Scott parked the car in the shadows of a massive willow tree and stared at the weathered building before him. He could see the busted doors, see the windows that had been smashed, the blood that scored the walls, and felt more than a little uneasy. Whoever, or whatever, had caused Logan to snap could still be in the area.
Exhaling, he got out of the car and walked up the steps. Taking care not to step on the toys, on the signs of life he moved through the splintered doorway and into the foyer. A blood stained couch, two chairs, a coffee table, and a thick leather bound book were all that occupied the space.
Scott walked through the broken glass, the shards crunching beneath his feet as he moved slowly through the tangled mess. Bending he picked up the book and flipped it open. The first page seemed ordinary, a picture of a couple with several children. Each wore an easy smile, a look of familial peace; it appeared to be nothing more than a posed family portrait.
Flipping the page he stared at the painted little girl. Her blue eyes stared back at the camera, her lips were twisted in a smile, but it was the heavy makeup that covered her pale skin that sickened him. Instead of wearing some cute little dress that any other child would be wearing, she was dressed in lace, and garters, her hands folded demurely in her lap. With a sickening twist in his guts, Scott realized what the album was. Throwing it down as though it would bite him he swallowed the harsh taste of bile rising within his throat.
A heavy silence filled the house as he moved down the hallway, past doors painted in a multitude of colors. With a hand that trembled he opened the first door and stepped into the room. Decorated for a little boy, there were games, cars, trucks, balls tossed about recklessly. Sitting in the middle of the room however, was a massive king sized bed.
Diving past the partially opened door, Scott leaned over the toilet and wretched painfully, losing the contents of his stomach. Wiping his face, he leaned on the wall for a moment before trudging through the rest of the house.
An hour later, Scott sat on the damp grass, every muscle in his body trembling like crazy. Grasped in his hands was all the evidence of what Logan had stopped. He held the boxes of condoms, customer lists, the acts that were required, and several DVD’s with crude writing on them; things that no one in their right mind would every associate with a child.
“They’re gone. Rescued from men like you? Men that use children, babies for their own sick…”
“I’m not one of them.” Scott croaked.
“No? Let me guess it sickens you to know about it.”
Silky, tender the voice had him whipping around to stare at a tall, boyish looking young woman with short cropped black hair.
“What?”
“What they were doing here? The price that those kids were paying to exist without really being alive.”
“Who the hell are you?” Scott rose shakily to his feet, anger and revulsion warring within his body.
The girl smiled softly, “Nobody that you need to be concerned about. So who are you, if you’re not one of the johns?”
“Doesn’t matter who I am.” Scott replied sadly. “I knew someone who stopped this. Who was here the night that the blood was spilt.”
“Oh? Who? Angel or one of her Enforcers?”
Scott stared at the girl as she walked over to him and took the photo album from his cold hands. She stared at the pages carefully, a pain in her eyes he didn’t understand. “What’s it to you?”
“Forgive me. My name’s Bethany. And I’m or rather was one of these children.” She whispered painfully. “My mother trusted him, allowed him into our lives, into her heart, her home, her bed. It wasn’t enough, when she was killed in a car accident I learned what hell really was. I left the first chance I got, snuck into one of the dates’ car. By the time he realized I was there, we were parked in his driveway.” She laughed a cold, humorless sound. “His wife wasn’t too happy about it.”
“Surely she didn’t think…”
“Kinda hard not to know what was what. I as half naked painted up like some two-bit whore, with semen running down my legs.” Bethany replied and stared at him. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Scott watched in silence as she took the book, tucked it into a bag he hadn’t noticed and turned to vanish back into the shadows. “Wait! Help me understand.” Scott pleaded quickly. “I don’t know how to…”
“Come on.” Reaching out, Bethany took his hand and led him over to her car. With him in the passenger seat, she started the engine, turning the heater on full blast and headed for the small, well kept house she occupied.
Ushering him inside, Scott gratefully accepted the offer of a drink and settled on her couch. Sitting there nursing the drink she poured, he watched her move around the room, depositing the book, the box of items he’d taken in a large bin without saying a word. It was only when she poured him another tall glass of whiskey that he seemed to come out of his stupor.
“So, Doesn’t Matter, why were you searching that house? It’s going to be destroyed.”
“To find answers, to know the man I thought I knew, but have no clue about.” Scott whispered taking a long swallow of the harsh liquor and relishing the burn. He finished the drink and held his glass up, “Another?”
“Sure.”
Two hours later Scott sat on the floor, staring at the woman in front of him with a look of askance. The chill of his discovery hadn’t left him, the knowledge that he’d judged a good man too harshly ate at him, and all he wanted was to forget, to have a moment of reprieve.
The soft smile on Bethany’s face as he reached for her, only made his heart hurt more. Whispering an apology he kissed her softly, tasting the booze on her lips as much as his own. Groaning at the easy surrender of the woman in his arms, the alcoholic haze blocked his inhibitions and Scott allowed himself to fall.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Scott discovers just how wrong he's been, and it shakes him to the bone. :)