Page 58 of Taken
Blinking, Trenton shook his head. "He raped them. Raped all of them."
"It was a dream. Only a dream. You're home. We're safe." Ben's hand brushed the hair back from Trenton's face as he knelt beside the bed.
Trenton tried to calm his breathing. Tried to slow his pulse. It wasn't real. It had been a dream. The problem was, due to his job, he'd seen so many videos of children being abused that it was like his mind had an endless loop of children to remember. The screams hadn't been from his dream. They'd been from his memories. Children he'd found and helped the team save, but in doing so, he'd had to watch their abuse to save the evidence they would leave behind for the police. This wasn't a dream. It was his mind remembering everything.
"Want me to get you some water?" Ben asked softly.
Trenton shook his head. "Don't go." He didn't want to close his eyes again and fade back into the dream.
"Okay, I won't leave you. Do you want to talk about it?"
Trenton shook his head. He'd never share what he saw in his head with anyone. No one needed to have those images in their mind. "Just sit next to me for a while." He moved over so there was room for Ben to sit on the edge of his bed.
The bed dipped as Ben sat down beside him. "You were dreaming about the kids?"
"Remembering them. All the ones we'd saved as a team, but this time I couldn't save them." He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "He had me tied up, making me watch."
"Who was he?" Ben asked.
Trenton shivered, running his hands up and down his arms as he debated if he was really going to share this with Ben. If he was going to do this, he couldn't look at Ben as he did. His eyes, his expression, all of it would give too much away. Besides, he didn't want to see the pity on Ben's face. He rolled to his side, his back to Ben. "My father."
He heard the shocked intake of breath, then a gentle hand was back to caressing his arm.
"Did your father abuse you?" The question was almost a whisper.
"Not me physically, but others. He'd make me and my brother watch. Sometimes help." Trenton curled his arms around himself. "He was the high priest of a fucked up cult. They tortured and sacrificed children to their gods. Members' own children were saved from the torture, but they always brought other children in who had been kidnapped or sometimes bought." He closed his eyes, needing to get this out. He'd said enough already that he might as well finish. "Parents were in charge of everything. As kids, we didn't have permission to decide anything on our own. They decided what we wore, what we ate, when we were allowed to use the bathroom. We were raised to think we did only what we were told. A good child always obeyed, no matter what was asked of them." He focused on the warmth of Ben's hand on his arm. "Fathers were in charge. Mothers were for breeding and housework only. The female kids were married to male members as they got older. The traditions are passed on from father to son, mother to daughter. You were raised knowing that someday you'd stand in your father's place and do the same things he did in praise to the gods. We were all brainwashed, but it was all we knew. We were homeschooled, never allowed around other kids. Seldom even allowed into town to interact with others. The adults, at least the men, they held normal jobs, lived normal lives to anyone watching, but behind closed doors, they were anything but normal."
Ben's hand stilled. "How did you get out?"
"One day there was a raid on the place. My parents were both killed. My brother and I were taken to a foster home and they tried to force us to testify against others. The thing was, we'd been trained to do nothing without permission. We had to be told to dress, to eat, to sleep, what to wear, when to get up and move from the living room to the kitchen. We didn't know how to be normal. It was harder on my brother because he was younger, but even I had trouble adapting to life outside of the cult."
"Did you testify against them?" Ben asked.
Trenton shook his head. "I was too scared. I'd seen them kill other kids, and while I was older than the kids they usually killed, I'd seen them kill other members' kids for acting out, for not obeying and following orders. I was sure they'd kill me or my brother if we said anything." He took a deep breath. "My father used to make us help him kill the babies they'd get. He'd take and make us hold the dagger over their throat. We were too young to be strong enough to do it alone, so my father would wrap his hands around ours and push the dagger in. We'd be forced to repeat the words the adults said, all in training so we could take over someday. Every member of the cult got a tattoo on their eighth birthday. A dagger on their right shoulder blade." He leaned forward so Ben could see it.
Ben's fingers found the small tattoo and traced it softly. "You never covered it up?"
"I thought about it, but it was a reminder of why I did what I did with the team. A reminder of where I came from and why I could never forget. Maybe a reminder so I wouldn't forget all the kids I'd helped to torture or kill."
"You were a child who had been raised to think it was normal. You didn't know different. You can't blame yourself for anything you did."
"But I do. Even then, even though I didn't know different, in my gut it was wrong. It felt wrong. My heart knew it wasn't right."
Ben bent down and kissed Trenton's shoulder softly. "It wasn't your fault. None of it."
"Hold me," Trenton said the words without thinking too much about them. He just needed to feel someone close. To know he wasn't alone.
The bed shifted as Ben stood, then dipped again as he eased down behind Trenton and wrapped his arms around his body, splaying one hand across his chest.
"This okay?" Ben's breath was warm against his shoulder.
"Yeah, thanks." Trenton closed his eyes. He only wore underwear, but Ben was in sweatpants and a t-shirt. There was nothing sexual about them at the moment, but it was intimate. Trenton let himself enjoy the closeness, the simpleness. "After the raid, my brother and I were kept at the hospital for a long time. Most of the kids were. We went through a lot of counseling and programs to help us learn new ways, but it was hard. As I said, even after we got to foster care, we were afraid to do anything without being told to. Even picking our own clothes to wear in the morning was impossible at first. We knew we'd be punished if we didn't wear what we were told. I'm sure the foster families thought we were crazy, but at least they were decent to us. It could have been a lot worse had we ended up with abusive foster parents as well."
"What happened after that?" Ben asked.
"My brother and I floated around the foster care system until I turned eighteen. By then, I was somewhat normal and functioning as a typical person, only I'd withdrawn to sit behind my computer all the time. I was learning to hack, and I was good at it. I never really used my skills for bad, but I loved hacking into systems just to see what was there. I never stole information or transferred money. I just spied. I got a job with a small company working with system security, fought to get custody of my brother, and did my best to give us both a somewhat normal life." Trenton covered Ben's hand with his own against his chest and moved tighter into his embrace. "A few years later, Bryon contacted me. He was looking for his sister. His hacker had hacked me after seeing a digital trail that I'd left following updates about old cult members. He thought I might have information to help him find out if his sister was being held by any of the old members the raid had failed to pick up. I couldn't help him, but a friendship was forged. He introduced me to Carter, and I was part of the team. Carter had skills I could only dream of, and he trained me, teaching me everything he knew."
"And you've done that since?" Ben asked.
