“Oh no.”
“Yeah. Her dad’s nephew needed a place to live and he was staying in their guest room. He’s young too, just nineteen, but we figured out he’s been sneaking into her bedroom a few nights a week.”
“Fuck, dude.”
“She’s seven years old.” I swallow the lump of rage building in my throat. “Fortunately, he didn’t have enough time to escalate before she started acting out. Poor child was living in fear, but wasn’t able to even understand it was him.”
“God. What happened?”
“He crumpled as soon as he was confronted. He’s been removed from the house and he’s in mandatory counseling in an in-patient program run by the state. Come to find out, the reason he needed a place to stay is that his mom put him out for suspecting him of messing with her daughter—his half-sister. She neglected to tell her brother that.”
“That’s so fucked up.”
“It is. The problem is, it’s not rare. It’s not the reason every child is in therapy, but it’s the reason a lot of them are.”
“I understand. I had to report a family once for suspected abuse. Their son had bruises and abrasions in places he shouldn’t have.”
“It sucks. It makes you want to do something to protect them, you know? The justice system doesn’t always do what it should.”
“I know, but you are helping them. You’re a safe place.”
“I try. Anyway, pretty heavy dinner conversation.”
“I can handle it, Van. I’ve had my hands buried in someone’s chest cavity before.”
“Fair enough.”
“So your work texted. Do they need you back?”
“No. He was just telling me about something that happened. A convicted child predator was found murdered last night.”
“Oh, damn.”
“Apparently he had an appointment with my office—not me, one of my coworkers—but he never showed. The police came to see if we had any information.”
“You counsel the victim and the perpetrator?”
“Not me, no. We have a different division for adult clients. We get a lot of patients like that. They come to therapy because it’s part of their parole conditions. Or it’s to prevent a longer sentence or for public optics. Very few of them are there to fix what’s broken.”
“Sick.”
“I could never treat a person who did something like that. I’d punch their face in first.”
“Same.”
“My opinion? You can’t rehabilitate a sex offender. It’s in their blood, and when it’s children they target, it’s…” I shake my head. “It’s impossible. I have yet to see it. Eventually, they relapse. Even the strongest person can only defy their nature for so long.”
“So what’s the solution, then?”
“There are a lot of theories. Some think chemical castration would do it. Others think they have to be permanently separated from society.”
“What do you think?”
As I gaze into Nantes’s eyes, a thousand youthful memories flood back. I trusted him with everything once, but not this. Never this.
“I think they should be permanently removed from the planet. Euthanized.”
“Death penalty.”
