Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League, and I am certainly not making any money from this story!
Monsters
The door slowly swung open, emitting a dank, rotting and putrid rush of air that washed over the twomen like death. The smell was strong enough to make them retch slightly, causing their hands to shootto their noses protectively in a futile attempt to keep the offending odor at bay. The light inside was dim,cigarette smoke hanging in the air like a thick curtain of nicotine. On the floor there were scattered remnants of trash, piled in the corners and nearly melting into the wall. Along with the trash, mashed into the carpet were bits of feces which seemed to blanket the carpet everywhere.
Giving an appalled glance to the walls, there was a disgusted realization that the fecal matter did not only grace the floor, but the walls as well, as specs were splattered and smeared in places the trash did not cover. There was no doubt in either heroes mind that it was present even under all the rotting garbage. On nearly every surface there seemed to be a brown, moving mass. Closer inspection wrought the answer that was expected: cockroaches. Neither man could step anywhere with out crushing at least four roaches, giving the impression of walking on eggshells.
Green Lantern was the first to take a cautious step inside, using his ring's powers to shield his senses, encasing himself in a bubble as if to protect himself from the sheer rot present. Flash was right behind the John, but almost immediately he was back outside again, the stench overwhelming the speedsters senses. He relieved himself of what little was in his stomach in the overgrown yard just outside before strengthening his resolve and stepping back inside. Tears welled in his eyes as he struggled to stomach the decay.
Sitting on the remains of what could have been once a couch, a young man in his early twenties sat watching as the two Justice Leaguers' entered his home, a blank look about his face. A woman came from the kitchen then, wearing nothing more than a worn, overly large t-shirt and a bath robe and slippers. Her hair was unkempt, and a lit cigarette hung limply from her lips. She gave the two men a questioning glance, before she spoke.
"Can I help you?" Her voice was raspy from years of smoking and disuse, her eyes bloodshot and suspicious. It was GL who spoke up, The Flash not trusting to open his mouth lest something come up.
"Ma'am, we're here on rumors of child abuse. Is there anyone else present in the… household?" John had to force the word from his mouth, all his instincts told him this was no house or home, but a rotting prison. The woman didn't seem to notice, however, as she eyed the two men again, giving them distrustful glares.
"It's just me and my two boys," she said at a length, taking a lazy drag from her cigarette.
"Two?" Green Lantern asked, looking to the young man on the couch. "Where is the second?"
"In the room," the woman glanced to a door down the hallway, moving slightly to obscure their view. "What are you gonna do?" She asked, not bothering to mask the distrust in her voice.
"Ma'am, just allow us to investigate the place," John was getting impatient with the woman, but more-so disgusted in being in the filth. "The sooner you cooperate, the sooner we can leave you be."
With an indifferent huff, the woman walked back into the kitchen, leaving the two men to their investigation. Green Lantern turned to his partner, noticing how uncomfortable Flash looked. The speedster was taking quick, shallow breaths, his complexion pale.
"You okay, buddy?" asked the ex-marine concerned. Flash only nodded, moving to get this over with. Green Lantern followed suit, turning to examine the decayed state of the kitchen. As with the front room, this room was just as neglected, with what he could only assume was fecal matter splattered on the counters and floor. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes, cockroaches climbing in and out of their fortress. The woman sat on a sagging chair at what he assumed was a table. He couldn't really tell underneath all the trash.
In the hallway, the Flash was slowly advancing to the closed door where the woman claimed her other son reside. He vainly tried to ignore the crunching under his boots as he took step after agonizing step farther into the slothful house. He finally reached the dirty door, which hung on its hinges, barely remaining closed. The Scarlet Speedster slowly and carefully opened the door, fearing the thing might fall off its hinges at the slightest touch.
Inside the room was dark, his eyes needing a few moments to adjust to the low light. There was a window, which was covered with a dirty blanket draped over it. There could be felt a slight breeze coming from the window, lifting the blanket slightly and stirring the rancid air around. Flash noticed that the corner of the window had been broken, the glass clearly discernible laying atop the garbage that littered the ground underneath, which formed a ramp-like pile up to the dirty and broken portal.
Flash turned his attention to the center of the room, and his breath hitched, causing his heart to stop in his chest. There lay a dirty mattress on the floor, and just from the stench alone, he could tell that it had been soiled many times. Springs tore through the dirty fabric in several places, jutting out in awkward angles. It wasn't the mattress itself that stopped Flash dead in his tracks, however, but what lay in the middle.
A boy of what could be guessed was the age of six lay unmoving in a fetal position. His eyes were wide and unfocused, seemingly staring right through Flash. The boy was emaciated, his collar and shoulder bones jutting out distinctly. Matted black hair was plastered to his head and a swollen diaper was the only noticeable article of clothing on his entire being. A pile of dirty diapers was now evident next to the bed, and cockroaches merrily swarmed everywhere, just as in the rest of the house.
Flash moved slowly, his eyes not leaving the boy for a second. As he neared, he could see bug bites riddling the boy's skin seemingly everywhere. His skin was dirty to the point it was near impossible to discern the natural color of it, and his much-too-small-diaper was swollen to the point of being useless as it leaked from the sides onto the bed, mixing with the old filth.
Moving carefully, the speedster gently touched the boy's shoulder, eliciting not so much as a blink. Stroking the boy's face softly, Flash's heart ached. The boy made no move to acknowledge the touch and continued to stare blankly ahead of him. Furrowing his brow in anger, Flash gently scooped the small boy into his arms, making up his mind that he wasn't going to leave that house with out the boy.
Green Lantern was kneeling in front of the older boy, trying to have a conversation with the young man. He had asked questions about his living conditions, but so far the boy couldn't give a seemingly intelligent answer. The mother had mentioned that he was mentally handicapped, and GL had to reluctantly take her word for it. As he stood, Flash came into the front room holding the small form of the boy in his arms. John was about to question his partner until he noticed the uncharacteristic expression of barely contained rage on the younger heroes face.
"We need to get this kid out of here," Wally stated to John, not caring to mask his tone of disgust. Just then the woman decided to emerge once again from the kitchen, eliciting a shriek upon seeing the boy in Flash's arms.
The heroes turned to the woman, who was now on her knees in a pleading fashion. The cigarette still hung from her lips, but her eyes were beginning to well with tears. Upon seeing the woman, Flash could barely keep himself from exploding at the 'mother'.
"Care to explain this boy's condition?" The Scarlet Speedster asked vehemently.
"Please," the woman was now sobbing, looking pitifully up to the hero. "I'm doing the best I can."
"The best you can sucks." Wally spat, turning on his heel to leave. He couldn't stand looking at the disgusting excuse of a mother any longer. Suddenly, the woman was on her feet and at Flash's side, trying in vain to hold onto the hero to prevent him from leaving. It took all of the speedster's self control not to toss her from his being.
"No! Don't take my baby!" She exclaimed in near hysterics. Green Lantern was trying futilely to pry the woman from Flash, but she clung desperately to the man's arm. Flash, however, fixed the woman with a slow, stern, and disgusted glare, remaining silent for several moments before speaking in a raspy, barely audible whisper.
"I've fought monsters and criminal master minds," he started slowly, unable to keep the anger from his voice. "And in all of my years, nothing that they have ever done has even compared to what you've done here." He glanced slightly to the frail boy in his arms before fixing the woman with his angered glare again. The accusation seemed to have been evident to the woman, as she began sobbing anew, even harder than previously.
With a sharp tug, Flash freed himself of the woman's grasp, once again exiting the house with Green Lantern right behind him. John had never seen the Flash so angry before, but upon seeing the boy in his arms, he couldn't honestly blame him. He himself had been enraged with the woman, and could only hope that they hadn't arrived too late.
As they made their way down the overgrown walkway, Flash looked to John.
"He needs to get to a hospital A.S.A.P." John nodded his head in agreement, and in the blink of an eye, the Flash was gone. John watched the place where Flash had just been standing the moment before, slowly contemplating the situation. A police car pulled into the driveway after being contacted by the Watchtower, and John snapped out of his reverie, slowly turning away.
"Godspeed, Flash. Godspeed."
A/N: This story idea came to me after reading an article from the St. Petersburg Times. The article is titled "The Girl in the Window". After reading it, I spent the next few days thinking and pondering, not able to wrap my mind around the neglect a mother could show her child. It's still mind boggling to me!
Anyway, after reading it and mulling over it for a while, I thought, what would a superhero do in a situation such as that? This story is the byproduct of said pondering, and some of the dialogue was taken from the St. Petersburg Times' article. I strongly urge those who haven't read the article to do so! It's very thought provoking, at least it made me think… a lot!
I'm not entirely pleased with this story, but writing it helped me with the tumultuous feelings and thoughts about our society and legal system, not to mention the many, many children out there that are still forgotten and neglected.
There may be future chapters to this story, but at the time being I'm not sure if I want to add to it. I hope this story at least piqued your curiosity, so please read and review! All criticism is welcomed.