by Peter Cry
In the small room, resembling the old cells of mental patients, there were no windows. For the child not to go completely out of her mind in the lock-up, the light was turned on when Howard got up, and turned off when he went to sleep.
At night, she was able to hear even through the thick concrete walls of the basement, through the discolored waded mattresses. Although it seemed impossible, she could hear a child’s cry, either in her head or from somewhere above from the master’s bedroom. She understood from the slight vibrations passing through the house what was happening, in which room and by whom it was being done, what door was opened, and where someone was heading. So, she knew for sure if someone was coming after her, and when her next few hours of hell were about to begin.
Lily had not been in the outside, normal world, free of forced sexual contact with adults, for so long that she had practically forgotten everything about it. It started to seem that that world had never existed. The only things there were, were the creepy house, tiny room, and Jason, the most terrible creature on earth.
Lately, everything had changed. The master, according to Howard, was away on business. Life had become a bit easier, without pain and beatings. Howard was reluctant to touch Jason's favorite toy. So, the girl's wounds healed, bruises cleared.
The remnants of her soul still resembled minced meat, but it was not as hard for her as before. Nevertheless, she knew the animal would be back, and then he would finish her off in some horrifying, perverted way. She waited in fear and everyday carefully listened to the noises within the house.
Lily lay on the floor, on her mattress, and stared at the light bulb hanging on a wire from the ceiling. Suddenly, there was a noise. Someone had opened the door to the basement and was hurrying down the stairs.
“He came for me... He’s back!" Lily was terrified.
In a few moments, realizing it was not her turn this time, she stood up in the center of her room and strained to listen.
Unexpectedly, she heard a sound like a car honking. A few moments later, she sensed a slight vibration above. Was someone knocking on the door?
“It’s definitely not Jason,” she thought.
It was enough to ignite a spark of hope in her teenage heart, in the remnants of her devastated soul.
Lily was panting. She scurried around searching for something, thinking of a way to attract attention, to let the guest who had scared Howard so much know that she and the children were there. But in her cell, there was nothing except the light bulb and the mattress.
The thirteen-year-old girl gathered all her strength and, overcoming the fear of death, went to the door.
“Help,” she squeezed out of her chest, stammering, and choking.
Lily's eyes were watering.
“Help,” she forced herself to repeat. Her small pale fists began to pound on the door.
“Help!” Lily screamed so loudly that her head started spinning. “We’re here!!! Help!”
***
Howard pushed the cellar door open and ran downstairs. Holding tape in his hands, he burst in on the children. Tearing off small pieces, he began to stick it over the mouths of the trembling kids who had no idea of what was happening. After finishing, he went and got a long rebar. He wielded it before the terrified children, chained to the wall.
“I won’t hear a single sound from you, bitches. If I do, I’ll pulverize you.”
Howard fell silent. It was clear that he was afraid and was waiting for something. A car drove up to the house and honked twice. Howard twitched and stared menacingly at the terrified children. Someone came to the front door and knocked. Noticing the fire of hope in the eyes of the kidnapped children, Howard gritted his teeth.
“Silence!”
Just a moment later, barely audible screams followed by the sound of thumping, reached the children’s ears from behind the strong metal door through which a strange pale girl used to appear.
***
Steve sat in the car and turned the jets of warm air so that they all blew at him. He enjoyed how his body thawed more and more, turning from an ice cube into something more placid, something that he used to feel. All he lacked to complete his happiness was hot coffee and, perhaps, something sweet.
Helen suddenly appeared from around the corner of the house.
“Well, finally,” Steve muttered with displeasure.
But his partner suddenly stopped several steps away from the car. She looked anxious and confused. Helen turned around and stared at the house.
“What is it now?” Steve started to boil over.
The police officer came to the door, opened it with an extremely serious look.
“Come with me.”
“What for? I am perfectly fine inside. I feel warm and comfortable.”
“I said, get the fuck out of the fucking car!” Helen ordered as if smashing Steve in the face.
Steve jumped out of the car without understanding how to respond. With rudeness, or resignation.
“Hey, watch your mouth.”
“Just listen.”
“What?”
“Quiet... Listen,” Helen whispered.
Steve wanted to tell his colleague to go fuck herself but, having controlled his anger, obediently began to listen. Suddenly, he realized what his partner was probably talking about.
“Seriously? The sound of the wind. Holy shit! Well, partner, I must admit you are Starsky and Hutch all rolled into one. Just more brutal – using bad language.”
“I'm pretty sure I heard a baby scream.”
Steve spread his hands.
“Are you completely out of your mind?”
Helen was only partially sure. She had heard something indistinct. Fragments. It was neither constant nor distinct.
“I could not make it out, but it seemed like the scream of a child... Listen, it’s screaming again...”
Helen’s colleague put his hands on his hips. His eyes, full of disrespect and maybe even contempt, silently measuring Helen from head to toe.
“A loony bin is waiting for you. It’s just the wind!”
After these words, Steve returned to the car, demonstratively slamming the door.
He reached for the key in the ignition lock.
Helen continued to scan noises coming from all around. She tried to distinguish the child's cry from the constant whistling generated by the wind. Suddenly, the engine started.
“Asshole,” Helen whispered under her breath.
Abandoning attempts to hear something, she gave up and got into the car.
“Get the fuck out of the fucking car? What the hell was that about?” Steve was indignant.
Helen began to turn the car around.
“I repeat, it seemed to me that I heard the scream of a child. At first, I asked you to get out of the car normally, but you’ve pretended not to understand me.”
“You behaved like a bitch, Helen. I'm going to request they give me another partner.”
Police officer Escamilla was not obsessed with pride. On the contrary, in her everyday life, in contrast to her working hours, she was rather accommodating and peaceful. Unfortunately, people like her always wanted to apologize first, even if they were right. This made them weak in the eyes of those who did not care. Those who did not understand that the reason for such behavior was not weakness. It was love for the one who could have been lost because of the conflict. Yes, that was the essence of what directed Helen in her everyday life, but not her work.
“Oh, for God's sake. Request whatever you want,” she said, holding back her negative emotions. “The next time your new partner calls you, try to assume it matters. And do not act like a dick, saying that you are very warm and comfortable sitting in a car. Otherwise, you’ll have to request to change your partner again.”
Turning her car around, Helen switched gears and drove away from the remote white wooden house.
Looking in the rearview mirror at the receding structure, she could not allay her doubts, even confusion. She was
intuitively trying to grasp something she still had not understood properly, so she was not yet able to formulate her suspicions and thoughts in a proper way. However, now she was going to do that, even if she had to break the law and get into the empty house without an order and without her partner.
***
Hearing the key in the door-lock turn, Lily abruptly stopped screaming and banging on the door. She huddled herself up in a corner, squatted down and, pressing her knees to her chest, feared for the worst
The door flew open and Howard, sweating with anger and fear, rushed inside. The fingers of his left hand gripped a steel bar. Standing over the petrified girl, he sighed.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, bitch? I can understand that you hope to get out of here sooner or later. But you’ll rot here… And if Jason doesn’t kill you, then I certainly will. I can promise you that.”
Howard threw the rebar behind him into the doorway. Experienced in such matters, he understood that with his strength he would simply break all the bones of this fragile girl. And he did not want to spoil Jason's favorite toy yet. You never know. He could return sooner, or later.
“You should be punished, lousy skunk,” Howard smirked. His breathing became intermittent. “I’ve longed for this.”
Slowly unbuttoning his fly, he threw off his old greasy jeans. Lily dug her nails into her head, grabbing the short hair that had time to grow in the absence of the owner of the house.
“No!” she cried. “Please, don’t do it. I don’t want to. I beg you, please, no!”
Howard heard his favorite tune, which meant it was time for him to dance.
Twenty-five feet away from the open door, on several mattresses sat the skinny children, kidnapped from the school bus. Chained in collars, they had understood what was happening to them long ago. Each of them, humiliated by same terrible fate, heard the muffled sounds of blows, the girl sobbing and begging for mercy. Starting to cry, they covered their ears with their hands, hoping that this hell would end soon, praying to God to set them free, preserving at least the remnants of what they had once considered their life.
Chapter 11
"The most interesting part starts now,” Detective Jackson smiled. “I don’t believe in anything out of this world or mystical, diviners or mentalists, but this one surely comes from the underworld.”
Standing in a dark room and looking through a special glass screen into the interrogation cell where a handcuffed man sat, the detective’s colleague watched with interest.
Alfred entered the room where suspects were usually interrogated. Locking the door behind him, he casually sized up the skinny man of forty to forty-five sitting with his back to him. He sat down at the table in front of the suspect and put a thin folder of papers before him.
This ascetic and exhausted man, who had been detained just a couple of hours ago, was in no hurry to raise his eyes, afraid to look at the policeman who, in his turn, opened the folder with documents and began to leaf through the files and photographs. He, on the contrary, did not stop gazing at the detainee.
“Where is my lawyer?” the suspect asked quietly. “I won’t say a word without my lawyer.”
Alfred smiled caustically.
“Your lawyer is on his way.” He took a deep breath and closed the folder. “But I think he’s not needed in our friendly conversation.”
“Friendly conversation?” the man muttered uncomfortably, timidly glancing at the policeman.
He pulled out his handcuffed hands from under the table and used his index finger to soothe a cut on his eyebrow on which blood had already dried.
“With such friends, I have no need of enemies”.
“Believe me, I am a very special friend.”
The detained man nodded, feigning comprehension.
“I am the last wall of understanding left between you and your hell.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Alfred paused, awaiting a response.
“Are you trying to scare me?” the interlocutor responded.
“By no means. In your situation, intimidation is optional. Any horror story I could tell you about what’s in store for you would be just a roadmap, a statement of facts, and not an attempt to intimidate you.”
“What do you mean?” the suspect hesitated.
Alfred moved closer to the table and put his hands on it. His eyes became cold, expressing a certain amount of cruelty.
“I shall tell you an entertaining story, so you will be able to figure it out right away.”
The detainee shrugged indifferently, signaling Alfred should proceed.
“Every day, coming home after work in the evening, turning on your dusty computer, located on a desk in the corner of your bedroom, you dive into a wonderful world of child pornography and masturbation. There, in that gloomy world, you have a nickname under which you visit certain thematic forums. There you have friends with whom you exchange pictures and videos.”
The man suspected of corrupting a minor boy, mesmerized by the speech of the mystical cop, followed every word. Everything that he had heard was the truth, the shameful truth that he had always wanted to conceal from others.
“Although you use programs that supposedly should hide your presence on the Deep Web, I know everything that you do there. And I am not the only one who knows.”
Alfred leaned back in his chair. “Once, on an incredible stressful day, somewhere in your dark soul the thought arose that jerking off on porn was not enough.”
The policeman smiled deceptively, observing as his interlocutor dropped his eyes and withdrew into himself.
“Especially when there is a little grown-up called Bobby living in your neighborhood. White teeth, tanned skin. At the age of nine, he has such attractive features! And how convenient that you have a wonderful relationship with his parents! You can always look after the boy when they are not home. And if it’s hot, treat him with lemonade, go to a nearby store together for sweets…”
Alfred noticed that the man was totally smitten by his words and his body had begun to sway.
“Nobody will ever suspect you, you told yourself that day. You are a wonderful neighbor. You have work, you don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you don’t use drugs, you live with your old mother.”
“Yes, my mother is a great woman,” the detainee muttered in response.
“And after reading the advice of your friends from a forum called Russian Angels, who have already tasted sweet fruit in the form of a little boy or girl, you decided to plunge headlong into all of these joys with your neighbor Bobby.” Alfred sighed. “You began to prepare how to devour the cherry on the cake. You checked out whether an innocent child would report on you. Treating his wounds, when he fell off his bike, you took pictures of him completely naked in the shower.”
“There were no pictures,” the handcuffed man said with undisguised agitation. “He's lying.”
Alfred smiled and pressed forward.
“God damn those fucking clouds! They have a copy of everything that you have ever done with your smartphone!”
“Bobby fell off his bike. His wounds were covered in mud. I had to clean them. I took those pictures for one single reason. I sent them to my friend. He’s a doctor and he advised me how to help the kid.”
The suspect had grown visibly nervous.
“You should have simply called an ambulance. I’m sure they would have dealt with it.”
“Bobby was crying, I did not have time for calls. I urgently needed to help him.”
“And that's why you’ve stripped him naked, gave him a sedative and took the child to the shower just to fix a couple of scratches on his knees and palms.”
The detainee shook his head angrily.
“Your speculation is a disgusting lie! I was just trying to help him!” He exploded and jumped up from the table, approaching a large mirror, taking up almost half of the wall. “Where’s my lawyer?” he cried out, looking at his reflection. “I’ve had enough of your games! I wan
t to talk to my lawyer!”
“Sit down,” Alfred said calmly.
“What?”
“I said sit the fuck down,” the policeman repeated, gazing at the suspect. “You don’t want me to punch you, do you?”
“You have no right! I’ll sue you!”
“I don't give a fuck about what you are going to do. But if you don’t sit the fuck down now, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
The detained man turned pale and began to shake. Alfred's dark eyes devoured him. It seemed that he was ready to pounce on the cowardly pedophile and tear him apart with his teeth.
The suspect slowly sat down, clanking with his handcuffs, and not taking his eyes off the policeman.
“Do you mind if I continue?” Alfred asked sarcastically. “After falling from a bicycle, poor little Bobby was very scared that his mother, who had told him not to leave the house while she was out, would find out. You figured that out and observing the victim every day as a boa constrictor, you realized that it was your perfect chance.”
Alfred fell silent for a short spell. He struggled with his inner malice and wild disgust. The policeman did not want to make things easier for the person opposite him, but to let him stew for a long time and then tear him into pieces.
“And you took advantage of it,” he continued. “Everything would go smoothly, you thought. You would certainly achieve your goal by developing your friendship with Bobby to a state of complete trust. You planned to use a little more sedative, or weak sleeping pills, and then rape the boy.”
“It was not like that,” the detainee whispered.
“As soon as Bobby was half-conscious, the whole process would be filmed by a camera fixed somewhere. Eventually, you wanted to share the rape with your secret society on the network. If I had not stopped you, you would not have limited yourself to Bobby, believe me.”
