“Oh God.”
Hundreds upon hundreds of lines are carved into the four wooden walls. A child’s hiding hole decorated with a tally, an endless count that stops just as abruptly as it begins.
And that’s where the true horror lies.
Bile rises up in my throat as I take in the pictures decorating the ground. Pictures of a little blonde girl tied to the bed invarious positions, blood leaking between her legs and tears spilling down her cheeks.
Why won’t anybody come save me?
Words written in permanent marker that rips a hole right through my fucking heart.
Picking up a photograph, I can see the edge of a knife in the corner of the frame, the faint smear of orange hair barely caught in the shot.
What a shame you can’tseeyourself right now. Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?
Quotes, dialogue stolen from another time is scribbled along the back, the mocking underline of the sixth word drawing my attention to the photograph clipped to the back.
The shot of man with both his eyes gouged out.
I pick up another one, finding the same theme throughout. Words dissected and categorized to ensure each man reaps his punishment.
A punishment which was served in tenfold.
“What have you done.”
I don’t know who I’m talking to, the men or the little girl who tortured and sought to reclaim the pride that was taken away.
There’s seven of them in total, seven molesters who met an untimely end. Sorrow and rage curdles my stomach as I rifle through them all, witnessing the scars thicken and grow until they embody the woman she would one day become.
Callused. Calculated.
And so fucking strong.
The bed that was at my back ten minutes ago illuminates through the photos, transitioning from a victim to a predator as the men are tied down and torn apart in animalistic ways. Brutal and merciless, I can’t bring myself to feel pity for the men who scarred my fucking girl.
And now I can’t find her.
Grabbing one of the collars from the wall beside me, I steal the gold pendent hanging from its sparkly width. Cold hardwood brushes the bottom of my feet as I return to the bedroom, dark eyes following my every move.
“I need your help.”
An erratic heartbeat thunders through my ears, my palms clammy with the horrendous thoughts racing through my mind. Images painted red, memories gushing blood until I can taste them on the tip of my tongue.
Ronan’s ears flick towards me, his eyes narrowing with every step I take.
“Calista…Your mum needs our help.”
He starts to growl when I get close enough to touch him. Anger that masks the fear, the vicious look in his eyes is identical to the girl I found in the closet.
Reaching out, I gently brush the fur back from his ears. Soft and slow, just how Calista showed me.
“We’re all she’s got, mate.”
For two heart-stopping seconds, he tenses. Stares at me with eyes so wide I can’t help but feel a kinship with this mutt.
I press my hand against his fur, feeling the bumpy ridge of his skull. The scars that brand his skin just like they do Calista.
Just like they do me.
