He Killed Our Twins, So I Paid Someone to Kill Them

The girl Vince Fraley was sponsoring got pregnant. He brought her home and told me to take care of her during her pregnancy.

“Darlene has delicate skin. Her underwear needs to be hand-washed.”

“She gets nauseous easily, so switch all the condoms to strawberry-flavored ones.”

“She hates dog hair. Get rid of your damn pet.”

No matter how unreasonable his demands were, I did them all without complaint. Even when the girl was in a bad mood and used a whip on me to vent her frustration, carving long, bloody welts into my back, I never said a word.