Page 8 of Corruption
“Believe me, I found it hard to get used to as well,” I confessed.
Lightning briefly illuminated the sky, casting an eerie glow over the house and intensifying its foreboding atmosphere. I glanced around the sizeable entrance, watching Vince hand his jacket to a housemaid. The men who had accompanied us walked deeper into the house, not even acknowledging our presence. Vince smiled at me, gesturing for me to follow. My heart raced in my chest. I knew taking a chance by getting into his car was a gamble, but even if he intended to use my body or dismember me, it was preferable to returning home. Anything was better.
I trailed behind Vince, struggling to take in my surroundings. Gigantic paintings adorned the walls, the banister gleamed in gold and brown, and a lengthy carpet extended across the floor. Everything exuded grandeur, akin to stepping into a royal’s house. Vince continued to ascend the next flight of stairs, and my heart pounded harder. Was he truly going to use me? He had promised something better, but didn’t kidnappers typically lure children into their vans with the promise of puppies and ice cream? Had I truly lost my mind? Yet I continued to follow him, my breath quickening. He pointed to a door we passed by.
“My office. Don’t enter unless given permission. Understood?” Vince’s voice was firm.
I nodded, although he wasn’t looking at me when I responded. “Yes, sir.”
We walked down the seemingly endless hallway before finally halting in front of a door. Vince opened it, holding it ajar for me, but I hesitated to enter. My gaze shifted to Vince, who chuckled, well aware of my uncertainty. He stepped inside first, then turned to face me, arms outstretched.
“This is yours,” he assured me.
I poked my head into the room, taking in the lofty ceiling, the grand bed at the far end, the seating area in front of a fireplace, and a TV mounted above it. Shaking my head, I withdrew.
“No?” Vince questioned.
“Why would I have something so spacious? Is this yours?” I inquired, perplexed.
Vince shook his head, a smile gracing his lips as he casually placed his hands in his pockets. “No one will touch you from now on. I will make sure to teach you how to ensure no one can harm you again.”
“How? Why?” I asked.
“Boy, there are real monsters in this world. You know it. You lived with one,” he reminded me, causing me to cast my eyes downward. “And did anyone ever care what happened to you?”
“They didn’t—”
“Know? They always know,” he stated matter-of-factly, forcing me to confront a painful truth I’d long avoided. “The thing is, most don’t want to bother. People want to claim they’d gladly jump in front of a car to save an old lady, but few would actually make the leap. It’s to make themselves feel better. But they’ll never slay the monsters.”
“So they go free?” I whispered, thinking of a blond-haired tormentor who had not only made my life a living hell but had also evaded justice.
“No, because we won’t let them,” he asserted, making me lock eyes with him.
“So we’re the heroes?”
“No, boy, we are not. We are simply those who take action. Sometimes the world doesn’t need a hero,” he explained.
“What does it need, then?”
“Someone willing to do what the hero will never do,” he said firmly. “No one will admit it, not the everyday people on the street or the politicians promising us a better and brighter future. But in this real world, it’s not about being better or kinder to every person you meet because some are simply made of true darkness and will gladly exploit those around them. That’s where I come in.”
“I still don’t get it,” I admitted.
Vince regarded me not with pity but with an understanding that suggested he was well-acquainted with this confusion and sense of being lost.
“You will with time. It took me a while to grasp it too. To let go of what we were taught about not striking back. Believe me, sometimes hitting back is exactly what you should do,” he advised.
I wasn’t sure what to think or feel. My night had been more than overwhelming, pushing me close to the edge of despair. Yet here I stood before a stranger who claimed that the villains were the good guys? Nothing made sense at the moment, so instead of asking more questions, I took a tentative step inside, cautiously surveying my surroundings. Vince remained where he was, allowing me to take in the room. The space had dark walls, with small, strategically placed lights that provided enough illumination to navigate but left shadows lurking. The occasional flash of lightning through the covered windows cast Vince in an even more enigmatic light. The illumination played across his face, giving his white eye an almost lifelike appearance. Strangely, despite his ominous presence, I didn’t feel the same overwhelming fear. Could a stranger truly make me feel... safe? It was an unfamiliar word in my vocabulary, but I struggled to find a better way to describe my emotions.
“Is it… really mine?” I whispered, as though afraid to believe it could be true.
“It’s yours.” Vince’s voice carried a gentle authority, as if he wanted to assure me of the safety and refuge this room offered. Yet, I wasn’t naive. In a world like ours, there was always a cost, even if it wasn’t my body. “It locks.”
He pointed to the lock on the door, and I glanced at it behind me.
“It never stopped bad things from happening,” I whispered.
Vince sighed, shaking his head slightly. Then, to my surprise, he retrieved something from his inner pocket. Instinctively, I took a step back. When he revealed a black gun, I took another step back.
