Suffer the Children 3 Over the next few weeks, Justin learned many things. He managed to not cry most of the time even though he was constantly taunted and physically abused. The showers were a nightmare and he timed his to avoid being thrown against the wall by one particular bully. His knees were constantly skinned and Sister Patience had lectured him several times on being more careful with his pants and shirts. No one else except Joan commented on why Justin's clothes were ripped so often. He didn't raise his hand in class and acted stupid when he was called on. Sister Connie had said she was disappointed but she didn't beat him up so he chose disappointing her over standing up to his classmates. Mrs. Scott had started ignoring him which he hated but figured was for the best. He chose swimming, a solitary activity he wasn't particularly good at, but at least he didn't get rejected doing lonely laps. He went everywhere alone, the directive to isolate him being effectively obeyed. He longed for a friend but no one came forward. Nick was okay when they were alone, but in public he was the first to pull Justin's curls or ridicule him until the tears made his eyes shine. At night, Justin prayed on his knees that the torture would stop, that he turn into someone people would like instead of hate and that God would give him a clue about just what it was that made him so hated. He knew he was a horrible person because every Sunday when the other boys got visits from their families and got to go out to the movies or dinner or ice cream, Justin sat wistfully looking out the window—alone. Even Nick's aunt came and he didn't even like her. Some Sundays, Justin would sit and in his childish scrawl, write a letter to his family begging someone to come. Sometimes he even got Joan to mail it but he never did get an answer. His only relief came when he went to Joan's office three times a week. It was there that the terrified child could be himself, voice his fears, and cry his tears. Joan would hold him safe as always and tell him that he was a good boy and that there was no reason for anyone to hate him. She felt like she was emptying the ocean with a teaspoon. But at least when he left, there was a small smile that hadn't been there before. Life had settled into a routine— a painful routine but a routine nonetheless. Until the day Chris remembered him. Justin had been wary of Chris since the very first day when he had seen him holding one of the younger boys up by his tie, his feet dangling, his hands scrabbling to dislodge Chris's  grip and let him breathe. The gang Chris led had simply laughed at the child and asked if he wanted to be a slave in return for his breath. A choked out yes had left him helpless on the floor, gasping to refill his lungs. Justin stared in mute horror until one of them noticed him. Then he dropped his eyes and scurried away, raucous laughter following him out the door. As he hurried to class today, a foot shot out and he went flying. Books and papers scattered. Justin lay sprawled on the tile floor. He got up quickly knowing there would be a new bruise tomorrow. He had learned not to look at the perpetrators as that just brought on more punishment. He simply started gathering his things, wondering what he would tell Mrs. Scott. He didn't even realize someone was talking to him until he felt his arm being grabbed and a face in his shouting, "Are you deaf?" He trembled as he recognized Chris and his boys, Joey and Kevin. "No," he whispered. He tried to go back to retrieving his things but Joey still gripped his arm. "Please, I'm late for class." "Please, I'm late for class," Kevin mimicked and Chris smiled evilly. Chris's eyes glittered and Justin was as scared as he had ever been. Chris came and stood over Justin who was still kneeling on the floor, "Hey, pretty boy, what's your name again?" "Justin... Justin Timberlake," he forced out. He was frozen, the look in Chris's eyes terrifying. He knew it. He had seen it in Paul's eyes on occasion. It was power, pure and simple. Chris knew he had total power over this child and was savoring it. Justin couldn't hold back the tears any longer and they rolled silently down his cheeks. "Well, well, sweetie," Chris grinned and reached to touch Justin's face. When Justin pulled back, the grin disappeared and he backhanded the child with such force that he knocked him right out of Joey's grip. Justin lay on his back. Waiting. Then they were gone. He lay there for another minute, letting his breath even out but when he heard footsteps, he scrambled to his feet, gathered his things, and took off. Mrs. Scott looked but chose not to see, announced his detention, and ignored him as usual. He rubbed his face where he knew there had to be a handprint and shrank as far into his seat as possible. He mind drifted off, a habit that he had picked up here as an escape from his unbearable reality. He daydreamed that Joan would adopt him, take care of him. That she would protect him. That she would bake him cookies and help with his homework. That she would tuck him in and kiss him good night. That she would be proud of him, that he would make her proud. He always felt loved in these daydreams even though he knew it was just a dream. He shuffled down the hall later. He had missed his appointment with Joan because of detention but Chris had really scared him and he needed her. He hoped she wasn't busy. He slipped into her office and waited quietly for Mary to notice him. When she finally looked up, her smile of greeting swiftly changed into a frown when she saw the red mark on Justin's cheek. She called to Joan before going over to the miserable child. Joan started to chide Justin for his lateness but stopped short when she saw the future bruise and the trembling figure. She motioned him into the office and she took him silently onto her lap. He rested his head on her and soon she heard the hitching sobs start. She buried her face in his curls, her own tears starting for the pain this child had. They rocked as usual until the sounds stopped and he was breathing normally. She slid him onto the sofa even as he resisted and she studied the bruise. "What happened?" Whispering as if he were afraid that they would overhear, he said in a rush, "Chris and his friends tripped me in the hall and then I got scared and then he hit me and then they left." Joan sighed. If she punished Chris or even spoke to him, Justin would bear the brunt of it. Chris was so damaged. He was one of the boys who lived up to his reputation and she had never been able to appeal to his good qualities if there were any that hadn't been driven out of him. She had hoped that Justin, like Nick, would not be noticed but that angelic face seemed to incite violence. Her options were limited and Justin's even less so. "Listen, baby, try to stay out of his way if you can. He's an angry boy and he does that to you and the others because he doesn't know what else to do." "But I didn't try to get in his way," Justin protested, " I was on my way to class." "But you were alone in the hall." "I'm always alone, Joan. Take me home with you?" his sad little voice pleaded. Softly she responded, "Justin, you know I can't , you still have parents. What you want is impossible." "But my parents don't want me. No one wants me," he wailed. The truth of his statement broke her heart. "I want you," she said simply and watched his eyes widen in amazement. "Really truly?" he said, a small shred of hope in his voice that maybe he wasn't totally unlovable. "Really truly, sweetie." He smiled, the shy smile that was so endearing. It was enough to carry both of them through another day. More weeks passed. He went to her office every day and began not to pay attention to the names the other boys called him. He got his cookies and help with his homework.  He started doing well in class again and lived for the praise that Joan showered on him. He still had to tuck himself in and there was no goodnight kiss but at least things were looking up. One Sunday Joan even took him to the zoo and bought him hot dogs and ice cream and he felt almost normal. He hadn't had any run-ins with Chris and his gang since that day and the memory had started to fade. He was heading to the pool when he heard loud kissing sounds behind him and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He didn't turn, just walked faster but in seconds someone grabbed his arm roughly and spun him around. His heart sank when he saw Chris, Joey, and Kevin. Chris smirked and made a kissy face complete with a loud smooching sound. Justin blushed and the three boys laughed. "Have you missed us, Justin?" "Not really," the small boy answered innocently. "Well, we've missed you and we think it would be a good idea if other people missed you as well." With that, Joey started to drag Justin down the hall. Justin started to protest loudly but a hard fist to the chin nearly knocked him out and he fell silent. When he realized they were heading to the basement, he fought wildly. He hated basements— they were dirty, and smelly and worst of all, dark. Justin hated the dark. Joey picked the smaller child up and threw him over his shoulder, ignoring Justin's feeble pounding. Heading down the stairs, Joey felt Justin's body tense and he knew that Chris had chosen well. At the bottom, he dropped Justin to the floor. Justin's breathing was ragged and his eyes darted around fearfully. The three boys stood in a ring over him, that look of power clear on Chris's face. Rope appeared and Justin stared at it fascinated, even as they used it to tie his hands and feet. Tears fell unchecked and his hitching sobs got louder. A rag was stuffed in his mouth and tied in place. He wanted to vomit but fought the urge. "So, Justin, when do you think anyone will look for you? How long can you last down here alone?" Chris mocked. Then Kevin scooped him up and his worst fear was realized when he was dropped on the floor of an unused mop closet. It was dark even with the door open. "Bye, Justin. You'd better hope that someone even notices you're gone." With that the door closed and the last light disappeared. He heard their voices grow fainter and then there was silence. Justin was terrified. Only Joan would care or even miss him. How long would he have to stay here, scared and alone?  Maybe they would never find him. Maybe he would die here. He trembled at the thought and tugged at the bonds which were tight. He only managed to chafe his wrists so that the pain was approaching intolerable. He gave up. He thought about praying but God wasn't too keen on helping Justin out. Whatever happiness he had felt in the last month had just been a cruel tease so that he could end up like this.  They were heavy thoughts for a little boy, a testament to the emotional pain he endured every day, forcing him to grow up too fast. Despite his fear, despite his uncertainty, his baby eyes closed and he fell into a fitful sleep. Upstairs was controlled chaos. The entire staff was out looking for Justin. Joan had raised the alarm after Justin hadn't appeared in her office and when she tracked Nick down, he said he hadn't seen him since lunch. She was near panic knowing that Justin wouldn't deliberately disappear without telling her why. But where was he? She saw Chris and his friends leaning on the wall outside, laughing and rough housing. It was worth a shot she thought. "Chris, can I talk to you?" she asked crossing to them. Chris narrowed his eyes but nodded, "What, Joan?" "I know Justin has had some run-ins with you. He's disappeared though and I was wondering if you had any idea where he went?" She tried to make it non-accusing but was pretty much unsuccessful. He shrugged and shook his head, "Sorry." "Yeah, thanks. Um, if you have any ideas let me know, OK?" she said as a last shot. She knew they were involved but wasn't sure to what extent. It didn't matter right now anyway. It only mattered that they find him. She went back to the search. His eyes opened to blackness and he whimpered behind the gag. He had to pee really badly. How long had he been here? Was anyone even looking for him? The urge to pee was becoming overwhelming and finally he couldn't stop the warm stream. He blushed in the dark, his wet uniform pants clinging to his legs. What would he tell Sister Patience? Why didn't anybody come? He lay on his side and closed his eyes again but this time he heard noises in the blackness like small animals, mice or worse, rats. The hysteria started to take over and he yelled into the gag even though he knew the muffled sound wouldn't leave the closet. Finally, he stopped  and the tears started again. He cried himself to sleep a second time. Joan bit her lips in frustration. It had been six hours and the search had petered out, only a few of the staff halfheartedly checking empty rooms. She and James were the only ones left who were really making any effort at all. The rest assumed he would turn up like they always did when whoever was responsible released the latest victim. James put a hand on her shoulder, "Let's take a break for a minute." "No, I can't. He's such a baby. He must be so frightened." Tears started and she let herself be comforted on James's shoulder. He moved them toward his office. Once inside, he lowered her into a chair and went to get them some coffee. Joan sat unmoving. "Where are you, Justin?" she wanted to scream. She closed her eyes. She opened them when she felt the warm cup in her hands. "Thanks," she said gratefully. Fifteen minutes later, they were back to the search. The next time Justin woke, his stomach was growling and he could barely swallow, his throat painfully dry. His eyes hurt from straining to see in the darkness.  His arms and legs hurt from the cramped position he was in.  "Joan, please find me," he whispered in his head, "I'm so scared." More time passed before he heard faint noises that grew louder. Doors slammed and he could hear footsteps. Hope flared. And then the footsteps receded. "No!" He struggled to get close enough to the door to kick it but it was too late. There was silence again. Fresh tears came. Why hadn't anyone opened this door? Another hour had passed. James took a breath, "Joan, we have to stop. We're going in circles and it's just the two of us." "No. Even if I have to do this alone. I cannot leave him all alone overnight." James sighed, "OK, but we need a plan. I'm sure we keep opening and closing the same doors. Deal?" "Yes. Thanks," Joan said and then hesitated. She hadn't told James about the older boys but she needed to confide now, sure they were responsible. She started slowly and winced when she realized how disappointed he was that she had kept this from him. She finished up, "I spoke to Chris but he wouldn't come clean. Where would he put him?" "Who knows? There are so many places in this nightmare palace. Let's just start on one floor and work our way up or down." "Fine. Let's start with the basement. I know they checked but I have no good feelings about the thoroughness of the search." James nodded and minutes later, they were downstairs, a dimly lit hall leading to the boiler room. Doors lined both sides. They were systematically checking each one. "Have you checked this door?" Joan asked. James shook his head and wearily Joan opened it, expecting nothing again. Instead she gasped as she saw the little huddled ball on the floor. "Justin," she cried falling to her knees next to him. She pulled the gag off quickly and her heart nearly stopped when he whispered, "Mommy, you came." She had no time to wonder what he meant just then as she was concentrating on getting the ropes loose. He gasped when she pulled too hard but when she hesitated, he urged her to continue. Finally the last knot came undone and he was free. Before she could loosen the bonds on his ankles, he threw his arms around her and held on tight. She stroked his back as he cried out his fear. At last, she said, "C'mon, baby. Let me untie your feet. I want Sister Clotilde to look at your wrists." Still sniffling, he leaned back and let her free him and help him to his feet. "I wet my pants," he said in a small, cracked voice. Joan brushed his curls, "It's OK. You were there for a long time. You were very brave." She knew his fear of the dark and could imagine his terror during those long hours. She wanted to ask him who did it but thought perhaps it would be better to wait until he had recovered a little. Sister Clotilde was an elderly nun with nursing experience. She was matter of fact as she dressed the rope burns on his wrists and ankles. She had learned long ago not to ask too many questions. Especially if you really didn't want to know what went on within these walls. Joan asked if Justin could spend the night in the infirmary where she could sit up with him. The nun agreed and offered to sit with Justin while Joan got him some pajamas and clean clothes for the morning. She also wanted to let Nick know that Justin was safe. She knocked quietly since it was past lights out. Nick answered, sounding awake and teary. She pushed the door open until the hall lights cast some illumination on Nick's face. His chubby cheeks were streaked with tears. "What is it, Nick?" "I told Chris...I told him that Justin was afraid of the dark. I bet they put him someplace dark and scary." He hung his head, unable to meet Joan's gaze. She wanted to yell at him, to ask him why he would do that to Justin— to the child who tried so hard to be liked. But looking at his sad little expression, she knew why. He was afraid that if it wasn't Justin, it would be him. The horrible truth is he was right. She sat down next to him and put her arm around his trembling shoulders. " Sssh. You were scared, weren't you?" He nodded. What else could she say? That it was all right to throw a more helpless child to the wolves? That the cruelty in this hell was incomprehensible and he was only a small part? That .... There was nothing more to say. She kissed the top of his head and tucked him into his bed. "We found Justin. He's spending the night in the infirmary."  Nick gave her a tiny smile. She gathered Justin's things and kissed Nick again before shutting the door quietly. She was lost in thought on her way back. Perhaps she should call the Harlesses and ask them to transfer Justin to another facility. " How would that be different?" she asked herself scornfully. The other homes in the area weren't any better. St. Catherine's got their transfers. Maybe she could convince them to take him back. That was unlikely. The last letter she had mailed for Justin came back marked RETURN TO SENDER.  Besides she couldn't let him go. She had gotten so attached she wondered how healthy their relationship was. But at those times of questioning, she looked at him laughing in her office or running to her excitedly with an A and she no longer cared. Waiting. He was sitting on the chair with wide eyes, waiting. She handed him his clothes and he changed quickly, not at all embarrassed. Then he folded every piece of clothing, even his stained ones, neatly and made a little pile. She shook her head. Behavior shaping— the boys were routinely forced to strip and expose themselves until their innate modesty was forced out. On the other hand, their inborn messiness was replaced by an obsessive neatness reinforced by beatings when they slipped. Right now, Justin was anxious because he didn't know where to put his clothing. He held them and looked around until she was sure he would burst into tears. "Give them to me, Sweetie," she said taking them from him exchanging his belongings for his toothbrush and paste. She shoved the pile under her chair and watched him get ready for bed. He knelt for his prayers and she heard him whisper, "Thank you, God, that Joan found me. Someday could you let her be my mommy?  I would be really, really good. Please?" She wasn't sure if she was meant to hear that or not but his innocent face when he hopped up onto the narrow cot, made her think she wasn't. Tears came to her eyes but she forced them back. She wanted to be strong for him. He cocked his curly head and asked, "Why are you sad?" Very softly, she said, "It makes me sad to see anybody hurt you. You don't deserve any of this. You're such a good boy." It made her happy to see the sweet smile as he snuggled down under the blankets. "I love you," he said shyly. continue menu