Page 433 of Eternal
I go straight for the closet. Inside, shelves, boxes, a locked cabinet I force open with the butt of my knife.
Albums, cassette tapes, folders.
I opened one, the first photo’s blurry, like someone didn’t want to be seen, a man in a suit, a girl, maybe twelve, the backdrop is this room, that same bed.
I opened another album, I don’t get through three pages before bile hits the back of my throat.
They documented everything.
Kids, teens, girls, boys, some of them were terrified, others were clearly drugged. Men with badges, men I recognize, a judge, a congressman, a man I once saw shaking hands with the president on live TV.
I clutch the edge of the shelf and breathe through my nose.
Don’t vomit. Not now.
They kept trophies, they kept proof, here, right here in this fucking room.
I snap photos, hands shaking, but I get them, every page, every name tag, every face, I record everything. I’ll burn the albums after if I have to, but now I need them.
Because this isn’t simple proof, it’s criminal, at the highest level, and it’s still happening.
I press my hand against the wall, forcing myself to stand.
There’s more, there has to be more, and I’m not leaving without it.
My phone vibrates against my thigh once, but hard, it almost makes me drop the album.
I pull it out, thumb the screen, a string of texts from Damir fills the lock screen.
Damir
Where are you?
Damir
Partner.
Damir
It’s almost 9. Are you okay?
Damir
Are you already inside?
I open the thread, my fingers hesitate, then tap out a reply:
Me
Almost done. I’ll explain everything when I see you. Promise.
Three dots show up immediately.
Damir
Okay. I have your location. I’m almost here to pick you up.
My chest does something strange, pulls tight, warm, I almost text something dumb back, ‘okay love you,’but I don’t have the time.
