Arsen’s stomach churned. How often had his father said something like that? Every time Arsen got a beating? Every time his mother did? Every day. “You didn’t discipline them. You tortured them. Broken bones. Bruises. Burns. Ligature marks. So, now, you have to die.”
“Get on with it then,” she said, waving a hand.
He didn’t know what he’d expected but it certainly wasn’t that. Such a cavalier attitude towards her own death. Perhaps she was a psychopath. He knew plenty of them. Or maybe she was just a narcissist who refused to die crying.
“I will not beg to be spared, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”
Arsen stiffened. That was what his mom had said.“I won’t beg.”She’d looked so defiant then. So strong. But this woman and his mother were nothing alike.
Before he could spiral down into the darkness of his thoughts, he heard a thud from behind the door to his right.
Was there someone else there? Another child? A boyfriend?
“Who’s in there?” Arsen snapped, digging the muzzle of the gun against her forehead until she hissed in pain.
“In where?” she asked, clearly enjoying playing stupid.
Arsen listened intently for another moment, never taking his eyes off the woman before him. But there was no follow-up sound. He glanced towards the door once more, able to make out a lock at the top even in the shadows.
A sick feeling slid through him. Did she have another little girl? Had they given her another child to foster? This was why Jericho had slated her to die. The system was too broken. They simply couldn’t handle the amount of kids, so they just gave them to people often far worse than those they were taken from in the first place.
Arsen had gotten a taste of the foster system first hand. It wasn’t for him. Truthfully, it wasn’t fit for any child. Luckily, he’d been able to escape to Jericho’s when things got too bad. “Who’s in there?”
She sneered at him. “Go see for yourself. Careful, though. He bites.”
He? An animal? A dog maybe? Who locked their dog in a closet? The same kind of woman who abused toddlers. He grabbed a pillow from the bed and forced it over her face, then pulled the trigger, using the pillow as a suppressor to muffle the sound.
That was when he heard it. A mewling sound and scratching on the closet door. She really had locked up an animal. Fuck. Arsen couldn’t leave a fucking dog in there. It would starve before anybody even came looking for this woman. And there was no guarantee whoever found the woman would even check on an animal.
“Careful, though. He bites.”
Arsen really didn’t want to get bitten. But if he let a dog die, Noah would never forgive him. Hell, he’d never forgive himself. Animals and children were innocent. Sacred. They deserved to be protected.
As he got closer to the door, the noise stopped. Arsen’s heart hammered against his ribs.Chyort. The lock was small, like something you’d find on a shed or storage unit. If he could have turned on the light, he would have tried to pick it, but he wasn’t risking alerting anyone to his presence.
He took a deep breath and let it out, then stepped back, slamming his booted foot into the door once, then twice. It gave on the third kick, splintering the wood holding the lock in place and sending the door flying inward.
The smell hit him like a sledgehammer, sending him reeling backward, a combination of sweat and stale air. It was…sour. He expected a dog to come running from the room, but there was nothing. Uneasiness dripped along his spine like ice water. He slid his phone from his pocket and turned on the flashlight, aiming it towards the still darkness of the closet. His eyes landed on a dirty mattress, if he could even call it that. It looked like a crib mattress or a bed for a child.
If there was a little kid in there, this job was about to get a lot more complicated. He took two steps in, shining the light around. There was a bucket in the corner and a stack of books. On the wall was a round circle, like one of those battery-operated lights people put in their kitchens and bathrooms. But nothing else.
“Hello?” he said. “You can come out. I won’t hurt you.”
There was a faint scraping sound like someone shifting behind the door, like they’d hidden in the small space there. It was the perfect size for a child.
“Hello?” he said again, keeping his voice soft, hoping he sounded friendly enough to coax them out of hiding.
He really didn’t want to have to drag them out. It would only traumatize them further. But in situations like this, time was important. While nobody would turn him in, he couldn’t refute standing in a room with a dead body, gun in hand.
The door moved and a figure stepped into the light, shielding their face from his phone. Arsen dropped it slightly so it was no longer in their eyes. He squinted. It wasn’t a child. Well, not a toddler anyway.
It was a boy. His short dark hair obscured his eyes, but Arsen could make out a heart-shaped face, chubby cheeks, and full lips. The boy huddled in on himself, eerily quiet, muscles tensed like he was prepared to fight if necessary.
Arsen didn’t want to fight him. He was small, at least a good head shorter than Arsen’s six feet. He wore a dirty white t-shirt covered in dark stains and a pair of dark-colored sweatpants. He was swimming in the fabric.
He was just so small.
“Hi,” Arsen said again, having no idea what to say. “What’s your name?”
