“Neve, the police officer wants to talk you.”
I’m here. Your dad doesn’t have to go.
“Will you talk to him about Mack? Dad, Neve said you can stay.” Dad sits again.
I’ll tell him everything he wants to know.
“Are you sure?” She’s quiet for some time. I’m nervous now she’s disappeared and doesn’t want to talk to David.
“What’s happening?” Dylan asks.
“Neve’s gone quiet. She’s not talking. I don’t know what’s going on.”
I’m here. AJ will be with me.
“She’s here.” I point to my head. “She has AJ here too, in case she’ll need him.”
“Are you sure you can do this?” Dylan asks.
“We have to,” I reply on behalf of all of us.
David nods. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He stands and leaves the room.
“You don’t have to do this,” Mom says.
I smile at her and exhale deeply. “Yeah, I do. It’s the only way we know David will have enough information to get this guy. I’ve spent countless hours agonizing over this. I’ve changed my mind so many times. We just have to do it.”
“For everything you’ve been through, I think you’re the strongest person I know,” Dylan says. He leans over and gives me a small kiss on the cheek.
“Your mother and I are so proud of you.”
“Okay, I have some paper, and some pencils. I’m sorry, this is the best I could get at this time of the morning.” David places some blank paper, and half a dozen coloring pencils on the table. “I’m going to record this too.” He places a video recorder on the table, and clicks the record button.
Neve’s already bursting to come through. She saw the pencils. My mind clouds, as a deep darkness is desperately tugging me toward it.
It takes me a little while before I can focus.
“M’s mom!” I squeal with excitement. I eye the pencils on the table and I can feel my face erupting with a huge smile. “I love coloring.”
The man sitting opposite me is the man M wants me to talk to. “Hi,” he says in a soft voice.
“Dylan, will you draw with me?”
“I sure will,” he says as he slides a piece of paper over to me and keeps one for himself. “What color would you like?”
“Hmmm.” I look at the pencils. “Green please.” Dylan slips the green pencil over to me. “Thank you.” I notice M’s dad sitting next to Paris. “Hi.” I sheepishly smile at him. He gives me a little wave.
“Hi, Neve. My name’s David. I’m a police officer.”
“I know.” I draw a picture of a tree on my paper.
“Can you tell me about yourself?”
“I’m only talking to you because M said we need to so you can arrest Mack. Are you going to put him in jail?”
“I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure he’s put in jail.”
“That’s not really an answer, is it?”
David chuckles. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone ever again, Neve.”
“I would beg for him to stop, and he’d laugh at me. He’d tell me I liked what he used to do to me, and no one would believe a stupid cunt like me.” Dylan flinches catching my attention. “I’m sorry, Dylan. Did I say something wrong?”
“No, not at all.” He smiles at me. But I can see his eyes have tears in them.
“He used to say, he’s as powerful as a Mack truck when he’d finish touching me. He used to play music so no one knew what he was doing.”
“Did you ever tell anyone?”
I shake my head. “He told me he’d kill me, and our foster parents. Once, he took the cat and beat its head in with a rock. He was laughing when he did it. I was crying. He told me he’d do to me what he did to the cat if I ever told. Our foster parents found the cat and had no idea who’d do something so horrible. I was sad too, because I knew he did it, and I knew what he’d do to me.”
“You’re a very brave girl, Neve. It takes a lot of strength to talk to a complete stranger.”
“If M trusts you, then I trust you. Don’t betray us.”
“I won’t. I promise. I’ll even work with Eveline so we can make sure Mack doesn’t get away with what he did to you.”
I smile. “Good. My hope for him is to get the same treatment he gave to us.”
You’re doing a good job, Neve. I’m here for you if you need me.
“I know AJ.”
“Tell me about AJ.”
“AJ protects M. He hates doing what he has to do, but we all understand the roles we have. Now, we have to work together to make sure Mack goes to jail.”
“Neve, do you remember the first time it started?”
I look up at him. “I remember everything. The way he smelt of cigarettes, because he used to get cigarettes from one of the boys who lived down the street. I remember the smell of beer when he’d sneak one out of the fridge, and bring it into my room to drink it. I remember the sounds he’d make. The way his hair would fall in his eyes. I remember him asking me if I wanted to play a game with his friends, but I knew by the way he licked his lips what that meant, and I would never go with him when he wanted me to play with his friends. They were scarier than Mack. I remember everything. I can never forget. But I remember, so M never has to.”
I hear someone crying, and I look over to M’s mom. M’s dad looks sadder than Paris.
“I’m sorry for making you sad,” I say.
“Oh no!” She leans over, and covers me in a huge cuddle. “You’re an amazing person, Neve. Do you hear me? You’re such a beautiful, and amazing young lady.”
“Thank you.” I’m not sure why she said that. Actually, I’m not even sure why I didn’t react when she hugged me. All I know is it felt nice. “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”
“Good. Let’s get this guy, Neve,” David says.
Yes, let’s.
I knock on Dylan’s door, waiting for him to answer. The amazing aroma wafts through, making my stomach growl with hunger. Dylan opens the door, he looks frazzled. He doesn’t say anything before he runs back to the kitchen and leaves me to come in without even a kiss.
“You okay? Do you need help?” I ask as I walk in, close the door then place my bag and cardigan on his sofa.
“I burnt the pasta,” he calls from the kitchen.
“You burnt the pasta? How does pasta become burnt?” I head into the kitchen to see what he’s doing.
“Ugh. Like this.” With the tongs he’s holding, he tries to pick up some pasta. It’s mushy and collapses as he tries to show me. “I forgot about it.” He moves the pot over to the sink, and tips it down the drain, then turns on the garbage disposal. “What a waste.”
“I’m pretty sure we could’ve eaten it.”
“It was mush.” His mouth flattens into a thin, disapproving line. “Worse than mush. But it’s okay. I’ve got more.” He turns to face his pantry, and takes another box of pasta out of the cupboard. “I won’t burn this one.” He fills the pot with water, and puts it back on the range. “I’ll watch it like a hawk.”