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“Time. Money.”
“The government knows you exist now?”
“Yes, but the details on the documents are guesstimates. I chose my own birthday. I had my teeth examined later, and the dentist told me I was likely around the age I thought I was, within a few years.”
“Wow.”
His mouth twisted and he turned his gaze to the television. “As for how old I was when she started lending me out—it was gradual. Many things are a blur. I was taught to entertain and be charming. Clients were only allowed to look.” It was a recitation of facts. Emotionless. “As I got older, I was eased into being touched, then into doing more. Eventually, she traded my ass to a rival-turned-business-associate. That day, I decided, was my fifteenth birthday—although I might have been younger or older. After that, it was a daily occurrence. Her only rule was that her guests had to be tested first, and I wasn’t to be damaged.”
Jesus. What a fucking nightmare. How did anyone survive it?
“That’s…awful.” Any words I could think of felt inadequate. “I’m so sorry there was no one around to protect you.”
He gave me a nod, acknowledging what I’d said. “Martine also used me, herself. In my head, it felt like approval, like love. I was grateful for any scrap of attention that wasn’t negative.”
I wanted to puke but fought back my revulsion. Of course, I’d care about that happening to any kid, but I wanted to dig the bitch up and kill her again—with my bare hands.
Trying to control my grief for him, and my anger, I asked, “And the little scars you have? Was that Martine, too?”
“No, those were all Loïc trying to control something—Loïc, trying to remember he was real.” He smiled, looking embarrassed. “The last thing she wanted, was to mark up the merchandise, so she tried not to. When I left marks, she had other ways of punishing me.”
The silence between us grew as I fumbled for a response. The monotone of the narrator in the murder show he was watching was a quiet, comforting cadence even as gory crime scene photos flashed across the screen.
“I’m sorry for burdening you with that.” Loïc made a dismissive gesture. “Just a bit of history to let you know what you’ve taken into your bed.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t have a friend to confide in when you were a kid—an adult you could trust to get you out of there. It’s not fair.”
“The world isn’t really fair though, is it? Fair is a pleasant lie we tell ourselves—a false hope given to children in bedtime stories. I’m glad I didn’t have any notion of fair, when I was a boy. I think I would’ve come through the other side of it worse than I have.”
I moved my little finger to rest on top of his, and he didn’t yank his hand away.
“I didn’t know what line of business she was in until a few months before I killed her. Now, I’m free, but I have no idea whathappened to the children my mother arranged to be delivered to those men. If she had any records, she kept them in her head. I combed through every inch of her properties and found nothing, so those boys are out there somewhere, suffering, with no help to get them out. I’d planned to kill all of those evil men, but Martine called them fake names, and the payments came from untraceable accounts. I have no way to find them.”
“No encrypted files on her computer or anything?”
“She was old-fashioned—she didn’t believe in computers. I might be able to pick out a man or two from a police lineup, but I would need to know their names, and maybe what country they lived in to be of any use. Even then, what would the prosecutor say? The defense lawyer would say yes, it’s very sad that Mr. Leduc was abused as a child, but can you trust his memories? She had the local judges and police on her payroll.” He laid his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. “When I couldn’t find any records, I burned the godforsaken house down in a fit of rage.”
At some point, he’d shifted closer, as though I might be able to save him from his memories.
“You did the world a favor by killing her,” I assured him. “If she had everyone in her pocket, there would’ve been no stopping her.”
“You think?”
“Yes. Even if only you were affected by what she was doing, you would’ve had just cause. As it is, think about how many children you saved by stopping her.”
“But what about the other ones? I helped her entertain monsters. There’s no way to make amends for that.”
“You didn’t know what business they had with Martine. Now you do. If presented with the same situation again, you’d do things differently.”
“That doesn’t absolve me.”
“Blaming yourself isn’t fair. You were a child and she deliberately kept you ignorant. All you can do is move forward and make different choices in the future.”
He leaned his head on my shoulder while he rested his gaze on the TV. It felt a bit weird, but it also felt like a compliment—like I was worthy of his trust.
“I guess.”
“Would you let someone abuse your brother’s children, or your own?”
