7: The Pandora's Box

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TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF CHILD TRAFFICKING, SEXUAL ASSAULT.

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF CHILD TRAFFICKING, SEXUAL ASSAULT

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"Than thou believest, tombs are freighted"

- Canto 9, Dante's Inferno, Dante Aligheiri

Lunaire's POV:

Snowflakes dance along with the wintry breeze, grey clouds shadowing the sun. Boot-deep in the blizzard, I take in the magnificent infrastructure.

A snowflake lands on my glove-clad hand, then another. A brume of fog surrounds me as I exhale. The silence perturbs, seeping into my bones.

The raven, empty serpent-like road ahead of me leads to the heart of London.

'Purgatory' the burnt, almost collapsing neon sign of the ruined infrastructure screams. The grey glow of the snow amplifies the dystopian premonition of what had once been a theme park slash drug cartel.

Purgatory was famous for its themed toys, rides, and entertainment before the news of it being an underground sex trafficking ring broke out.

The P of the sign is distorted, almost looking like a failed attempt to draw a snake, the T resembling a cross. I let out a cough, my eyes stuck on the "Crime scene, do not enter tapes."

The entertainers of this particular theme park were mostly children. It claimed to be a charity and fundraiser for orphan children, who were secretly sold to the rich of the world. Mostly pedophiles.

I let out a shaky breath, my stomach curling. This place lived up to its name.

I clutch the drive in my pocket, hoping to find any evidence that would be able to get the pakhan off my back.

Boots squeaking against the snow, I walk over to the entrance. The burnt, distorted biblical figures stare into my eyes, almost looking demonic.

The shadowed daylight makes them appear more haunted. The screams and agonies of children were embedded into each wall of this place. Goosebumps arise along my skin as I slowly walk inside.

The sharp stench of burning plastic hit my senses as I nod at the policemen loitering around the gate. I hand them the pass Tasha emailed me this morning, giving them a small smile.

"Manchester student eh? Go in."

I nod, taking my pass back. Leaves and remnants of plastic crunch under my boots. I take in the burnt fragments of what had once been a bustling park.

The roof had fallen apart, allowing a streak of light to enter. Snow falls in the centre. It is a round structure, what had once been a stage is now only a grey and umber dais. I daintily touch one of the bent pillars, running my fingers over the posters.

Pictures of children in angel costumes and some grown people playing the devil.

Something coils in my chest. Something dark and grotesque. Each of these children were abused in the worst ways imaginable.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐍 [18+] (#0.5)✔️Where stories live. Discover now