Alex's Tears Chapter 5: Truth from the hostage.
AN: Sorry for the long wait, I'm only writing this one when inspired. Not completely happy with this - so please review. Like always, thanks for reading.
The psychologist sighed as she listened to the boys recorded statement again. Once he was rescued the eldest of the hostage children had been very uncooperative; in fact he walked out of her sessions and refused to come back. Worse the boy's mother, a multimillionaire supported him in this. She had no choice but to let him go – it wasn't like this mother could afford her son's medical fees. But it would make dealing with her main patient so much more difficult without the bystanders information. She sighed again as she tried to pull her thoughts together and stop procrastinating. She turned on the video.
The teens face that had been staring at her with the serious eyes that all the hostages gained started talking, his voice low and grim.
"It changed my life those few days in the dark. The never ending, full of creatures and noises and monsters and darkness." He laughed humour absent from his voice – PTSD for certain she thought.
"It was hell, but in a way its showed me the truth. It stripped my illusions away, stripped my ego and my hopes down until it was just my mind and the darkness and them. The captors. The ones that left us alone in the dark for days until they opened the door and light spilled in and they took him."
Interesting, she thought, the captors usually would have kept them separated, after all, Rider wasn't there for ransom, from what (little) briefing she had been given she was surprised that they had made any connection with Rider at all. He had refused to attend her sessions after the disastrous attempt at group therapy. His employer insisting hadn't changed a thing, in fact, she suspected, it made the problem worse.
"The terrible thing was, at the time, we didn't notice he was gone for at least an hour. We were being stupid, and hopeful about the light, and selfishly remembering how good the light was, we didn't think to check if anyone was missing or what they had wanted. We were all so stupid.
An Hour to notice one person was missing in a single room! He hadn't talked much, just warned us to be careful and not do anything to annoying the captors. We all ignored him at the time, as if he had any right to tell us what to do.
It was only later that we realised that, yes, he did."
One of the only useful pieces of information she had gained from the sessions was the way the other kids looked up to the blond teen and that the older children always placed themselves and the younger kids. The the blond ignored them (if she was a better observer she might have saw that he checked their positions constantly that his bored gaze tracked their direction – that the spy did care). She thought that they respect Rider because of what he wet through (she was wrong they trusted him because of what he did for them in those dark days). One the younger girls claimed before her brother shushed her that it was because "he looked after us". She discounted this, it was only a kid.
"They took him. I'll never be able to forgive myself for not noticing that he had been hurt by them. Hurt bad." The boy on the recording took a deep shaky breath as Psychologist watched he was obviously remembering a traumatic time.
"I changed in that place underground, my priorities, my opinions, my attitude. Even people who weren't especially close to me have noticed and commented on it. I have heard the rumours that I went insane in the dark, that it messed with my head and that's why I don't enjoy life so much and why I don't join in with my friends messing around. I disagree. I think I simply grow up and grew old in a few days."
"I was the one in the small group who tried to help him in the dark. Who tried to make sure he ate and drank some of what was given to us, who tried to clean his wounds, who tried to talk with him. He was being tortured. What for I couldn't guess but it was important. Because otherwise he would have told them before they broke both his hands to avoid the agony that every movement caused him. And I know he cared about us, the rest of the kids so he tried to hide it, to not show weakness. Because when we were taken he fought like a demon taking several of them down but when they pulled the gun and held it against one of the little kids heads he stopped immediately.
We owe him for what he did there. But I will never be the same. Because I can't trust that around the corner that they won't be there, that another friend won't betray me and end up hurting me.
It took weeks in the dark to stop us believe that someone – anyone - was coming for us, that the nightmare could end. In the end it was him that got us out not the police not the army not the government.I can't trust them again and to be honest I don't want to. So no, I don't wish to talk about my feelings to you. I'm sorry but you don't understand" the boy shook his head "I can't help you." The recording finished and the psychologist sat there drained staring at the screen.
Maybe she should just leave trying to help Rider to tomorrow. Or maybe she should do the right thing and turn around to her employers and tell them the truth.
"I can't help you."