Freeing Clara

11. The Darkness

The Scottsman heard his friend tell him the horrific truth. His worst nightmare had come true. His life had come to an absolute halt. It was though the world was fading, slowing down, speeding up, rewinding and then pausing. The confusion was making him sick to his stomach.

"I have hackers getting into webcams of every member of the cult. I have my guys paying a visit to every person who knew her rapist. Im getting updates on her father's bank account information in case he slips up. We are combing this city like it has lice. We will find her."

Flint's eyes had been red since he heard the news. Now, a few hours after the phone call, after closing the bar, Flint sits in the study of Cavenaugh's cliffside home.

"They are hurting her," he says. "They are probably destroying her. My sweet, sweet Clara is in pain. She is scared. She is without me. I cant wait to go through the city at a slow and steady pace," Flint says all of this in a calm cold tone. His voice sends a shiver up Callum's spine. The pain in his friend's voice was all too well known.

"Destroying it wont help find her either. We have to be smart about this."

"I should have just gone with her but she wanted to spend time with her friend. What the fuck was I thinking!"

Flint begins to pace the dim office. A fire was roaring in the fireplace, the curtains drawn blocking out any sun. In fact, Flint had not seen a single window open in Cavenaugh's home.

Callum remained calm, a drink in hand. He couldnt remember if he had asked for bourbon or scotch. He lifts the drink to his mouth and gets the scent of smoke. Scotch.

"They had to have taken her back to her parents. Right?" Flint says trying as though he was stating the obvious and they had somehow missed it.

Flint turns as though to leave but stops.

"No. They arent that stupid..."

Callum shrugs. "They brought sex trafficking into my city, I'd say they are pretty fucking stupid."

Flint's heart skips a beat.

"They wouldnt... they wouldnt sell her... right?"  He says almost out of breath. The words had taken everything in him from the thought to the formation of the words.

Callum was about to take a sip when he halts.

Callum slams his drink down and reaches for his phone that sat on his desk. He dials a number and brings the phone to his ear.

"Any containers going out need to be checked... I know you check them but they need to be searched more thoroughly. I want the airports watched as well... I want GPS on everyone's car... no not everyone in the city, everyone in the Sevonism cult, you idiot!"

He abruptly hangs up.

"I employ morons I guess," he mutters.

***

Clara awakens. Her eyes flutter open but all she sees is darkness. She is suddenly aware of the cold air piercing her skin. She shivers painfully.

She tries to remember how she got in this room. She questions where exactly she is. She questions the time and date. Scared to move because she is not sure what is around her.

Clara lays on her side. Her arms are in front of her, wrists together but not tide. She lays on something cold and hard. A floor? Concrete?

Her hand move hesitantly. She reaches to gain some support near her head. She feels uneasy, the hairs on the back of her neck stand. She has this sensation as though she is falling but knows she is still on the cold hard floor. Her hand presses down on concrete beside her face. A low groan comes from her. Pain soars in her arm, her head and neck. Her hand launches back to her stomach as she feels slight pain. Then she realizes that her stomach is bare. Clara raises her hand up her abdomen to find her hand grazing against her breasts. She lowers her hand and finds her underwear still on her. She exhales in relief.

She slowly leans over turning onto her back.  Another groan escapes her as she feels slight pain in her chest. She tells herself to be quiet.

A voice echoes in the distance. Its muffled but she knows the voice. Her heart begins to beat faster and faster as the voice grows closer. The sound of cracking makes her jump. A ray of light escapes an open door just a few feet ahead of her.

"Are you awake yet?" The voice was naisily almost, resembling nails on a chalkboard.

She had grown up with this man just down the street from her. She had seen him at church. She had seen him stare from afar. After church he would compliment the teen girls on their dresses and at times outside of church he would compliment them on more. He volunteered when it was time for her retribution. He made the case that he had been a part of her life since she was born and therefore should be the one to help her gain back her purity. The term he used made bile fill her throat. His name was William Colt.

William Colt was a 5'10 man in his late forties. He had slick black hair, was pale white, had dark eyes which were even darker due to his bushy black euebrows. His thin lips were almost insivible, blending into his sickly pale skin. He was fit but like that of a teenage boy not a man.

Clara feels faint once she sees him. Pain in her stomach causes her to groan and turn. Her eyes closing, her brain desperate to turn off. As she rests, her eyes closed, William Colt watches.

***

Flint's mind would not shut off. It had been 13 hours since she had gone missing. 13 hours of absolute pain. 13 hours of desperation. He had paced every inch of his bar. A glass always in hand. Sipping his old fashioned whiskey, his own brand. Listening to thr floors creak and the sound of rain hitting the sidewalk outside.

He needed to do something, anything. Was Cavenaugh even trying? Was there really men out looking for her? Did he have men checking the port or was that a ploy to get Flint to look the other way? So many questions and Flint felt like he was on barrowed time.

"Maybe its simple?" He begins to think.
"Maybe it was her father? Maybe he has her."

Or maybe its the band of creeps from the mall.

Flint pulls out his phone from his back pocket. He clicks on Carter's number. Carter doesnt answer.

"Fuck!" Flint curses.

"I thought there was no swearing in this bar?" The slightly british accent causes Flint to not be on such high alert, knowing exactly who it is.

Najeem leans against the bar waiting for Flint to somewhat respond.

"Its been 13 hours," Flint sighs.

"14 actually." Najeem corrects and points at the clock above the bar.

"You have to have faith-"

"In what?" Flint groans annoyed.

"In her! For God's sake! The girl has been to hell and back and then again... and that was like spring break for her. The girl grew up in a cult that believes raping women helps them. You think anything can break her?"

Flint takes in a deep breath. He didnt want to think about what could break her.

"I feel sorry for the people who are trying to break that strong young women because I know that she will give them hell. They got way more than they bargained for and on top of that... when they are found we will make them pay. These bastards have no idea what they have done to themselves."

Najeem's anger was a surprise to Flint. The man had been re-routing his opinions on the couple for a while. Najeem had been unsure of whether to protect his oldest and dearest friend or the young waitress who reminded him of his own daughter. Now he was dead set on where he stood. Flint felt a sense of confidence from his friend's words. He knew deep down that Clara was too strong for them to hurt her, too strong for them to break her, whoever they may be. Clara would give them hell. They'd pay time and time again. Soon these people would come to realize that they not only messed with the wrong Scottsman, they also messed with the wrong waitress.