*TW This chapter contains subject matter that some readers may find disturbing or difficult to read such as: mentions of pedophilia, rape, self-harm, physical abuse, sexual abuse, and incest. Reader's discretion is advised. If you or someone you know is dealing with the issues presented in this story, please contact the Suicide Prevention Hotline (998), or the National Sexual Assault Hotline at (1-800-656-4673)*

Chapter 52: Wolves in Sheep's Clothing

"Mama! Mama! I'm home!"

Her cheeks hurt from grinning so wide. Dumping her bookbag on the kitchen table, she charges up the stairs two at a time. Once at the top, she barrels down the hall.

"Mrs. Wagner gave me a sticker for my art project! Can you believe it?!" she exclaims as she wobbles a giant sheet of parchment paper over her head, "She says she's gonna hang it in...in the..."

She trails off the moment she explodes into her parent's room.

It's pitch-black save for a dimly-lit crimson candle on the nightstand...it smells of pine needles, mahogany, and something vaguely metallic. Guttural, animalistic grunts and pants emanate from the creaking bed. The air is humid and reeks of heavy sweat and secrets. She makes out two figures in the bed. She recognizes the first as her father due to the bushy brown mustache, and stout, potato-like frame. At first, she assumes the second is her mother because who else could it be? But then she catches a flash of platinum-blonde hair, and her world shatters.

Hysterical gasps overtake her. The figures bolt upright, and she thinks she hears the husky whisper of a naughty word as the paper falls out of her hand. She stumbles backwards in shock and primal confusion.

She sprints out of the room.


Hours later, he finds her sulking underneath the dining room table.

After masterfully coaxing her out of her hiding spot, he kneels and takes hold of her shoulders, "Red...Red baby, you need to tell me the Honest-to-God truth, alright?"

She nods.

"What did you see in there?"

"Nothing I-"

SLAP!

She screams as a trickle of blood slides down her cheek. Her father winces. He grabs a tissue off the table and starts blotting her marred face with it.

"Shit," he curses. He gives a light-hearted chuckle, as if it were only an innocent accident instead of an atrocious act on his daughter, "Didn't...didn't mean to hit you that hard, sweetie. But you swore you'd tell the truth...don't you know lyin' is a sin?"

She can't answer. She's still reeling from the blow as well as the emotional whiplash she'd just received. Her little six-year-old brain can't comprehend how someone could go from hitting their child to tending their wounds in the fraction of a second.

"I asked you a question," his eyes flash, "You do know lyin' is a sin, right?"

"Yes,"

"Yes, what?"

"Yes sir,"

"Good...that's good. I'll ask you again, Red," his voice is seemingly cold and emotionless, but she catches a notable hitch of anxiety in its tone, "What did you see in there?"

"I...I don't know," she stuffs a fist in her mouth, "I saw you and-and a lady...kissing?"

He wheezes, "Yeah baby, that's what we were doin'"

Her father gives her the bloodstained tissue, and instructs her to keep applying pressure to her cheek. There's a pregnant pause...the only sound is the sniffling of a heartbroken girl as tears start pouring from her eyes.

"Does mama know?" she can't stop herself from asking.

"No, she doesn't,"

"But I thought you said lying was a sin,"

"It is. But this ain't lyin'," her father says, "It's a secret. You know what a secret is?"

She nods.

"What is it?"

"You keep something from a...a...friend?"

"You're close," he admits as he runs his fingers through his hair, "It's when... you keep a piece of information from someone to protect them," when he sees her look of befuddlement, he sighs, "Fuck Red... the truth is, your mama and I haven't gotten on in a long, long, time. The spark we had, it's gone and nothing that can be done about it. It fizzled out when you were...when you...look, Terri makes me feel something. Something I haven't felt in a good long while,"

"Love?" she guesses.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he says. He brings her closer to whisper in her ear. Her nose scrunches up from the stench of fireball whisky on his breath, "Listen, I'm gonna come clean to your mama...but in my own time. I need you to promise to keep this between us, okay? She can't know about this yet- scratch that, no one can know about this. Just go about as normal, and pretend like you never even saw it; like it was a bad dream. Do you understand me?"

She nods again.

"I don't think you do, Red," he starts removing his belt, "Let me give you a taste of what'll happen if you don't do what I say,"


"Oh...oh no," Jiminy's eyes brimmed with tears, "No, don't tell me he...he..."

"No. He gave me the belt that time," Scarlett said in a flat tone. Then, she ran her hands down her face with a withering, exhausted sigh, "My dad...was an enigma. He'd often chew me out for being a mistake, beat me till I turned black and blue, tell me mama was stupid for not getting the abortion while she still could. But...at the same time, he'd make me meals, drive me to school, spoil me with gifts and toys, call me 'Red'... sent a lot of mixed messages to my young mind, you know? Did he hold a grudge for my being born and forcing him to age quicker? Or did he love me deep down? He left shortly after mama learned the truth. Then, things got better after the divorce and my mama came into the picture,"

"Wasn't your mother already in the picture?"

"Sorry," Scarlett shrugged as she drew her knees into her chest, "I meant my other mama."

Jiminy's eyes grew wide with understanding, "Oh, I see now...what is she like?"

"She's the most amazing woman I've ever met," she said without hesitation, "Well, other than my biological mother of course. They're complete opposites: Mom #1 tough as nails and willing to chop any guy's dick off at the drop of a hat, and Mom #2 a real-life Disney princess cottage-core gay. But when you see them together, it's clear they love each other more than anything. Mom #2 is the one who taught me how to draw, and it became my biggest escape. She also liked to garden and while I never understood her love of plants, the flowers added some much-needed color to our little apartment,"

"So it sounds like other than that small hiccup with your father, you had a fairly stable childhood,"

Scar rubbed her arm and glanced away, "I wouldn't say it was a hiccup,"

"What do you mean?"

But she once again hesitated...

"Would you like to stop?"

"No, I'm okay,"

"Because if you'd like to stop for today, it's alright," Jiminy insisted, "I don't want to push you,"

"I feel like if I don't get this over with, I'll never work up the courage again to spit it out already," Scarlett squeezed her hands and looked up at him, "I just need to hype myself up first, that's all,"

"Scarlett," he hopped onto her shoulder and gave it a comforting pat, "You don't have to do anything if you aren't ready. It's perfectly fine if you need to take a moment to yourself before getting into the really heavy stuff,"

She considered it, but then gave a resolute shake of her head.

"Okay," Jiminy surmised as he sat down, "But I cannot emphasize this enough. If you need to take a break, if you feel the need to stop at any time, do not hesitate to do so,"

Scarlett shut her eyes, and began in a quavering voice, "It happened when I was walking home with some friends from mass at St. Mary's Catholic Church..."


They decide to make a pit stop in an overpass beneath the highway on the outskirts of the forest. The mist sets an eerie, foreboding vibe, it's overgrown, abandoned, and stinks of rotted crows-food and urine. Obnoxious shouting, bragging about their body counts, talking trash about their classmates, and smoking cigarettes.

It isn't until one of the girls breaks out a bottle of stolen communion wine, that she confesses she's still a virgin during a game of Never Have I Ever. The others snort with laughter.

She takes a swig of wine in her shot glass.

She'd only lowered it for a second, but that'd been all the time he'd needed to slip in the sedative. Less than five minutes later, her eyes roll backwards as she topples to the ground. Her warped sound hears her friends laughing good-naturedly and asking if she's alright. Her words start to slur, and she fades in and out of consciousness.

She catches snippets of dialogue: "Shut ## up...#%### $#$$### hysterical," "Enough $#^ %## ####...pay up," "#$ promised. Now, ## $### home, ya'll," then, her world blurs together in fuzzy seas of grey, white, and black.


She's brought to by someone stroking her hair, "Wakey, wakey Sleepin' Beauty,"

Her mind is a fog of voices and vague memories. The last thing she remembers is her friends...her friends-FIENDS. Bastards. Monsters. Demons...the shot glass toppling to a grassy floor...A swell of hot rage tremors in her chest. Before she can even begin to process the weight of their betrayal, her eyes ease open, and a new sense of horror overwhelms her.

"D-dad?"

He tilts his head with an amicable toothy grin, "Hey there, Red,"

There's this prominent glint in his eyes. She can't tell if it's a glint of amusement, lechery, love, maliciousness, or possibly even melancholy? All she knows, is that the look sends prickles of dread inching up her chest all the way up to her neck.

"What's the matter, Red?" he asks with a rumbling chuckle, "Didn't you miss your dear old dad? I missed you. Couldn't stand to go a single day without you after the divorce, so I had to stick it to those courthouse bitches for taking you away from me. They had their heads so far up their asses, that-that they couldn't see just how capable I was of taking care of you! Of protecting my family-you! Of protecting you from f #%$ like that whore of a mother you have,"

She tries sitting up, but something restrains her. She pants as she comes to the realization that she's huddled inside of a cage.

"Oh yeah, that," her father scoots away from her, and settles on the floor with a weary sigh, "Nothing personal, heh...couldn't have you runnin' off. You understand, right? There's no reason for you to wanna hide from me, Red. There really isn't. I'd never hurt a hair on your pretty little head,"

Her brain flashes between different instances where her father got a little too rough horseplaying in the backyard, pushed a little too hard on the swings, or when he'd sometimes kiss her on the mouth a little too long for comfort.

"We understand each other...don't we, Scarlett?" it's the first time he's ever used her name, and she nearly throws up at the way he'd said it, "It suddenly clicked in my brain... you know? A real 'Ah ha!' moment. As if God himself came down from the Heavens, grabbed me by the shoulders, and told me we were kindred spirits. Soulmates, Red. I realized you were the only good thing I've ever had going on. The one thing I got right. And I don't ever wanna give that up. Not now, not ever,"

She begins to sob as those unflinching, tender eyes meet hers.

"I love you, Scarlett," her sobs turn to wails of anguish and feral panic. He also starts to cry as an unhinged laugh escapes his lips. He reaches through the bars to press his forehead against hers, "I know it's a lot to take in. But it's okay. It's okay to cry, darlin'. All that matters is that we're together now. Everything's gonna be alright. And no one is ever gonna take you away from me, again. I promise,"

He ignores her muffled screech of protest as his lips come crashing into hers.


"You can connect the rest of the dots from there. I was held captive for three, godless weeks. I wasn't allowed to leave the cage without my dad glued to my side while eating, and I couldn't even go to the bathroom with the door shut. I was reduced to a mere plaything, a pet. I-"

Scarlett's throat went tight all of a sudden.

So tight she had to physically strain her next words out, "-I didn't even feel human anymore. During...during 'Playtime' as he called it, I tried just...staring at the cracks in the ceiling and making up little characters or funny shapes. I developed stories around them, and focused on those to distract myself from the excruciating pain. It worked for a while, until he asked me what I was so captivated by. I explained what I was doing, and went into vivid detail about each of the characters and scenarios I saw; as casual as though we were discussing the clouds in the sky. He bought me art supplies, and let me draw and paint my fantasies on the ceiling,"

"Why would he do that?" Jiminy asked.

"He thought it would make my imprisonment easier," she huffed, "Not like that made any difference. It was still Hell-on-Earth regardless of how pretty the ceiling was. He also thought it would warm me up to him, which ended up being his one weak spot. One night, I picked the lock of my cage with one of the pens he'd given me, and escaped. I still remember how malnourished and frail my body was after being huddled in there for so long. It hurt to even stand. Still, I managed to slip out the front door, crawl through the muddy ditches to the nearest house, and call the police,"

"You brave, brave girl," the conscience sniffled, "And what happened next?"

"He got arrested, but the trial lasted a good four months or so," Scarlett said, "He was eventually sentenced to life in prison, and that was the end of it. At first, I wished he'd gotten the death penalty, but then I realized that I wanted him to rot for what he'd done. I wanted him to spend the rest of his miserable, worthless life feeling as trapped, powerless, and dehumanized as I was when he'd kept me captive..."

"But I have no doubt that if he had the option to go back, he'd do it all again. That's why, I can never feel truly satisfied with the way things ended up. By that point, the damage had already been done. He'd taken everything from me. My humanity, my dignity, my innocence, my freedom...my virginity," Scarlett swallowed the lump in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes, "That's why I didn't bother going to counseling. I felt like I was too broken to be put back together again. The old me was gone, and no amount of therapy, pills, or trips to psyche wards was ever gonna change that. Instead, I resolved to gather tools to defend myself so that next time, I wouldn't even give my kidnappers a chance...heh...you've seen how well that turned out,"

"Ooh yeah," Jiminy winced, "But you need to give yourself more credit. You were lost and confused in a strange new place. Not to mention shrunk down to the size of a mouse. It wasn't your fault,"

"Seven years of martial arts training says otherwise," Before the cricket could protest, she continued, "You wanna know what the worst part of all is? Even though I knew what he was doing to me was wrong, some twisted part of my naïve childish brain thought if I went along with it. If I did every single little thing he said, he would realize on his own he was hurting me...but that never happened. Instead, it just sped up the process of my inevitable traumatization..."

Scarlett sucked in a breath as the tears streamed down her reddened cheeks.

"To this day, I still ask myself if-if there was something I could've done to prevent it all from even happening. I could've hung out with better friends instead of ones who'd sell me on the spot. I should've never drunk from that shot glass that started this whole mess. If-if I was smarter o-or braver or...or..."

She couldn't finish as she started to weep.

Jiminy didn't miss a beat. He hopped up and started wiping her eyes with a clean handkerchief. In response, Scarlett buried her head in her knees. Abashed, the cricket sat down and rubbed tiny circles into her shoulder.

A few beats of silence passed. The void filled only by the girl's muffled sobs.

"Scarlett..." Jiminy finally spoke, "What you did to get yourself out of that nightmarish situation, was incredibly courageous and I need you to acknowledge that. And no matter what your brain is telling you, you need to know it wasn't your fault,"

"But I-"

"-No," he cut her off in a firmer tone, "Look at me,"

She sniffed before glancing up. Her eyes misted over with now an open vulnerability, and Jiminy found himself stunned speechless at the sight. This was not the same Scarlett Bloom he'd been acquainted with for the past few days. In that one look, all Jiminy saw was a frightened child on the brink of collapse. Desperate for answers. Desperate for escape. Desperate for relief.

"It. Was. Not. Your. Fault," the conscience repeated, "Are you a fortune teller? What? Do ya have a crystal ball or scrying bowl you've failed to share with the rest of us? Unless you're a fate or witch in disguise, don't expect me to believe it was a possibility for you to look into the future and stop this from happening to you. There's no way you could've known those-those-"

Jiminy's face suddenly hardened into a scowl, and he snapped his clipboard in half. Scarlett gasped. His jaw dropped at what he'd done, and hastily tossed the pieces aside. He seemed to debate with himself a few seconds before coming to a decision, "Pardon my potty mouth; those jackass kids and your jackass of a father did to you..."

Scar couldn't help but laugh as his cheeks flushed bright pink.

Jiminy cleared his throat. His expression then softened into one of sympathy, "I know it's hard for you to accept...but you know me. I always try my darndest to tell the Honest-to-Walt truth. Do you really think I'd stoop so low as to lie to you about your feelings, Scar?"

She opened her mouth to argue...then shook her head.

"The brain naturally tries to find logical solutions to all sorts of scenarios," Jiminy resumed, "Even the impossible ones. And even if there was a way to travel back in time and stop it, there's no guarantee you'd have come out the other side as the wonderful human being you are today. If you keep ruminating on the past, if you keep analyzing every possible outcome, if you keep blaming yourself for what happened, then your father wins. You'll never heal and move forward with your life. And the more you tell yourself it was your fault, the more the mind will start to believe it. Before you know it, you'll start to believe it too,"

"I already believe it, so it's a little too late to do anything about it,"

"No, it's not," he insisted, "You just have to change that cognitive distortion. The lie that says you could have done something...and I'm gonna help you,"

Scarlett tilted her head, "How?"

"Well, the first step is to identify and acknowledge you're having these thoughts to begin with," Jiminy's lips formed into a light-hearted smile, "But don't worry. That's the easy part,"

The next half-hour consisted of the little conscience handing her a sheet of notebook paper and a pen from one of the bookshelves. He then instructed her to write a detailed list of ANTS (Automatic Negative Thoughts) she often had.

They ranged from mild to severe to downright concerning: "I should've been paying more attention to my surroundings," "I shouldn't've hung out with those people in the first place," "I should have never been born," "I was a mistake," "I'm too damaged to deserve real love or happiness," "I'm such a dumbass," "Why am I so stupid?" "I deserved every bad thing that ever happened to me," "Why am I even alive?"

When she had finished, Jiminy looked them over with her and gave her examples of how to reframe the thoughts into something uplifting and motivational. "I was a mistake," turned into "My existence is a gift to be cherished," "Why am I so stupid?" became "I'm stupid sometimes, but not all of the time," and "I shouldn't've hung out with those people in the first place," transfigured into "I am not a mind-reader. There was no way I could've known that they were plotting to drug me,".

When they'd gotten through half of the list, Jiminy looked at the time and yawned.

"It's getting quite late in the day, and none of us have had lunch let alone dinner yet," he pointed out, "We should check on how the others are doing, and see if Mindy's back from training. Why don't you try doing the rest of them on your own a little later, okay?"

Scarlett nodded as she scooped Jiminy into her hands.

"Hey, I'm woman enough to admit when I'm wrong about something, and I was wrong about you," Jiminy gaped when she kissed the top of his head, "Thanks for taking the time to therapize me. Turns out, I needed it. More than I realized, actually. You really did have my best interests at heart,"

"You're very welcome, and I'm glad I was able to help," he said while wringing his hands, "I told ya I wasn't your enemy,"

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world,"