Abuse: The Complete Trilogy (69 page)

“Hardship
often prepares an ordinary person for an extraordinary destiny.”

― C.S.
Lewis

~~~

Grant
Wilkinson

“I think it’s my
turn,” Zach says, after getting us all a second round of drinks.

He begins to
tell us a long story, which only has a few similarities to Danny's or my own
experience. Zach knew he'd been abused. Unlike us, he'd bravely reached out to
grownups and tried to get help.

When he
complained to his mother, she told him not to tell anyone. She was less worried
about her son's welfare, and more concerned about the possibility their family
might lose their social standing in their church. At the time, the minister
advised her to do nothing, telling her, “God takes care of all sin,” and, “It
is not for us to judge.”

He then told his
father, who gave him a beating and accused him of attention seeking and lying.

This treatment
didn’t dissuade Zach. It turns out, of all of his character traits, obstinacy appears
to be the strongest. His pigheadedness particularly flourished throughout his
teens when he began writing letters, complaining to one and all about his
abuse.

This action resulted
in him being kidnapped and assaulted at fourteen years old. During the
incident, he was injected with heroin and framed for having a drug problem. Nobody
believed his story of kidnap and assault.

After that, he
spent time in juvenile detention for a theft he says he never committed. Then
he began a long journey of smoking dope, getting high and escaping his pain. Other
than addiction issues, which I can readily believe, the account he tells sounds
very much like a figment of his imagination.

Danny and I
quietly listen to Zach weave his tale. Danny's eyes meet my own occasionally,
during the tougher parts to believe. However, something kept bothering me,
resonating in the back of my mind…

Zach claims to
have been set up and framed, seemingly by someone who wanted to discredit him
and keep him quiet. This catches my attention. I can't help thinking about how
I was set up and framed for Gates' murder.

Was it done to
silence me or simply to pin a murder on me? Was Gates murdered to silence him?
He knew too much. He'd seen all of the pictures. But who'd have done it? And
why now? My father's dead, so who would be hurt by him being exposed at this
point?

My focus returns
to the present. I resign myself to mulling everything over later.

A muscle in Zach’s
jaw twitches. “So y’all can understand why I’m kinda paranoid. They tell me I
have anger issues.”

“Is that right?”
I say, managing to keep an utterly straight face. I believe it. He looks
murderous right now.

Tense and pissed
off, Zach settles back in his chair. “As a kid, I was branded as a drug-fucked,
thievin’ troublemaker. I was molested, then ignored, then punished for tryin'
to be heard. Those bastards intentionally trashed my reputation so no one would
believe me. At one point, I even began to doubt myself, to think
I was
crazy. I started wonderin' if maybe I'd imagined some of what happened.”

“That’s
terrible,” Danny murmurs sympathetically, as he slowly shakes his head. “I
thought
I
had it bad.”

“You know what?”
Zach frowns, his eyes narrow and he sits forward as if confiding a secret.
“I’ve heard stories from women who cut themselves, or use hard drugs and sleep
with anyone and everyone. I’m talkin’ crazy ass girls. When I listened to them,
every single one told me sick details of childhood sexual abuse, incest and rape.”

I say nothing,
but I nod, encouraging him to continue.

He sprawls back in
his chair, takes a long swig of beer. “My friends and I used to see these
broken girls with their addictions, their unexplainable madness and hysteria
and they’d say,
‘Damn, Zach! Bitches be crazy!’”

He sits forward
suddenly, leaning toward us. “But, you know what? No matter how unbelievable
the story, I
always
believed them. I’m strong. I’m tough as fuck, but I
thought
I
was losing my mind. Women, they’re emotional. I don’t know if
they are the ‘weaker sex’ but they are
definitely
the kinder, softer sex.
That’s a good thing. Some men are selfish sons of bitches.”

I laugh—we all
do, because that certainly is true.

Zach frowns. “The
world would be shit without the kindness of women—except for my mother and
sister, the disbelieving cunts that they are.”

I agree
completely, but I say nothing. It’s one thing for him to criticize his family—but
it would be stupid
for me
to do so.

“Do you think
women sexually abuse children, or is it just men?” I ask.

“I’ve heard of
it,” Danny says. “Sometimes women do it
with
male partners, kind of as a
codependent thing, to please the pedophile guy. There are cases of women
abusing children, though not as many as men. Incest is bad enough, but if your
mother is the perpetrator it must be a real mind fuck. The kids involved would
be doubly silenced.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. Women are
supposed to be caregivers—no one believes they are capable of abuse, yet they
apparently are.”

Zach’s eyes
narrow. “I don’t know any female abusers, but there are plenty of male ones. I
think most women just aren’t as ugly ass mean as men. Cock sucking abusers their
use
their kindness against them. Women are too damn nice, so they blame
themselves. Or maybe because they aren’t physically strong enough to fight
back, they break and they keep falling into abuse. Whatever.”

He takes a deep
breath. “All I know is those sicko pedophile fuckheads know
exactly
how
to blame the victim.
They
drive us crazy! It’s hard to stay sane when predators
make us look bad on purpose. Then no one believes us because people don’t want
to hear it, they don’t
want
to believe, or they don’t want to get
involved. That’s how these sick SOB’s get away with their crimes.”

I stare at Zach,
knowing he’s right. Because of abuse, people’s lives fall apart, and because
their lives fall apart, they never make credible witnesses in a court of law.

Zach sure as
fuck is heavy-duty tough and stubborn, but I know men break, too. Danny is kind
and look what happened to him? I seemed tough, but inside I was broken. Until
André. Until Renata.

Thank you,
Lord, for both of them.

Zach still
refuses to see his parents or talk to his older sister. He’s never quit having
an ax to grind. His interest in computers began solely as a way to hack into an
enemies’ files.

What does he
mean by '
enemies'
? My father's only
one
man. Is he saying my
father kidnapped, beat and drugged him? Did my father frame and discredit him?
It seems far-fetched.

“Not one fucker
ever believed me,” he says with a sneer. “I never had a lick of proof, but I do
now.”

I shake my head,
trying to figure him out. Does he want to sue my family? What does he want to
do with this evidence now that my father’s dead?

“I don’t
understand,” I say. “Will the picture vindicate you to your parents? Maybe,
once they see proof of your abuse, they’ll realize how they screwed you over
and apologize?”

“I don’t give a
fuck about my parents, or my sister,” he says. “Fuck ‘em. They'd rather believe
lies than trust family. Those assholes don’t deserve me. No, I’m gonna get
even. I just need to work out the details. With these pictures, I finally can.”

“You’ve got more
than one picture?” Danny asks, surprise lighting his features.

Zach’s lips
curve into a slow smile that seems both charming and malicious. “I got two,” he
says, taking another long drink of beer from his bottle.

“But, I don’t
understand,” I say. “My father’s dead—he was murdered. How can these pictures
help you get revenge?”

“I never said
they were pictures of your father,” Zach says, his eyes alight with what he
knows is a
big
secret.

My jaw drops.
Not
my father? What the fuck? Who's in the pictures with him?

Zach’s brow
arches. “The photos I’ve got are of men who went to our church. One’s Senator Whitfield,
the other one’s a local district magistrate, Judge Gary Hooper.”

Senator
Whitfield?! Judge Hooper?
Wait, wasn’t he the judge who approved the search
warrants on my home and business? Didn't he also issue the subpoena for my
therapy records?

Jesus H.
Christ! It’s all connected!

I’m floored by
this information. I'd been struggling to come to terms with the fact I wasn't
the only kid my father molested. But now I find my father was not the only
abuser who preyed on kids around here.

Have we
touched on an active pedophile ring?
Not people unknown to the community at
large, or creepy strangers. A group of powerful, admired, ‘upstanding’ citizens?

Whoa!
The
implications of this are huge.

My father kept
pictures of other kids who were molested, but also of
other predators?
Why?
I shake my head and know why. Father knew how to cover his bases. There would
have been blackmail material on that hard drive. Stuff he could use if he
needed to.

A shrewd
businessman, my father focused on living the high life and spending tons of
money. Maybe he was paid for his photos, or worse…paid to procure?

Fuck.

If I know my
father, money was an important angle. Molesters pay huge amounts for graphic
photos. What would they pay to procure?

It appears we’ve
stumbled onto a pedophile ring that panders to the rich and powerful. I've
heard of things like this existing, but I never imagined how such a group would
work. The men in Zach’s pictures are reputable people with influential connections.

I suddenly find
myself believing
all
of Zach’s stories. There's nothing scarier than a
group of wealthy, powerful predators, actively—
in this moment—
abusing
children.

No wonder Edgar
Gates had to die. These are
exactly
the kind of people who would kidnap,
drug, frame and
kill
to protect their secrets. They
must
conceal
their way of life.

My mind spins as
I imagine the possible links. This changes
everything.
I never thought anything
like this could happen in the real world. I thought this kind of thing was
found only in fiction—in books, TV and movies.

“What?” Zach asks,
amused and pleased by my reaction.

My eyes narrow.
“You have a plan to get these guys?”

Zach nods. “Y’all
gonna think I’m crazy as a June bug, but I swear to God, this is what I’ve been
waitin’ for since I was a kid. This is my life’s work right here. My job is to
fuck these guys up. To fuck them
all
up.” His hands fist with anger. “If
I can do that…”

Zach shuts his
eyes for a moment, savoring the concept. He takes in a long, deep breath. “If I
can do that, all my sufferin' will amount to somethin'. I have to succeed.
Otherwise, it was all for nothin'.”

I smile. “I want
to help.”

“Me, too,” Danny
says, and we all grin stupidly at each other.

“Listen, this is
serious shit we're dealing with here. We have to be careful as hell,” I
caution. “I’m talkin’ about being downright paranoid.” I arch a brow. “Kind of
like the welcome you gave us when we first got here.”

Zach snorts, his
grin is one of smug pleasure.

I tell them
about Judge Hooper's hand in my warrants, the missing evidence from my father’s
computer—thousands of images of child pornography. I explain about Edgar Gates'
involvement, his murder and how I was framed for it. I explain why the charges didn't
stick.

“That’s
exactly
the kinda thing these sly sons of bitches do.” Zach scowls.

A frown mars
Danny’s handsome features. “God, if they find out what we’re up to, there’ll be
hell to pay.”

I nod. “Exactly.
That’s why we have to be careful. We need to watch our own
and
each
other's backs. We’ll need to contact everyone on our list, find every photo,
and get as many people involved as possible. There's safety in numbers. We have
no idea how many are against us. I want to make sure nobody gets hurt, or worse,
dies. But I do want justice. Maybe we can sue the bastards with a class-action
suit.”

“Fuck that,” Zach
snarls. “I don’t want their money.”

I study him
curiously. “What
do
you want?”

His brows draw
down in concentration. “I want them to lose everything. I want them discredited
and their reputations destroyed, like mine was.”

Zach is a huge,
scary guy. Right now he looks like a bomb about to go off. He stands up and
begins to pace.

“I need them to
go to jail,” he growls. “They have to lose their wives, their kids and their
standin' in society. What goes 'round comes 'round. I want to help Lady Karma
bite these assholes' balls off.”

Raising his
hands, Zach gestures with urgent, desperate passion. No preacher could give a
sermon with this much banked passion. His low voice becomes higher… louder. “I
want them to lose their positions of power.” He stomps back and forth, enraged.
“I want them vilified by the media.”

He stops pacing.
“After that, when all hope is gone, when they’re crushed completely…” His eyes
lock onto mine, just like the double barrels of his gun. His last shot is directed
to me, “I want them to kill themselves.”

Danny and I say
nothing.

Alrighty
then. Pretty damn comprehensive.

My pulse pounds
with a surge of excitement. I clear my throat. “I find myself in complete
agreement with your mission, exactly as stated.”