Once inside they were able to calm the girl down, but even
when she stopped screaming she continued to shake violently.
Marie had wandered off to the lost and found to find some
clothes for the girl while Amanda had led her to the locker room just off the
small gymnasium. Once inside Amanda had
the young woman sit on one of the bare wooden benches.
“Do you have a name?”
Amanda sat next to her, making sure to give the girl enough personal
space.
She pulled the blanket around her tighter, clinging to it so
tightly her knucles turned white.
“I need to call you something.” Amanda kept her voice soft. This poor girl looked like a terrified
rabbit, ready to spring at any moment.
“Hey girl probably isn’t the best way to address someone.”
“Debbie.” The girl’s
voice was a whisper. She sounded weak,
worn out and it looked like speaking caused her pain. “My name is… Debbie.”
“Debbie. A very
pretty name.” Amanda smiled, inching
closer. “Debbie, I’m going to start the
shower for you, and then leave you be.
You need to clean up. You’ve got
some pretty nasty cuts on you, and we don’t want them to get infected. Joanna, she works her with me, she’ll be here
in a little while. She’s a nurse. She’ll look you over, and make sure there
isn’t any serious damage. Okay?”
Debbie just nodded.
Amanda stood up and headed towards one of the shower stalls. She leaned in, turning on the water and
running her hands under the weak stream.
The gymnasium and the locker room both needed a lot of work, but work
cost money, and money was in short supply.
It drove Amanda nuts that her and Matt had to beg and plead
for funds to keep the Youth Center open, even though it was the only place that
seemed to be helping any of the kids in Wheaton. Especially after… after Felicia died, and
Wheaton Prep was bought by that damn church.
Amanda froze when she heard the sound of shuffling feet
approaching her from behind. She turned
her head slowly to see Debbie standing at the edge of the tiled floor that led
into the shower room. She was naked, and
the sight of her body made Amanda choke back a scream.
On her stomach, etched into the very flesh, were strange
patterns. Twisting and turning vines,
the cuts old and scarred, crisscrossed up her ribs, and over her belly, down
the front of her body, vanishing into the thatch of pubic hair nestled between
her legs.
Debbie was watching Amanda, and then glanced down, seeming
to see the markings for the first time herself.
“What did they do to me?” Her hands gently touched the
scarred tissue. “What did those bastards
do to me?”
Debbie’s knees buckled, and Amanda had to move quickly to
scoop her up, holding the poor girl close as she broke into a fit of sobs.
Where had she come from?
Who would do something like that?
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