Memories.

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Photo by Masaaki Komori on Unsplash

She stood at the doorway, and looked into the bedroom. It had being many years since she had seen the room. Not something she really wanted to do, yet she just had to. Like watching an accident unfurl before one’s eyes. You know you should look away, but you just can’t.
Images and memories cruelly flashed through her mind. She stood by her side, with her hand gently on her back, offering her strength and support. She bit her quivering lip. She tried the deep breathing, like she had practised. But it was not working now, when she needed it most. Her chest and shoulders began to shake, with her breathing becoming rapid and shallow. Tears and distress not too far away now.
She gently encouraged her, with her persuasive words.

‘You’ve got to face it sometime, love. You cannot keep running away’.
‘You are safe here. You will not come to any harm, while I’m with you. Do you trust me ?’

She looked at the older woman’s, kindly, sincere face. Could she really trust her. She studied the dark uniform, and the official accessories. The walkie talkie. The mobile phone, attached to her stab proof waistcoat. The silver handcuffs secure within the snug compartment of the wide black leather belt. She did not note the missing body cam. Perhaps if she had…..

They needed her to break, to show vulnerability. They could then show her the false kindness and concern, that could be used to confuse and entrap her once again.

‘Why don’t you go and sit on the bed’, the police officer cajoled. ‘It’s only by facing your fears, that you’ll break free of them, once and for all’. Her words, soft, sincere and believable.

She slowly moved towards the bed. Those horrible images, and sounds, hidden for so long from her everyday consciousness, came to life in her mind. That putrid scent, of tobacco, cheap aftershave and alcohol. The loud, crazy fast, thumping music. Their insane maniacal laughter, as they were about to satisfy there perverted lustful desires, on another unwilling innocent, echoed in the recesses of her mind, torturing her, yet again. She began to feel light headed. Her legs weakened and she quickly sat on the bed, before she fell. Her school satchel drooped to the floor. The police officer helped her to lay down, and soothed the childs lightly damp hair, and flushed face.

‘There, there, it will be alright’. She gently carresed the childs pale skin. So soft, and inviting to the touch. The full luscious lips, and wide innocnet brown eyes. Her heart beat faster, and the chemicals in her stomach began to break free. Yet again she was on the verge of intruading on, and stealing yet another innocents childhood. She moved her face towards the young girls lips, who turned her head away, and struggled to move from the bed. The police officer grabbed both her wrists harshley and lay her body on top of her young captive, trapping her.

It crackled into life, the voice was serious and urgent. He spoke fast.

‘Get out now, her Mother is entering the gate, and you know what a mad bitch she is, get out now’.
‘Ok’, she hurridely whispered into the walkie talkie.

‘Ok, so you heard all that’, her face so close to her young captive. ‘Say nothing to anyone, especially your Mother, or I will bring a whole lot of heartache to this family. Do you understand’. The voice, even and full of ugly menace.

She nodded, while the older woman, moved away from her, and stood up by the bed,  readjusted her uniform, and calmed her ardour. They both listened as the key was roughly inserted into the front door, and she entered the house.

Written in response to a photo prompt seen here : https://creativewriting.ie/writing-prompts/

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