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"Thank you." The boy sniffles as he hugs Arlo. "I couldn’t live without my teddy.”
Arlo tousles the boy’s hair. "I understand. I'd never be able to leave my alien stuffy behind, either."
"Hurry," I urge. There isn't time to fuck around. "You can do this outside. We have ten minutes before this place blows.”
Fuck, this is hard to watch. The captives are so young and they’re shaking. I find a bin of blankets and drape as many as I can around the boys.
Constantine leads them outside into the parking lot. The sun is coming up, but we stay in the section where the guards won't see us.
Benedetto turns to me. "Grab a bin. Pack as many drug samples as you can."
"Why?"
"If this shit goes to trial, we need evidence of as much malfeasance as possible. We must prove we broke in here because they were trafficking drugs."
I select a nearby bin and hurry. I grab various packets from each station, thrusting them into the container. I select pill bottles and generic omeprazole packages as well as other drugs such as aspirin and ibuprofen.
Benedetto does the same. He searches high and low for evidence of malfeasance, combing through every part of the station. From a locked door that he shoots off, he grabs bags of a mysterious black substance covered in plastic wrap. He tosses them into his bin, then dumps samples of a powdery white substance in, as well.
That's when I lay eyes on the needles. A breath escapes me and my insides shake. I pick one up and shove it in the bin, forcing myself not to think about it.
"Daddy." I rush to Benedetto’s side. "I found the needles."
Benedetto furrows his brow. "What needles?"
"This is what they used to inject me every month with drugs that made my head foggy." I clench my fists. "They said it was an HIV preventative but I think they were lying."
Benedetto drags his hand down my lower back. "Is that what you remember, boy?"
"I think so, Daddy." I shake as I try not to stare at the needle. "They injected all the boys except Ollie and my other two friends. They figured out how to get out of that part of the process."
Benedetto holds me tight. "I'm so sorry you went through that, boy. It's not right and it's not fair. You should've had a normal life, growing up in upstate New York with the Bettencourts. You should've played tennis, basketball, soccer at the local park and attended high school with your two older brothers. What these men did to you is so sick."
I furrow my brow. I should be thrilled to hear Daddy's words, but they don't ring true to me.
I shake my head. "None of that sounds familiar, Daddy. My last name isn’t Bettencourt. And I didn’t have older brothers."
Benedetto grits his teeth. "What do you mean?"
My eyes lock on his and that's when I experience the surge of emotions. My lost memories flash through me, twisting through every nook and cranny of my being.
My tree fort.
The weeping willow tree.
My Mom and Dad and the little cocker spaniel named Bella I walked every night.
Dad was a powerful Senator who represented the state of New York.
Mom baked incredible apple pies.
I feel woozy. "Another memory returned, Daddy."
"What, boy?" Benedetto squeezes my hand. "Is it about your family?"
"The Bettencourts aren’t my parents." I burrow into him. "You’re thinking ofWesleyBettencourt. The turtle boy who died.MyDad was a Senator. I don't remember his name, but he took me to Capitol Hill more times than I can count. I had a cocker spaniel named Bella I loved playing with as a boy."
I wrack my brain for my own name, but I can’t recall it. I cross my fingers and hope like hell it comes soon.
