Abuse: The Complete Trilogy (76 page)

“We are
asking people to understand that slavery still exists today; in fact, according
to a recent New York Times article, if you count the number of women and
children in bonded labor, domestic slavery or sexual slavery today, there are
more slaves in the world than at any other time in history.”

— Charlotte
Bunch

~~~

Gabriela
Lopez

Meanwhile,
in a mansion in Georgetown, Washington D.C.

Nine-year old
Sammy lay naked on his side. Propped up on one elbow, he regarded his friend
with a cheeky smile and big blue eyes. His friend, eleven-year old Susie, grinned
back at him. She was also propped on one elbow and naked, too.

The wrinkled old
guy had fallen fast asleep between them.

Now they could
have time to themselves.

The man liked to
be called ‘daddy.’ Daddy had a flabby, round chest and belly, pole thin legs,
and white, wispy hair.

When Susie and
Sammy had first seen daddy without his clothes on, they both tried
very
hard not to laugh. He looked so funny! His skin was limp and there was lots of
it, kind of like an elephant that had too much skin.

Daddy grunted
and rolled onto his side, toward Susie. He immediately began to snuffle, then
wheeze, then snore really loud.

Wide-eyed, the
children both gasped with surprise and delight.

Sammy snickered,
also very loud.
Too loud.

Oh, no,
Susie thought. Eyes shining, she put her finger to her lips in a
‘Shh,
quiet!’
gesture.

Her friend
grinned at her, clearly trying
really
hard not to laugh. A bubble of giddy
excitement tore through Susie. Now
she
fought not to giggle
hysterically.

Susie knew
everything they did was being recorded and watched on video. If she and Sammy
upset their paying customer, they’d get into bad trouble.

Suddenly, daddy made
a particularly strident sound, a cross between a burp and a snort. It was too
much! Quickly slapping their hands over their mouths to muffle any noise, both
children frantically tried not to burst out laughing. If daddy farted now,
they’d both be toast!

She widened her
eyes with a desperate, meaningful look at Sammy.

He nodded.

Quietly, oh-so
quietly, they both slipped out of bed, careful not to jar the mattress of the
big bed.

As part of
daddy’s
special game
, they’d been dressed in school uniforms. Now their
clothes lay heaped on the floor at the end of the bed, but neither child
bothered to put their outfits back on.

Susie wore
clothes only when she
wasn’t
working, but she was used to it. Being
stark-naked didn’t bother her anymore, unless it was cold. But in the various
playrooms of the
Big House
, it was never cold.

Adults may find
it difficult to understand, but kids are resilient and adaptable. They block
out the negative. Naturally cheerful, children find joy in even the littlest
things. For children in the
Big House
, sexual abuse was simply a part of
their everyday life.

Pure.

Innocent.

Trusting.

Easily manipulated.

It would be
years later,
as teenagers and adults,
when they would pay the price for
their childhood. Then they would blame themselves, suffering from self-loathing,
disgust, shame, guilt, trust issues and hours of therapy—
if
they were lucky.

If they were
brave enough to seek help.

Living in the
moment—as children do, they didn’t give it a thought. This was their life, and
they were accustomed to it. To their eyes the
Big House
wasn’t dismal,
disgusting, or difficult. It simply was what it was. There were rules, tasks
and homework to do before they could play.

Above all, they
were
children.

Thus, if a
client fell asleep in a playroom—like today—the children became giggly as a
matter of course. They simply couldn’t help it. How could they be expected to remain
good and quiet and obedient when daddy had fallen asleep?

In the
Big
House,
there was very much a ‘them’ vs. ‘us’ mentality. It wasn’t that the grownups
were mean, bossy, or scary, although many times they were. The children simply had
an unspoken code, a quiet undercurrent to silently band together against
them.

This was a
natural progression, the pull within every child to resist adult constraints.
Or perhaps it was more that the kids recognized their attraction to one
another, toward their own lively ‘tribe.’

Like all children,
Sammy and Susie were apt to break loose into mad, over-spirited horseplay,
given the opportunity. Get a few kids together without adult supervision and they
gloriously ignite, kind of like spontaneous combustion.

Whoosh!

Kids become
irrepressible. Playful. Untroubled.

Hilariously
diverted by nothing at all.

In those few
moments when their wild, young spirits were not strictly contained, the
children naturally broke free.

Susie grabbed
the tiny bag of candy that rested on the bedside table. Candy was what they received
as a reward for doing a good job. When daddy visited it was also part of their
play. He liked to pretend to ‘trick them’ into giving him cuddles with candy.

Daddy was really
nice because he knew Susie and Sammy, so he always brought the candies they
liked best.

Old guys were
easy.

They mainly
wanted hugs. That was OK. Who wouldn’t want a hug?

Special treats
in hand, grinning as if they were both off to a day at the beach, the children quietly
hop-skipped into the bathroom that was attached to the huge bedroom.

There they could
talk and giggle without waking daddy up.

“Hey, how are
you?” Susie whispered excitedly, bouncing with happiness and popping a gummy
snake into her mouth. “I missed you!” She opened the bag and offered her friend
his choice.

“I’m much
better,” Sammy said, selecting a gummy bear. “I was sick.”

“I heard! You
were so lucky to get chicken pox. I want to get them too! You were on vacation
for so long. I haven’t seen you at work for
ages.
”

A serious
expression closed up Sammy’s face. “It wasn’t any fun, even though I got to
watch TV all day. I was stuck in bed and felt awful—sick and itchy. You
wouldn’t like it.”

To confirm this
important information, he pointed out a few little scabs on his arms and chest.
They were still red and a bit sore.

Susie frowned
and made sympathetic murmurs as he showed her his marks. She sighed. “But I’d still
like to go on a vacation. If I went on a
real
vacation then I’d go to
Disney World.”

“Oh, me too!”
Sammy reached into the bag for a second candy. “I want to see Tigger,
Cinderella’s Castle and Mickey Mouse. I can’t wait. When we’re older, we’ll go
together. The House Master told me I could go if I’m good. I’m being
really,
really
good so I can go.”

“¡Él es el
padre de la mentira!”
Susie said, fierce and low.

“What?”

“He is the
father of all lies,” she translated.

At Sammy’s
crestfallen features, Susie immediately retracted her statement. Her friend was
still very young and she didn’t want to upset him.

He was too young
to understand.

“I was just joking,”
she explained with a teasing grin on her face. “Yes, you and I will go together
to Disney World. There, we’ll eat ice cream and hot dogs and go on all the
rides!”

Unable to remain
still, they bounced up and down with excitement. Sammy laughed so loud Susie
had to shush him.

In the
Big
House
, a single utterance of the magical words ‘Disney World’ never failed
to brighten the expression on every child’s face. Disney toys were sought after.
Often clients brought them in as special gifts for their favorites.

Countless
clients wanted the children to play ‘dress-ups.’ There were so many different
costumes, but Susie loved wearing princess gowns most. It was a highlight to
her workday or work night.

Dress ups made
it easy to make-believe. Susie would often pretend she was a princess being found
and taken home by the people she loved. Seeing her parents again was a dream
she often imagined. She missed them. If only…

The children in
the
Big House
were cared for by supervisors. Supervisors could be men or
women. They weren’t
old
, they were maybe twenty.

House Masters
were
old.

House Masters often
promised the children they would go to Disney World if they were good. Susie
knew this was a lie. No one she knew had
ever
been there.

Susie’s real
name was Gabriela Lopez. When she first came to the
Big House,
she’d
been told to forget that name, because it was not her name—but Susie knew
better. The men who stole her away also told Susie her parents had no money so
they sold her.

Susie knew this
also was a lie.
Mamá
and
papá
would
never
sell her, no
matter how poor they were. They loved her very much. They would come for her
very soon.

“I told you daddy
just wanted to watch,” Sammy said importantly.

They both
giggled like loons over that fascinating piece of information. Sometimes a
customer asked to see kids play with each other. That’s what Sammy and Susie
had done tonight.

It had been
easy, fun work for both of them.

The two
children—each armed with carnal knowledge they should never have been exposed
to—sat naked on the rim of the huge bathtub, side by side. Together, they
enjoyed their candy, each other’s company, and the irrepressible and
inexplicable happiness only children can know.

So far, it had
been a really good day.

“Those who do
not move, do not notice their chains.”

― Rosa
Luxemburg

~~~

Grant
Wilkinson

I was expecting André's
visit, however I’m surprised when he turns up on our doorstep with a stranger.
André introduces the man simply as, “Albert.”

I greet him with
a smile. “Hello, Albert.”

Albert flashes a
smile back at me in acknowledgment, appears blind to my facial scars and says
nothing. Perhaps four-five years old, he’s a tall, African American with a
perfect set of straight, white teeth. Thickset and sweating heavily, he has alert,
watchful eyes and a shaved, bullet-head.

Albert silently
proceeds to bring equipment in to scan my entire house, looking for listening
devices.

Are there
bugs in my house? Have we been under surveillance? Fuck.

My mind
feverishly searches back in time, trying to remember everything I’ve said to
Renata, and she to me. So many of our conversations revolve around crimes, ranging
from my father's murder and victims, to pedophilia, to my brother's murder
charges and the details of my abuse.

Lord, I sit on a
ton of secrets.

I’m greatly relieved
when Albert confidently says, “All clean here, no wires, no devices.”

As the rest of
our guests arrive, Albert scans each of them at the door.

Maria has the
day off and Renata’s made a ton of finger food, which she’s placed in the
middle of the table. At over ninety degrees outdoors, with high humidity, it’s
a relief to get inside into the air-conditioning.

All in all, we
found eight people who were sent photos of themselves being sexually abused as
children. I have to wonder how many others there are.

Four of us were
molested by my father: Cody Bentley, Danny Berdeaux, Miguel Alvarez, and
myself. Those abused by others are Katrina Hanlon, Zachary Bailey, Carol
Minster and Mike Boyle.

It’s a shocking
truth, but we’ve stumbled onto a pedophile ring. It appears that someone from
there ordered the assassination of Edgar Gates and then framed me for the
murder. Did they also murder my father?

Our gathering
today is to discuss and decide where to go from here. Of course we want
justice, but how? We all sit at a large table which I’ve moved into the
upstairs living area for this occasion.

Sally Ann is
here to support her brother Danny. She’s been doing that all of her life.

I’d forgotten what
a knock-out Danny’s sister is. Sally Ann’s ultra-feminine, curvy figure is
obvious under her pretty yellow, summer dress. Her thick, wavy brunette hair
contrasts with her striking light blue eyes. Other than Renata, she’s the most
kind-hearted woman I’ve ever known.

Right now, she’s
sitting beside Zach.

This draws my
attention because she’s staring at her fingers, her hands clasped together in her
lap. There’s color in her cheeks; Sally’s natural shyness has apparently hit an
all-time high.

Then I finally notice—Zachary
Bailey is openly admiring. He hasn’t taken his eyes from her since he arrived.

What the
hell?

Renata glances
at me with a shrewd smile, clearly enjoying the show. Something in her gaze
says,
“Check out the budding romance!”

Evidently she thinks
these two were made for each other.

I don’t see it.
How would that work?

Sally Ann
Berdeaux is sweet, kind and caring—beautiful, modest and shy. She’s the classic
Southern Belle. I have no doubt she’s ‘saving herself’ for marriage.

Saving
herself… for Zach?

This afternoon, Zach
arrived on his Harley. Decked out in black motorcycle leathers, complete with
romp ‘em, stomp ‘em, shit-kicking boots, he could pass as a terrify-you-shitless
sadist. Independent, violent, aggressive and unemotional (except for enduring
rage) he has colorful tattoos everywhere, a nose ring, and God only knows what
other kinds of piercings he has in hidden places on his body.

My mind boggles
with that thought.

Zach’s a huge,
scary, tough-looking guy. With all of my combat training, even
I’d
find it
daunting if I met him in a dark alley.

Sally Ann and
Zach? Talk about the beauty and the beast! Zach is rough-edged, fierce and
wild. He reminds me of a blue-painted, highland warrior. Could Sally Ann be the
woman to tame him?

I
surreptitiously check out her brother’s response to this unexpected match.
Danny has a subtle smile, clearly he’s not opposed to the match. Sally Ann has
been repressed by social tradition and bullied by a severe father. Perhaps
Danny feels it’s time his sister was liberated.

Zachary Bailey
is his own man, someone who escaped societal constraints long ago. Well, who
knows? Perhaps he’ll set her free.

André stands
before us at the head of the table, an open, yet somber look on his face. We
all come to attention, he’s ready to speak.

“Mes amis,”
he
begins, “in Belgium some 20 years ago, a number of young girls disappeared. It
was discovered they had been abducted by a man, Marc Dutroux. He kept them looked
in a secret room in his basement. He told the girls that others would come who
would hurt them, and they should not make noise. He manipulated them with fear,
so he appeared as their protector.

“Several children
died, their bodies buried in his garden. The last two girls were discovered and
saved. The enquiry took years, it was oh—most incompetently carried out.
Witnesses disappeared, evidence lost. Throughout the trial, Dutroux insisted he
was part of a pedophile ring that operated throughout Europe. He named police
officers, businessmen, doctors and even high-level Belgian politicians as
accomplices. They called this pedophile cabal,
Les Ballets Roses, ‘
The
Pink Ballets.’

“In America,
there was the ‘Franklin case’ in 1988. It began as a financial investigation
but soon became a sordid study of drugs, money-laundering and a nationwide
child abuse ring.

“
Eh bien,
the chief investigator assigned to the case died—suddenly and violently, as did
more than
a dozen other people
linked to this case. They were murdered,
vous
comprenez?
Witnesses changed their testimony out of fear. Some child
victims refused to alter their personal stories of molestation. Two of these
young people were sent to jail for perjury.”

Several gasps
are heard but mostly a thick, stunned silence results as shock reverberates
through the room. Renata squeezes my hand as my jaw drops open. My mind wants
to shut down rather than process the words I hear.

Could this
happen in America? In our country?

“
Alors,”
André
continues,
“the case was ‘investigated’ and dismissed as a ‘public
hoax.’
Why
, you may ask? How could this happen? First, a most
comprehensive effort was made to hide the truth through the use of bribery,
blackmail, threat and murder. Second, it is difficult for people to conceive,
perceive or believe such evil exists in the world. Most of us do not wish to imagine
such ugliness, no?”

I find myself
nodding.

People have
become more comfortable openly discussing bullying. There are public service
ads, books, blogs, billboards, assemblies and classes highlighting the
phenomenon. Yet when it comes to child sexual abuse, people balk.

Countless
children are abused every day, physically, sexually, psychologically and
through neglect. Incest is common, yet ninety percent of incest victims never
tell anyone.

These cold, hard
facts are ignored because such evil is uncomfortable to talk about or
acknowledge. Is it willful blindness or wishful thinking?

Cunning, careful
and camouflaged. Pedophiles have relentless, unnatural cravings.

Many adults
prefer to believe children
imagine
they have been abused, or that their request
for help is simply a childish cry for attention. They cannot believe friends,
neighbors, loved ones, or their own relatives—people they know and like, are
only
pretending
to be nice.

André raises his
chin. “If you wish, read the book
The Franklin Cover-up: Child Abuse,
Satanism, and Murder in Nebraska
by John DeCamp. He details treacherous
corruption of the institutions of government as well as the press. Just like
the Belgium case, only one person was charged. The true offenders? No one could
touch them.

“In 1994, the
Discovery Channel was to air "Conspiracy of Silence," a documentary
that detailed the Franklin case. It exposed a network of religious leaders and
Washington politicians who used children for sex. The screening was legally
quashed by a judge, halted due to pressure applied by powerful politicians.
Now, more than twenty years later, the ban has been lifted. I recommend you
view this documentary. It can be found on YouTube.”

André’s lips
firm, his expression tightens. “Here and now, I have no doubt you have stumbled
upon another powerful pedophile ring.” He gestures to everyone at the table.
“What happens next is up to you. What are each of you prepared to do? By
personally exposing these men, you jeopardize your reputation, for they command
the media and will vilify you. Worse, you risk the lives of your friends,
family and yourselves.”

Zach leaps up
from the opposite end of the table. Chest out, he has a belligerent,
to-hell-with-everyone expression on his face. “They’re not going to get away
with this!” he snarls loudly, sounding somewhat like a rabid dog. “I don’t care
what happens to me. I’ll tell the world. Fuck them all!”

Sally Ann slants
him a furtive gaze, her face shines with awe and admiration. Oh, yes. Clearly
opposites do attract. Zach is courageous. He’s a real hero to take on this
powerful group.

André’s
accepting smile brightens the room. “
Très bon! Bravo, mon ami!
” he says,
clapping his hands. “If this is what is in your heart, I will make great use of
you.” His head raises and lowers, nodding happily.

For the next
twenty minutes, the nervous energy in the room soars. Everyone talks at once.
They speak to each other as well as addressing the group. André continues to
stand, watching everyone patiently, answering an occasional question and listening
intently.

It seems Zach is
the only one of us who fearlessly wants to be an active and public part of this
crusade. No one else seems to be far enough along the road to recovery to
tackle his or her molesters. There is too much at stake, too much to lose.

Standing up and
going public is a monumental step to take. It's like jumping off a high cliff
into the unknown. Not only are our own reputations and lives on the line, but
also, the lives of our loved ones. This is particularly the case when our
enemies are part of such a formidable group.

I want to throw
myself into the battle, I want to expose these monsters and personally take
them down. At this point I don’t care who knows about my father and what he did
to me. If it helps, I’ll tell my story to the world.

But how can I?

Once, not long
ago, I was broken, alone and empty. I ached with the desperate isolation that can
only come from intense, unrelenting self-hate.

Now, all of that
has changed.

I am a soldier
and a fighter. I’ve been trained to kill. Yet, war is easy when you don’t care
if you live or die. Indifference makes one brave. Indecision or wondering if I
should back down from a fight is something I’ve never done.

I’m forced to
think about it now.

Renata’s my
soulmate and my very best friend. I don’t have to act differently around her. I
don’t have to be perfect. By being honest and dropping every pretense, I’ve found
true intimacy. With her, I’m free to be
myself.

My darling girl
is my reason for living. How could I possibly put her at risk? The short answer
is, I can’t.

To
not
stick
my neck out for such a worthy cause, shames me deeply.

I’m putting the
life of one person over countless children who may be suffering at the hands of
these monsters, yet there’s no other choice. I’d do
anything
to keep her
safe.

I’m beginning to
understand how men like this so easily get away with their crimes.