Arron and Trexx

Chapter 66

TRIGGER WARNING IT INVOLVES A VERY SMALL CHILD

Third person pov

They'd arrived at the home to see Skronk wrapped around the neck of the same man Arron had intimidated into leaving before. The long, shadowy being constricted around him, and Ino winced at the ungodly shade of purple the man's face was turning. Arron didn't even bat an eye as she walked past the struggling man. Ino winced again.

"A-Ah, maybe don't... kill him." Ino advised, unsure if Skronk was listening, or if he could even understand what she was saying. "I don't think Shikamaru would be too pleased if he found out Arron was being charged with murder..."

Arron entered the home quietly, glancing around as she always did in search of dangers. She knew this place was safe, especially with Skronk on duty, but she couldn't much help herself. Faintly, she could hear crying coming from a back room. It was the loud kind that told Arron something terrible had happened. She grimaced, fists clenching with white-knuckled rage. Safe. They had to be safe.

"House." Arron dropped the folder on Miss Himiko's desk. The older woman was startled to say the least, jolting slightly in surprise. Arron couldn't help but notice the bags under her eyes, and the tired slouch in her shoulders. The dark-haired girl glanced down at the many papers. She'd been working their tight budget, from what she could tell. Had this woman slept?

"Wh-What is this?" The woman sputtered as Arron began to gather the rent papers and such, tossing them in the trash without a second thought. Trexx sat contently behind her, face pressed onto the ground, humming. Ino stepped into the entryway right as the beast sat up, leaving a shiny, clean circle where his face had been. Ino stared. She knew Trexx could do dishes, but now he was a floor buffer? She was beginning to think he was more industrial cleaner than he was shadow-being.

"House." Arron repeated simply, glancing at the stairwell when she heard another cry. Miss Himiko seemed accustomed to the sounds, but Ino still winced.

"Who was that?" Ino asked. "Is everything okay?"

"It's a new woman and her baby. Something... happened. We're going to need to get the authorities involved if she's willing." Miss Himiko said tiredly, eyes scanning over the contents of the folder. She froze. "What is this, dear?"

"House." Arron supplied once more.

"O-Oh, Arron comes inherited a... lot of money from her clan, so she bought the house for you." Ino didn't think Arron would be explaining, and Trexx was too busy buffering the floor to make any sun-related comments. Miss Himiko froze. "You don't have to worry about rent anymore."

Miss Himiko began to shift through the papers more frantically, disbelief clear on her face. Arron glanced at the clock on the wall. Noon already? The line at the courthouse had been longer than she thought. Or maybe it was the bank. They had taken quite a while to process her request for 'a lot' of money. Speaking of money, she needed to find out how to hire someone to fix the roof. She wasn't positive, but she was quite sure it was damaged. Not that she knew much about houses.

"Yours now." Arron allowed easily, starting towards the stairs. Trexx shuffled after her, still humming, face still shoved into the floor. Ino stared blankly at the clean and oddly-polished streak he left in his wake. "I'm going to go check on them."

"Good luck." Ino waved, deciding it best to stay with Miss Himiko while she processed. Arron was sensitive... sometimes. Some social cues flew over her head completely. It was understandable. Arron was reintegrating into society rather fast for someone who went through what she did. Sure, it had been months, but just now was she starting to leave the house and meet people.

Arron climbed the stairs, and an eerie feeling settled over her. Like a dark veil that only got heavier as she climbed the stairs. Mildly, she realized that it was fear. It was a different kind. It was no a fear of the unknown, or of what could happen, or rather of what she was about to see.

The hallway was dark, the floorboards creak loudly under her light feet. Her heart is thudding faster, though she doesn't know why. It's just a hallway, and she's never had any notable experiences in them other than the usual. Maybe a slap here, or a shove into a wall there. But nothing that would seriously traumatize her. Is it the wails at the end of the hall that get her?

The door is cracked open, so she lightly nudges it. All the women are crowded into the small space, standing around a bed as though mourning. In the bed a women she doesn't recognize sits, her face every shade of purple and blue, with brown and yellow tinging at the edges. Arron feels something sour twist at her gut when she realizes the woman is holding a child.

Outwardly, the child looks quite alright. He's sitting in his mothers lap, clearly alive, though something catches Arron's attention when their eyes meet. His blue orbs are wide with a horror he'll never be able to describe. She can practically see the pictures that must flash behind his eyelids anytime he dares to close them. Btu there are no tears. No, there are never tears right after. They come after.

Arron's eyes trail down to the kid's shorts. They're messed up. Unbuttoned. His shirt is ripped somewhat, and there are bruises around his wrists. Arron feels sick. The boy is only four. He's only four, and he's sitting there with that look. The one she wears. The one she sees when she looks in the mirror. She wants to scream. 

"Who... the fuck did this?" She finds herself asking instead. Curse words are not something she was unfamiliar with, though she was somewhat aware that they weren't acceptable. But with her rage rising, the foul language seemed scarily necessary. The boy simply stares at her, unable to recall, and unable to tell, yet knowing exactly who. He remembers all of it. She knows. She remembers too.

"A-Arron." It's Kiki, the woman from the day before. Arron looks at her and sees the look. The pity, and terror, and the pain. The evidence of what had happened to the boy. Of what had happened to her. Arron's eyes return to the boy. They are one in the same. They both knew. Behind her, Trexx is silent. He isn't humming, but looming. He knows too. He can feel it. He knows the look. He sees it on Arron too often not to recognize it.

"M-My sweet boy!" The woman wails. She's in pain. Her arm is swollen. Broken, maybe? She hugs her child close anyway. She cradles him with love and warmth Arron didn't know until just recently, and the girl is glad for that. "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Who?" Arron repeats, her voice icy. 

One of the women seems hesitant, but they answer. Arron's tone is too demanding to ignore. "The husband. He... He came home from work angry, she said, and-"

Arron doesn't need to hear anymore. Her fists clench. She can remember that feeling. The feeling of hands bigger and stronger than your own, clamping down on your wrists. They tighten, hot and sweaty in the worst way. They burn. They burn the worse. Being immobilized is the worst part. That dread that settles over you when you realize you aren't getting out. She knows the boy went through it. She wont let him feel that again.

"Address." She looks at each of the women. One of them has to know. The shadows curling up behind her tell her she'll get her answer. "Now."