Never again

The crime scene was particularly gruesome.  Not only for the brutality, but also for victims trophies that were arrayed as evidence against him.  See, the victim was a pedophile, there was no doubt about that.  The photographs, videos, locks of hair carefully labeled, and articles of clothing all told the story.

If there was anyone who couldn’t read the evidence the note staked to his chest told it all.  It said “This bastard has abused his last child”.  And that was definitely true.  Dead was dead, but everything done to this man made sure he would not abuse again.  

His entire body was beaten, bruised, and bloody.  He was tied to a chair and there were tourniquets on each of his wrists.  That was obviously done so he wouldn’t bleed out when his hands were cut off.  Blood ran down his cheeks from the empty eye sockets that stared blankly ahead.  And his mouth formed a perpetual “O” with his own cock and balls stuffed inside.

Finally his throat had been sliced from ear to ear.  But the police just didn’t seem to care too much.  I knew this because at least one of them had a child in the pictures and all of them knew at least a few of the kids.  That is the way it is in a small town.

Me, I had poured out all of my emotions over the weekend while Gene and I had our little get together.  I just wished I had done it sooner.  For some of the pictures of kids were quite old, mine had been in there for over 30 years.  How many of the younger kids could I have saved?

It was just a matter of time before the investigation turned up the fact that my picture was in there, but there were others who lived around here still as well.  I don’t think I left anything behind to tie me to the crime.  And to tell you the truth I don’t think I cared.  Part of me wanted to tell everyone exactly what had happened.

Exactly what had happened all those years ago, how it destroyed a little boy. Exactly how my life fell apart time and again because parts of me were broken.  Exactly how I tried to take my life on several occasions because his sins had darkened my soul.  And finally, exactly how I had freed myself his demons as I watched his life drain away.

The only thing that mattered is that all of the children in those pictures and all the others he abused and never got to pose for him.  Never again would there be a naked child posing in his tub or on his bed, and never again would we wake up fearing his touch.  Never again.