“Molly.” Dylan steps forward, and reaches for me.
“No,” I whisper, as I grasp at my hair. “He used to say, ‘I’m as powerful as a Mack truck.’ He’d say it when he’d…” my voice trails off. I don’t need to say anymore.
My entire body feels like it’s shutting down. My mind can’t think straight. It’s him.
Now let’s go get the bastard and castrate him. AJ jumps up and down. He’s ready for a fight.
This is about all of us, AJ, not just you. Kate steps in to calm him. We need to consider what we all want to do.
Chop his dick off. Dirty fucker.
No, AJ, we all have to agree. Kate reminds him.
“Neve, what do you want to do?” I ask.
Neve’s timid, sitting back and listening. She’s terrified, I can tell just by how she’s curled into herself and barely talking.
“Neve?”
We need to go to the police.
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
It’s the only way. If we hurt him, we’ll feel guilty for hurting him. We’re not him. We’re better than him.
“We are.” I gather every ounce of strength I have, and go to sit at the table. “We’re going to go to the police,” I say.
“There’s more to this,” Gemma adds.
“This can’t be good,” Mom murmurs.
“He works as a janitor. In an elementary school. And he lives about forty minutes from here.”
“He’s nearby? And he works in a kids’ school?” I shake my head, unable to fully comprehend the barrage of information. “Please tell me he doesn’t have kids of his own?” I beg.
“He doesn’t. But here’s something I found out. He’s not married, but he wears a wedding ring, so parents won’t suspect him. He does it to throw everyone off his scent. I’ve been interacting with him on a social media site young kids use. He thinks I’m a ten-year-old girl.”
“Can’t you get in trouble for doing that?” Dad asks.
Gemma smiles proudly. “I’m working with a phenomenal district attorney. She’s got my back.”
“It’s decided. We go to the police. He needs to be stopped.”
“We’ll be right there with you, Molly,” Mom says as she reaches across the table and places her hand over mine, giving me a gentle squeeze.
Tonight’s been overwhelming. My body aches from all the traumatizing recollections I’ve faced. “I’m going to go to bed,” I say abruptly. I can’t sit here and talk about him, or what Gemma’s doing to gather information. I just can’t. I hardly make eye contact with anyone, before I take off up the stairs and disappear into my room. Zhen follows and when I get in bed, he lays beside me.
My mind is racing. They’re all talking, but I’m trying to zone out and ignore them. AJ’s anger is making my heart race. He’s furious. He wants to hurt him.
“Molly,” I hear Dylan’s voice from the door.
“Yeah?”
“Is it okay if I come in?”
I try and muffle the voices. The angry, the sad, the calm. “Yeah.”
Dylan walks into the room, toes off his shoes, and climbs into bed beside me. He swaddles me in his arms, holding me against his chest. My head is to his chest, and I can hear the rhythmic, steady pace of his heart beating.
I try to be strong, for all of us.
But being wrapped in Dylan’s arms makes me feel safe.
“Am I doing the right thing?” I clear my throat, and swallow back the lump.
“I don’t think there are any other options.”
“I don’t know what to do,” my voice is small.
“I can’t tell you what to do, Molly. All I can say is, if you do nothing, one day you’re going to hate yourself for enabling him to hurt others. But if you do something, then you’ll forever be proud of acting on your strength.”
I bring my thumb up to my mouth, and flick my nail against my teeth several times. I try and play every possible scenario in my head. He’s right—if I do nothing, I’ll hate myself. But if I go to the police, I might not be believed.
The only good thing that’ll come from this is that this monster will not be able to hurt anyone else.
I have to do it. I have to.
Yes, M, you do.
The palms of my hands are sweating.
Standing in front of an unassuming building, I look up to see its sheer size. Still it’s inconspicuous because it looks exactly like all the other buildings surrounding it.
The sun breaks from behind the brick building, casting the entrance into shadow.
Funny, that. Because I’ve been living in the shadows all my life. Now is the time for me to come out of the shadows, and speak my truth. Speak our truth.
There’s a line of cars in front of the building, all marked with the same lettering.
My heart beats quickly as a shock of finality runs through my veins.
This is where part of me will die and another part of me will live.
We’re here for you.
All my life I’ve been worried about what people think of me. But I can’t continue on in a life where I’m only breathing. I need to learn to live.
I take several deep breaths, ready to cross the street and take the leap I’ve been longing for.
“You can do this,” I say to myself. The sun is moving higher, the shadow becoming smaller.
Yes, you can.
I look to my left, and to my right, checking for oncoming cars.
I keep walking, crossing the street. I know if I stop for even a second, I’ll talk myself out of going.
You can do it.
I walk until I come to the automated doors that slowly slide open.
Hopefully, they’ll believe you.
I head to the counter, where a woman who’s wearing a uniform, her dark hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, is working on a computer. She looks up, but remains seated. “Can I help you?” she says in a curt voice.
My hands tremble, so I knit them together to stop the emotion bursting to come forward.
“I um,” my voice quivers with uncertainty.
“Are you okay?” Hearing something in my voice, she stands and comes closer to the counter. She looks behind me, searching for a hint as to why I’m so edgy.
“I um need to talk to police unit who deals with sexual abuse.”
The lady furrows her brows together, and straightens. She asks a question I wasn’t expecting. “Are you okay?”
I look at her, surprised. “I’m okay,” I reply, skeptically. “But I need to talk to someone about what happened to me as a child.”
Realization dawns on her. She thought I was recently sexually abused. “Okay.” She offers me a small smile. “Wait just a moment.” She walks away, and picks up the phone.
I step back from the counter. My stomach quivers with nerves, as I fidget with the hem of my t-shirt. My parents and Dylan wanted to come with me, but I didn’t want them here, so I snuck out of the house early and came to the police station. I just need to do this by myself. By ourselves.
My skin prickles with nerves. I’m unsure of what I’m doing. I was so confident up until a moment ago. Now, I’m petrified.
I turn, and begin walking out and back to where my car’s parked.