We walk for a while in silence. I glance at him. I can’t tell whether he’s in shock or disgusted. If only Elise were here. I’m not good at reading people. I hope we don’t disgust him. He meets my gaze with a soft compassionate smile. Oh no, pity. That’s even worse.
“Don’t you dare pity me.”
“I don’t. I admire your grit and the fight in you all. No wonder the Gateways people are trying to make sure you keep your mouth shut. You could do some serious damage to their organization.”
“I don’t think so. We have no proof. Everything I told you is just that, a story. With no proof, nobody in the whole wide world will believe us and convict them. Actually, they’ve told us often enough that nobody would believe a dirty little slut like us.”
“But there’s evidence. Your body still must have scars from what happened.”
That’s it!
It takes a moment for me to crawl out from under the heaviness of his statement. He might as well have held my head under water and waited till there is no more fight left in my body. Amadeus is coming closer and I’m getting more wound up by the minute.
I push back because it’s no use getting angry with him. He only wants to help. He isn’t aware that he’s part of the problem. Like most ordinary people, he lives in this bubble where good things happen to good people, the evil ones will get their just punishment, and nasty stuff like child abuse, violence, or murder only happens in the dark alleys of slums.
That’s what’s wrong with the whole thing, the naïve habit of looking the other way, the blind confidence that victims can expect a fair trial in the justice and law enforcement system. If only people knew.
There is a reason sexual abuse and child abuse are under-reported. Things will never change. The Tribe is awake. I know that because a wave of helplessness and hopelessness washes through me. We can’t afford to give up and falter. We have to stay hopeful and positive or we’ve lost before we even started.
“You are sweet. Really sweet and naïve. I told you we’ve been to the hospital as a young child. The doctors always believed what the parents told them. Accidents in the playground, blah, blah, blah, and fairy tales like that. They only see what they want to see. Why don’t you get it? Nobody believes a certified crazy person. If we stay out of police custody, we might have a chance to disappear overseas.”
He takes a breath as if he wants to launch into a yes-but-argument with me. I’m holding up my hand.
“Stop. Let’s not talk about it. I’d rather concentrate on getting out of here.”
I increase my pace even though the straps of my backpack are cutting into my shoulders and I’m getting tired. It feels like Luke is taking over from me and walks the rest of the way to Scottie’s cabin. At least I hope that’s what’s happening.
Elise: 4 December 2015, Early Evening, Scott’s Hut
I can’t describe how happy I am seeing Scott’s truck. Hiking up and down a mountain in twenty-four hours is about all the exercise I need for this month. Prince is jumping ahead and sniffing around Scott’s hut. Scott is inside and packing a bag for a four-day trip. I’m sitting on a bench next to his front door, my legs stretched out, and enjoy doing nothing. The sun disappeared hours ago behind gray clouds that will any moment now offload the rain. It’s a typical West Coast afternoon.
Prince is yelping at the back behind Scott’s hut. I can’t make out whether it’s excitement or anxiety that makes him bark and get up to see what he’s on about. By the looks of it, it’s both. He’s down on his front legs and barking at a small brown ball.
“Prince, leave the hedgehog alone.” Whatever hunting instinct the tiny animal triggers in Prince, he’s not letting go.
“Prince, come, I don’t fancy a visit to the vet.” He’s not listening. Only the sound of a car approaching minutes later breaks his attention. His ears, which a moment ago laid back flat against his head, spring up. He’s such a good watchdog. How did I ever manage without him? Scott and I arrive at the same time at the front of the house, he from inside, and I from the back with Prince in tow.
Do I imagine it or did Scott move to shelter me from being seen? I’m getting nervous and have to force myself not to hide behind the stack of wood on the side of the house as the sound of a car comes closer.
“Who is it, you think?”
“I don’t know. I’m not expecting anybody.” He throws my backpack and his bag in the back of his truck. “Why don’t you wait in the truck? I’ll take care of this.”
I guess he tries to give the tone of his voice a calming quality, but… it’s not working. I climb into the passenger seat of the truck and wait, wishing I could just disappear into the fabric of the seat. This would be a good time to have Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak. Reality is, though, that only fairy godmothers grant wishes in stories that end with… and they lived happily ever after. I’ve never had a godmother, and I stopped believing in fairy tales long before I entered primary school.
My fears are confirmed. The typical white Holden with blue and yellow colored blocks along the sides and grill and Police painted right, left, and center comes around the corner.
The Tribe is in panic mode and I’m frozen.
“What the…” Amadeus is hissing like a vicious adder in my ear, while
