Page 33 of Little Dove

Finally, her sobs subside, and a few little sniffles sound before she lets out a sigh, and her body goes lax. For a minute I wonder if she’s fallen asleep, but then she whispers, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

This woman never ceases to amaze me. “No, I am sorry,colombina, and you don’t need to apologize to me, not ever. I should have given thought to what you’ve been through and not tried to force you to go along with what I want.”

She sighs. “You said you had information on me but didn’t look that much into it, so it’s not like you knew.”

“I knew some of it,” I admit carefully. “Though not any details. The only thing I knew about was that you had been sexually assaulted, and that at sixteen, you finally got to a hospital and they were able to identify who did it. I didn’t look at any other information about you. And when I saw you, so strong and confident in your shop, not letting anyone get under your skin, I was stupid enough to think that maybe you were okay. That you put it behind you and sought therapy or something to help you.”

She gives a soft snort. “The foster system doesn’t really care if you get therapy or not. You’re just another number to the overworked social workers. I saw someone when I was in the hospital, and they wanted me to continue seeing someone, but the group home I got sent to didn’t have time for that. They were understaffed and trying to handle other kids that needed the help more. By then I was just numb to it, and I forced myself to let it go. They were in jail, and I needed to get on with my life.”

“They?” It clicks then, and guilt is replaced by hatred and fury. Those fuckers better still be in jail, and I’m going to make sure they never leave it alive.

Amara is quiet for a moment and then she starts talking. The longer I listen, the more disgusted and enraged I become. I have to work hard to contain myself so I don’t frighten her.

“I hit puberty early. I’d barely turned ten when I got my first period. The foster family I was staying with had an older man, an uncle, who stayed with them for a few months to get back on his feet. They all knew his history, that he spent time in jail for raping a twelve-year-old girl. I guess they thought that since I was only ten, I wasn’t his type.” She gives a dark, humorless laugh. “They were very wrong. I was ten, but I was already filling out, and he noticed. I saw him noticing me, and I avoided him as much as possible. I started locking my door at night. He tried to open it a couple times, and I hid under the bed. Such a stupid hiding place. If someone heard him, he would pretend to be sleepwalking and go to bed. But one night, I forgot to lock my door, and that was all he needed. He waited until he was sure that everyone was asleep, and he crept into my room.”

She says it so matter-of-factly, like she’s reciting from a book, while I have to work to keep myself still.She was a child. A child that should have been protected. “Was it only the once?” I manage to ask.

“No. He managed to corner me alone two more times, and he said that if I told anyone, he’d kill me. I was ten, and I believed him. To everyone else, he was a happy, caring, uncle figure, and he never so much as looked at me wrong. But it was there, in his eyes. In the way he watched me just a little too long. So I kept quiet and I ran away the first chance I got. When I was found, I told the police officer, and they took me into the hospital for a rape kit… it was the first of many. But he was smart. He always wore a condom when he raped me. Didn’t want to chance me getting away and his DNA ratting him out.”

“Did they arrest the fucker?”

She shakes her head, still not looking at me. “No, because when they went to the house, he was gone. I’d managed to hide for two days before the cops found me, and he took that time to get gone. I was removed from that home and placed in another.They promised me that I would be safe, that they would make sure to put me in a good home this time. One they thoroughly vetted. One that had only women. I’d be safe. They were wrong.”

“How were they wrong?” But I already know, my stomach sinking.

“Because people don’t think of child molesters being women,” she replies, her eyes taking on a far-away look. “Sometimes, they can be far worse than the men.”

“I’m so sorry, Amara,” I murmur into her hair. “I’ll kill every last one of them.” It’s a vow, and one I plan to keep.

“The uncle is in prison, and he’ll die in there. He got arrested for raping another girl, eleven this time, in another state a few months after I was removed. I checked when I got old enough to use the internet at school. And the rest, some of them are still around, but I don’t let myself think about them.”

As much as I don’t want to ask, I feel like I have to. “And the father and son?”

She stiffens again, but she doesn’t pull away. I’m not sure if I should take that as a good sign or a bad one. After another moment of silence, she finally tells me the story.

“I knew what would happen the moment I saw them. I tried to refuse to go into the house, refused to be left there, and threatened to run away, but the social worker told me that I had no say, and that this was the best place for me to be. They were a very religious family, one that had many foster children who stayed with them until they aged out of the system at eighteen. But you can’t hide evil, no matter how big you smile, or how understanding you pretend to be. What no one told me was that all the other foster kids they had were boys. I was the first girl. I was practically served up to them on a silver platter.

“The other problem was that they were smart. Clay knew exactly how he had to play it. He never once got too close to me; he was careful to keep his distance, to warn his two sons awayfrom me. I was only allowed to spend time with his wife and three daughters. I was never allowed to be in a room alone with the boys, or even with him, for the first four months. I started to relax, thinking that I got it wrong. He even had his wife show me the lock that was on the bedroom door so that I would feel safe. And it worked.” That last part is said bitterly, her voice full of self-loathing.

“You were a child, Amara. That fucker knew exactly what he was doing. He was probably doing the same thing to his own fucking daughters.” Even just thinking about it makes me murderous.

“You would think, but no. Instead, he spent his time abusing the young boys and girls in their Church group. Apparently, he didn’t have a type, he just liked them young. But he never once touched his own kids because that was too fucked up for his warped moral compass. Still, he eventually wanted to show his oldest son the kind of things he could get away with. He even used him to get some of the girls to cooperate. Corey would seduce them, drug them, and then they would take turns. By the time I came along, according to the police, they had the whole thing worked out.”

“Please tell me those fuckers are dead,” I state through clenched teeth. “That someone in that prison put them in the fucking ground.”

“No, they’re still alive in prison, last that I heard. They should be coming up for parole soon, though.”

I make a mental note to get their information and find out who can handle them for me. Their days are numbered, because they will never see the outside of those prison walls again. Their deaths will be slow and painful. They’ll pay for every second of agony they put her through. But one more question remains…

“Did the wife know?” I ask gently, rubbing her arm soothingly.

“I think so, but I can’t prove it,” she finally admits. “I think she was happy to bury her head in the sand, and as long as he didn’t touch their kids, she let it slide. But the daughters had an idea. They never had friends over, and they stayed away from their brothers as much as possible. I think he planned to teach each of his sons the same behavior, but Corey, being the oldest, got all of it from the get go.”

“How long before you were able to get out?”

“After it started, it took me a month before I finally got away. They were so sure that I would never escape that they never even bothered to wear condoms or try to hide any evidence of what they did. They always drugged me so that I was awake enough to know what was going on, but unable to fight back. That last night, they either were too cocky or not paying attention, because they didn’t give me enough. They went back to their rooms afterward, and when I heard Clay snoring, and Corey talking on his video game, I knew it was my only chance. I got out, ran to a neighbor’s and called 911. I deliberately picked a neighbor that didn’t go to their church, because everyone thought the family was so perfect and righteous, they wouldn’t have believed me; they would have called them or took me back. Clay and Corey were both arrested within hours after they did the rape kit at the hospital. The rest of the kids were removed from the house, yanked right out of their beds.”

More hot tears soak my neck. It breaks my heart even more and I hug her tighter, nuzzling at the top of her head to give some sort of comfort, small as it may be. “You were so fucking strong. So fucking brave,colombina,” I murmur. “You had the courage that no one else did.”

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