Found

Fifteen

Warning: Suicide
Mitch's P.O.V
"God, I am so not ready for this." I muttered. My stomach was in knots, my hands sweaty. I was going to be seeing two of the men who haunted my nightmares, beat me, punished me, all while smiling and laughing.

Scott and I were sitting in the court room, the sound of chattering surrounding us. But we were silent, sharing looks or the occasional whispered word.

"None of us are." Scott replied. There were, all together, six of us.

Aspen, sixteen, was one of the lucky few that got out within a few months, but she had been with Alex most of that time. I could see the scars on her neck and shoulders, the same marks I had on my back, under all of my other scars. Her eyes, like the rest of us, were haunted, though she was the best at looking at others and answering than the rest of of were.

Darien, almost eighteen, had and ugly scar that spanned almost the whole the right side of his face. "Stove burner." He had told us when our prying eyes had spoken our question for us. He had been missing for two years. "Thankfully," he told us, "most of that time wasn't with the two."

Basil. Strange name, British lit to his words, was kidnapped about as long ago as I was. He had shaggy, unkempt dirty blind hair and green eyes. As to how he, who was obviously not from Arlington, or even Texas, ended up here, none of us knew.

The last kid was a girl, who wore a long sleeved black turtleneck, her dark brown hair falling over her faint face. At times when her head moved and the hair fell away from her right eye, I could see the ugly scar and milky eye. Blind. She refused to speak, but Scott and I had heard a social worker or whatever they were, talking with some other well dressed person in authority, about this girl.

"Her name is Jezamine." The social worker said. "She is about seventeen. All we know is that Mr. Kirk bought her from her parents. She is mute, the cause more than likely the constant verbal abuse. It is unknown how long she was there."

I looked at Scott and instantly fell into a sulk.

And you think you have it bad. Oh, poor you. You were raped. Oh horror. You had the same thing up your ass that you've always wanted and you cried. You can still talk, still be around people, look them in the eye. You don't have it worse. No. You are just a pathetic excuse for a human, who has to make it all about him. Everything. All eyes on you. Oh, look at me, I'm having a panic attack. I am burdening others because I am such a fucking screwup.

I could hear the mocking in the voice as it screamed at me, shoving me back further into my shell. I suddenly felt very, very tired, drained, like just being here was sapping at my strength. I wanted to go home and curl back up in bed, sleep, and hopefully replenish my suddenly low energy.

Yet, at the same time, I was almost on super alert, constantly looking for a threat, something that might do me harm. The thing about these kids is that because we all have been through the same thing, except Scott, we knew to keep our voices low, hands down, unraised, and physical contact was minimal.

All too soon, the judge appeared and a silence fell over the room. The victims, me included, all tensed, heads bowed. We waited anxiously. We knew what was coming. Facing two men whom we feared, who haunted our dreams and waking hours.

There. Walking in, dressed in orange, but head still held high, was Alex, hair a mess, cheeks covered in scruff. Following him, blue eyes scanning the gathering, was Ben, hair just as fly away as ever. I was looking away from him but could still feel his eyes on me.

Subconsciously, I shifted closer to Scott, who put an arm over my shoulders.

Hours later, testimony after testimony, and we still were here. I felt out of place in my simple black shirt and pants among all of these well dressed, put together people.

The Judge adjourned for the day, and we all stood to leave. I, like the other victims, waited until almost everyone was out of the room before I dared head towards the door.

As I left the courtroom, I hoped I would be coming back here only once or twice more. Little did I know, it would take weeks.

Almost five weeks to be exact. In that time, we lost Jezamine. It was shorty after Ben's conviction. She was leaving the building and walked straight into traffic. She died on scene. Never even had a chance.

About two and a half weeks later, we were in court, standing, waiting, anxious, as the Jury filed into their booth.

Everyone sat except for one man. His hair was a mess and he looked so drained. He quietly read out their verdict.

"We, the Jury, find the defendant, Alexander Kirk, Guilty..."

The rest of the man's sentence was drown out by cheers and sobs of happiness. The only people not celebrating were Aspen, Darien, Basil, Scott, Alex, and I.

Scott's blue eyes traveled to Alex's, who's were already locked in him. Scott's eyes were so distraught, staring at the man he had loved.

"I'm sorry, Allie." He murmured and took my hand in his, a comfort.

I had so many mixed emotions on this verdict. I couldn't name any of them. They were all a jumbled mess that made me noting but stressed.

Home. That was the one thing that was discernable in my head. Home, where I could go lay in bed and hide because I felt so low on energy.

Will you look at that. You are complaining about how tired you are, how you have no energy, and yet, you have don't nothing but sit. You are sick a pathetic fucking whore. Why don't you go find somewhere where they will fuck some sense into you. Bitch.

This time, the voice influenced my decisions. Oh, how stupid I was.

~°~
Look. Red Bird, Red Bird. What do you see? I see a poorly written chapter staring at me.

I have huge mixed feelings about this chapter. I wanted to add it in, but I don't know if it was worth all of the time I spent, with how crappy it turned out.

Would y'all be fears and tell me what you thought? I promise a better written chapter 16!

I will earn you right now, Rape and Self Harm next chapter.

Oh, and stay sexy
-Scomiche❤🍓❤