Matilda Wren Read Online Free

have such an epiphany but it was a realisation all the same.
    Death was something that one needed to prepare for and he was not prepared; not at all. He didn’t know what was on the other side. Was there a heaven? Or would he be going to the other place.
    Would his soul burn forever, in a nothingness void that spun around the earth? He slowly closed his eyes to pray to any higher being to end this for him. Just make him survive this, please.
    As his eyes closed to embrace the darkness he saw the glint of the shiny iron crowbar just before Sean embedded it into his skull.
    Sean hadn’t killed him, but he had made sure the man would be in hospital for the next six months and that he would never forget who Sean Fergus was. This was what had pissed him off more. The stupid ponce had never even heard of him; had absolutely no idea who he was or what he owned.
    This galled Sean. He had worked hard over the last three years, to get where he was. He was not about to let some no mark disrespect him like that. He was young. At twenty- one, he had achieved what some men spend their whole lives trying to accomplish.
    It wasn’t an easy job managing girls. You had to be on their backs constantly and have your eyes and ears open.
    He had enjoyed giving out the beating. It was like having a workout for him. He really did enjoy the violence of his job, almost as much as finding new blood, to add to the vast network of girls he had.
    That part he really did like. He went for the runaways and homeless mainly, they were easy to break. He would befriend them; give them a place to stay, food and money.
    Then he would introduce the drugs, if they weren’t already on something. Usually it was crack or heroin.
    After a few hits they were hooked and willing to do anything he wanted. He was always fascinated by how easy it was. They never resisted. He was too good at it.
    A pimp needs charm and Sean had it abundance. It seeped out of him. He had a special knack of tuning into people’s insecurities. It was almost as if he could read their inner most thoughts. He could do it with men too. A whore once told him he could charm the pants off the straightest bloke. It was why he had got to where he had.
    It was why the faces trusted him and it was what the girl’s fell for. It was such a waste of life. These women had almost no self respect or dignity. If there was any, Sean stripped it away quite quickly.
    He was pissed that he had to put his plans for the evening on hold to sort out a whore’s punter. He had a lovely new tart ready to be groomed. She was just ripe and he was about to do the picking.
    He was also pissed that his name obviously wasn’t as known as it should be, otherwise he wouldn’t have had to sort out the punter. He was running late and now he had to stop off at home in Brentwood first for a shower; the punter had bled all over him as he had helped to put him in the car, so his henchmen could drop him off at the hospital.
    And he would be dropped off, literally out of the car door and left on the pavement outside Queen’s Hospital Accident and Emergency department, in Romford.
    It was hard enough for Sean to make sure all his girls toed the line, without having to ensure the punters played by the rules too. The fact that he had some major trust issues with just about everybody he came across meant it virtually impossible for him to find hired help. He had a few heavies that would help him out from time to time but no permanent crew.
    It was one of the reasons why he appealed to the faces of Essex; the solitary way he chose to live. If one man could cause such destruction, then that one man was worth having on your side. That was just common sense and for a face to be a face; common sense and nous was what would keep you alive and your status and reputation intact.
    Sean wasn’t that interested in being a face. He enjoyed the notoriety it bought and the money, but the power over turf control held no concern for him. He enjoyed