Who is Dante Childs?
He walks a path through spiky thorns tipped with innocent blood, thickets of twisted soul killers and bottomless pools of babies' tears. Where pimps lie in wait for runaways to rent them out at five dollars a night, to where inhuman torture cannot be diluted with words like dysfunction and pedophile, where clinical phraseology cannot disguise the brutal truth. Where the pack animals known as citizens gather for their daily harvest, while on a rotting mattress in a dank, stinking cesspit apartment in the bowels of the concrete jungle, a ten-month old baby lies screaming, her roars of pain the result of repeated, systematic rape and sodomy. In this city a pit bull bites two people, they gas it.
A father cripples his own kid, they give him another bite. If a man rapes his daughter, those in power say he's sick; if he rapes his neighbor's daughter, they say he's a criminal and should go to prison.