Part 3
The envelope was still there.
A single tear rolled down Crimson's face.
She opened the envelope and inside was the last $1000 she had to her name.
Crimson Hill grew up in Mobile, Alabama, in an old mansion completed in 1833. The driveway was lined with live oaks. The house had giant white columns she used to run around as a young girl.
Her beloved father was a huge Alabama football fan, hence, how she got the name Crimson. Daddy was the apple of her eye. An engineer, he was revered by most and had a full schedule, but never let his beloved only child want for naught. It's safe to say Crimson was a daddy's girl. Her momma was a stay-at-home mother. Like most dutiful wives, she stood proudly by her husband.
Around the age of 16, Crimson realized something was wrong. The amount of alcohol coming into the house increased, while the amount of time her father spent working decreased. Debt collectors came calling. And one by one, things would go missing in order to fund daddy's drinking, momma's jewels, my jewels, family heirlooms, furniture. So when she was 18, she made a choice. To leave the life she knew and join V.I.L.E. But that wasn't right either.
But this money was the last of what she had. And she needed more. Fast.