Running with Rogues

CHAPTER 60 - AND IT GETS MESSIER

That was a lot of sadness in his voice. I had hoped killing Mason would help him get it straight in his head. It was easier to hate someone when you didn't have to look them in the eye and hear every manipulative word that came out of their mouth. Or so I'd thought, anyway.

"I'm really sorry," I told him. "That's really ... I mean, shit ... that must have been..."

"Bad," he finished for me. "Yeah. I guess it was."

He didn't stick around to watch Seth label the body. He just started wandering further down the line, probably to see who else he could identify. I trailed a few steps behind, keeping an eye on him, but it didn't really occur to me that he was looking for someone in particular. Not until he stopped beside another body and looked like he wanted to be sick. The tag simply read male, 50+ yo, fractures to the ulna, phalanges, ribs and skull.

"You know," I said softly, "this one doesn't have to be identified. Not if you don't want it to be."

He glanced up and seemed surprised to see me there. He'd been so lost in his thoughts. And I saw his forehead crease as he mulled it over. It was a long time before he shook his head. "The others deserve to know that he's dead. To get some closure or whatever."

I hardly even dared to breathe. "You think there were others?"

He managed to look at me then, if only for a split second. And then his eyes were back on the ground. "I know there were others."

Oh, Goddess. This was all such a mess. This entire pack was a mess. First, it was a few things slipping through the cracks. A few bruises here and there, a neglected kid or two, fighters with no idea what no meant...

Then it began to fester and escalate and go around in little, vicious circles. The idea of which behaviours were acceptable became steadily more skewed. And even those who knew better would start to look the other way. They'd think it was none of their business or convince themselves that they were imagining the warning signs.

And instead of helping kids like Liam - the vulnerable ones, the ones with nobody to tell - people had begun taking advantage. It was easy to see how even the slightest tolerance of shitty behaviour gave way to depravity. And now people were getting hurt, and they'd been getting hurt for a long time, and the thing that got me most of all was that ... like, none of it had necessary.

When Seth came over, Liam didn't hesitate to say, "This one here is Presley."

"Old Mr Presley?" Seth echoed, sounding dismayed. "He got me through my A-Levels. Poor man. I mean ... Goddess above. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? He was always on good terms with Mason."

Whether that registered with Liam, I had no idea, because he was in such a catatonic state by then. But one glance at the vacancy in his eyes convinced me that he couldn't stay here any longer. He wasn't really looking at anything, and it was a dead giveaway with him.

"Hey," I said softly. It took a tiny nudge of his arm before he jolted back to awareness, looking more than a little disorientated. "Do you need to leave?"

He looked at me so blankly that I got the impression that he hadn't processed the question properly, but I knew that was probably not the case. He just didn't know how to answer it. A few seconds of confused silence was enough to help me make up my mind.

"Yeah, okay," I said, "come on."

Liam followed me at first. He wouldn't stop looking back, though, and before long he stopped moving altogether.

I watched him go back to Seth. He didn't say much, but I didn't fail to notice the gesture at his grandparents, who were part of the crowd waiting so patiently to hear if their loved ones had been in the water. Maybe Liam had told them earlier, but then again, maybe not.