A Matter Of Justice (Grey Justice #4)(81)
“Sorry the perverted bastard is dead? Um, no, nope, and nada. Am I sorry that I was the one to kill him? Oh, hell no.”
“You destroyed a great man.”
“Are you still that delusional? He turned children into killers. He abused you, tortured you, allowed others to abuse you, and you can still say that he was a great man?”
“His methods of child-rearing might have been unorthodox, but they were effective.”
“Child-rearing? He was a predator, a pedophile, and a killer. You should thank me for ending him.”
“Thank you for killing our father?”
“He wasn’t our father. He was a monster.”
“Think so?” He walked to a digital keypad attached to the wall and pressed a button. “Maybe you need some reminding of how great a man our father was.”
Five more screens appeared.
“Do you remember a television show a few years back called This Is Your Life?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t matter. Just thought it would help explain what’s about to happen. I’ve worked night and day getting these in just the right order. I do hope you appreciate my hard work.”
An image appeared on the first screen. The child was about Somer’s age, maybe a little younger. She had long, stringy dark hair and a sallow complexion. She was bone-thin, malnourished. Her gray eyes spoke volumes of abuse, neglect, and hopelessness.
“Recognize this beauty?”
She couldn’t look away if she tried. That damaged, lonely little girl still lived somewhere inside her.
“Amazing, isn’t it? What was once the very image of pitiful and disgusting is now one of the loveliest women in the world.”
As she continued to stare, photo after photo appeared. Most were of her in the same sad-looking green pants with yellow ducks and a dirty white T-shirt. She closed her eyes when several photos showed her wearing nothing at all.
Electricity shot through her body, and her eyes flew open. Dammit, the chair was hooked up to some kind of electrical current.
“That’s so rude. I’ve prepared all these memories for you. You must see each one. If you don’t, I’ll be crushed.”
“I know you’re a sick, twisted bastard, but child pornography is low even for you.”
“Oh my dear, this isn’t pornography. This is art. Hill Reed was a gifted artist, and you were one of his most perfect creations.”
She closed her eyes again, but remembered the shock and reopened them quickly.
Dark laughed. “You are a fast learner.” He glanced at another screen. “We’ll let those images remain and move on to other, more interesting things.”
All of the screens began to display images and video of her life at Hill House. The sound was turned off, so she was at least spared hearing the treacherous voice of her former teacher.
She hadn’t known he’d filmed their interactions. Yes, she had known that Reed had recorded some of her training. He had used the recordings on occasion to remind her of what would happen if she failed at a certain project he’d assigned her. The early ones were the most heartbreaking. They told the story of how a starving, neglected child had come to love her abuser. The bastard’s manipulative, mesmerizing voice had practically hypnotized her, enthralled her. The food and warmth he had provided had done the rest. His training had been insidious, seeping into her mind, her heart, her very soul. By the end of the first year after her “rescue,” she had been a willing participant in anything Hill Reed wanted from her.
Irelyn lost track of the time as the images played around her. She was so lost in the past, she wasn’t even sure Dark was still in the room. Memories assailed her, and even as she told herself to fight them, they swamped her as she relived each day, lesson, and event that created Reed’s perfect weapon. She could see, feel, taste everything. Affection, followed by mental, physical, and emotional abuse. Then, when he realized she had reached her limit, he would shower her with affection again. Special treats, toys, and clothes, anything a child could want. But she had sought his love and approval the most. Knowing he was disappointed in her was often more painful than physical punishments.
Sweet heavens, she had been so young and so damn malleable. To a child who had never known anything but hunger and pain, it had felt like rescue, like love. Her young mind had been the perfect training ground for Hill Reed’s evil manipulation.
She drew in a ragged breath. She tried several times to close her eyes, to block out the more painful moments. The shocks pulsing through her body prevented her from escaping.
The chair she was strapped to moved in slow circles. Not fast enough to make her dizzy, but it enabled her to see each screen as her life played out. It was painful, demoralizing, and sickening to watch. The pitiful child who only wanted love, the budding teenager who wanted approval. He had played her like a master, and she had grasped at every straw and morsel he would allow.
The perverted bastard had even recorded the first rape. She remembered being frozen in fear. She’d been thirteen years old, a child blooming into womanhood without any idea what that meant. Even as she’d known what he was doing to her wasn’t right, she had done nothing to stop him. Watching it now with adult eyes, she felt immense grief. The frightened child lay there, not knowing what to do, knowing what was being done to her was wrong, but still craving approval and warmth. That first time had hurt. She remembered the painful tearing, Reed’s heavy breaths and grunts.