James. Leaving the Park, Paul entered the car, and I saw the girl we rescued from her pimp open the back door to get in. "What the fuck, Paul," I linked my brother, and he started laughing. "Relax, James. Besides, it will be wrong to leave her out here alone. We just drove away her pimp." He linked me back, and I was mad. Why did he always have to make decisions for both of us? He didn't even bother to ask me how I would feel about it. "She is a prostitute, Paul. They are troublesome most of the time." I linked him, drawing his attention to the problem. I believe her innocent face had fooled him, but I was on guard. "She is my problem and not yours," he linked me, and I sighed. "Where do you want to put her, Paul? In our wing?" I asked him, and he was silent, which meant that was precisely what he wanted to do. "Come on, she isn't our problem," I told him, and he shook his head. "Remember grandma Stacy's story?" He asked me, and I couldn't believe he wanted to spring that shit
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