Warning: This part contains rape. Please proceed with caution.
Part Four
Frank Harris had just stepped out of his car, when he noticed an unknown car parked in front of his house. Shrugging, he walked up the sidewalk and entered his house. Two strangers were there, interrogating his wife and son.
One had the sleeve of Xander’s shirt pulled up, revealing angry red and purple bruises. “Look, no, they’re from gym,” said Xander worriedly. “Nothing important. I…” he glanced toward the door and saw his dad.
“What are you doing to my son?” Frank Harris asked coldly.
“We received information that your son was being abused,” said the one who had been inspecting the boy’s arm.
“Well, he’s not. Now get out,” the man growled.
The two strangers looked at each other, then left.
The elder Harris turned to the younger, who was now cowering on the couch. “Who were you talking to? I’m not abusing you. But I can, if that’s what you really want,” said the older man evilly.
“I-I didn’t tell anyone anything!” said the boy frantically. He looked around for his mother, but she was gone.
Frank grabbed Xander’s arm and wrenched him to his feet. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“I didn’t say anything! There was this new librarian. He made me stay behind and talked to me. But that was it! He didn’t see anything…” Xander’s pleas died out as he watched a look come over his father’s face. “…no…”
“This is Jenkins, we’ve got a problem. The father showed up,” said one of the social workers into his cell phone.
“We’re sending a squad car down,” came from the other end of the line.
“I just hope he doesn’t kill that boy.”
“We can only hope,” said the female social worker.
Xander struggled as his father shoved him to the floor, ripping the boy’s pants down at the same time. One large hand was used to keep him against the carpet, while his father took care of his own pants. Stilling, Xander resigned himself to his fate.
Frank Harris stared at the now still form of his son before thrusting savaging into the boy with no preparation, causing Xander to howl in pain.
“Shit! Where are those cops?” asked Jenkins. His partner stared horrified at the house the muffled screams were eminating from. “Sharon, are you okay?”
“God, Dan, how people do that to their own children?” she asked sadly. “Sometimes it’s too much for me.”
“I know, but we’re going to help this one,” said Jenkins firmly.
A police car cruised up. The officer rolled down his window. “What’s the trouble?” He heard the screams. “Is that…”
“A boy is being beaten in there,” confirmed Jenkins as the screams died down.
The officer jumped out of his car and strode up to the Harris residence, calling for backup on his radio. He pounded on the door, “This is the police. Open up!”
A drunken woman opened the door. The officer moved through the doorway and into the living room. The sight there stopped him cold. A man was thrusting savaging into a sobbing boy. He quickly moved up and tried to pull the man off the boy, but he was shoved away and nearly fell into the wall. Sirens filled the air as the backup arrived. Several officers entered the house and were able to pull the elder Harris away from his son.
As he was being cuffed and read his rights, the two social workers went to Xander. “Are you okay?” asked Jenkins.
“…gone?...” asked Xander shakily.
“Yes, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore,” said Sharon Yates soothingly. “Is there anyone you need to call?”
“…Iam…”
“You are what?” asked Yates encouragingly.
“…Iam…Giles…” Xander tried to clarify.
“I think Iam is the name of his friend,” whispered Jenkins. He then addressed Xander, “We’ll get a hold of your friend for you. Do you have his phone number?”
“…no…uncle’s the…librarian…school…” Xander curled into a fetal position, trying to close out the rest of the world.
“He’s withdrawing,” said Yates. “You call the school, find out how we can get a hold of the librarian.”