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“I’m almost done. Stay if you need to.”
Ms. West stepped around the desk, opened the top drawer, grabbed a folder and held it up. “This is all I need. Have a good afternoon.”
Panic flared within Kandace. This was her chance. It might be her only one.
“I met them,” she blurted.
Ms. West stopped, turning slowly, a look of surprised concern on her face. “I’m sorry? Met . . . them?”
Kandace nodded, placing the garbage bag on the floor and stepping closer to Ms. West. “I just need a minute of your time. Please.”
Ms. West glanced toward the closed door. “This isn’t a good idea,” she said, taking a step away from Kandace. “And it isn’t your place to speak to me or any of the staff—”
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, hurrying on. “What’s the plan? Does anyone even know of their existence?” She thought of the barely lucid kid staring at her as she’d been violated. He always kicks up such a fuss . . . She had a flash of the thick Bible Dreamboat had been reading from. It only made sense. Those emotionally needy kids were being indoctrinated, slowly and consistently exposed to what was happening at Lilith House, Biblical teachings being twisted and skewed to provide a moral justification. Dreamboat was resisting. Protecting that little girl because he was naturally noble. But for how long? How long until they drained any fight in him? How long until all three of them became monsters too?
Ms. West grasped the folder to her chest as though it was a lifeline. “Pay no attention to them. They do not exist,” she hissed, but then something broke in her expression. She glanced toward the door and then away. “It’s best for them and for you.”
“It sounds like it’s best for you. But not for them. They’re children. They haven’t done anything wrong. They can still be saved.”
Ms. West pulled her shoulders back, but she was clearly distraught. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?”
Her heart raced. This was a risk. But what other choice did she have? Her only hope was to verbalize what Ms. West must know but perhaps wasn’t admitting to herself, and hope to God she had a scrap of sympathy for those kids. “The only choice is to get them involved in what’s happening here. I think you know that’s true.” Ms. West’s face went a lighter shade of pale. “Tell me, have others been taking on more of their education? Teachers you don’t trust? You tried to do right by them, didn’t you? But others are overruling you now. Those kids are a liability. They’re teens now. It’s time to think about their future. And their future is a lifetime of what’s happening upstairs, isn’t it? Or worse.”
Ms. West blanched, the folder she grasped trembling along with her hands.
“Oh yes, you know about that, don’t you? You all do, I suppose. How could you not?”
“No. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you unwell? Perhaps a trip to the infirmary—”
“There’s really no other choice. Involve them in it so they either buy into the sickness or are so ashamed of their involvement that they never speak a word of it. Insurance.”
Ms. West opened her mouth to speak, but Kandace plowed on, taking a step closer. “He’s more than that. I don’t know about the other two, but he is. I think you know it too.”
Ms. West grimaced. She knew exactly who the he was that Kandace was referring to. Of course she did. He was special. Anyone could see that, especially this woman who had presumably been with them most of their lives. She took another step forward. “Who are their mothers?” she asked softly. “Help me help them, Ms. West. I think you might be the only one who can. If you give me some information, anything you’re able, I can bring back help. I’ll say you assisted me. I’ll say you didn’t know about the guild. I’ll swear to it.” She reached out, wrapping her hand gently around Ms. West’s arm. “Please. Please.”
For a moment their gazes held, the older woman’s wide and startled, Kandace’s pleading. Ms. West released a gust of breath, shaking Kandace’s hold off her.
“Like I said, I think you need to visit the infirmary.” She turned, picking up a piece of chalk and writing something low on the chalkboard. “Here’s the nurse you should ask for when you get there. She’s very knowledgeable about psychiatric issues brought on by repeated and long-term drug use.” She set the piece of chalk down and turned. “Now please, don’t speak to me again, Ms. Thompson. It won’t end well for either of us.” And with that she clutched her folder and breezed to the door, opening it quickly and letting it fall shut behind her.
