Blind truths

Klara

So far, the afternoon was better than the sandwich I'd grabbed at the local store.

I was satisfied; the dressing down I had given to the school's director had been rather impressive. He had taken me to Marcus' class, and I had pressed the words rather stiffly. Harassment, and its consequences, would be filed up instantly at the police station.

A few teenagers had paled, and one tried to be a smartass. I had taken him away from his class, and my threats were now embedded into him. Another word and I would file a complaint for bullying. That people still reverted to this kind of behaviour in the 21st century appalled me; we were supposed to be educated, now ! Witch hunting in the 12th century, I could understand. But this madness, now ?

I shook my head, driving through the diminutive city center. I took a left, then a right, and found myself rather puzzled. There, on the side of the road, walked a blond child I knew well. Little Klara, officially five years old, was getting home on her own. ALONE ! Alone by the side of the road. My heart lurched, and I took a deep breath to refrain from choking on my own saliva.

I remembered Mr Jensen telling me he walked with the child often, especially when her parents were not available. And now that the guardien angel wasn't there, now that her child had accused a man of sexual assault, they still left her on her own. Anyone could literally stop and abduct her... and then, they wouldn't be shunning their friend. They would bury her clean and proper, with little flourish and a lot of make up to cover for...

Ugh ! I shivered in the car, and pulled aside to park. I watched, for a long time, that little blond head's progress. Her shoulders were slumped, her features tight. It was little wonder; she used to walk home with Lucas – her friend – and his funny dog. The one that barked whenever they talked about Kristen. Now, her support was gone, her parents probably a mess, and she had lost her only adult friend. Klara walked slowly, and I counted the minutes. Twelve. Twelves minutes before she reached the estate where her parent's home was. Plenty of time to snatch her, should any psycho pass by the village.

My blood was fucking boiling !

I parked in front of Klara's home, and took a few minutes to calm myself down. To think that this whole town had turned against an innocent to overlook the negligence of its own parents... a negligence that Lucas put up with, going out of his way – literally – to protect the girl. Damn... they were going to hear me, that's for sure !

I rang the door bell in a passable mood. A tall man with an unkempt beard opened; he seemed totally stunned. His uneasiness radiated in waves; stunned, and lost. Like a sock thrown in the washing machine, searching up and down. North from south. His little girl had been supposedly abused by his best friend, and his sadness permeated strongly. Betrayal as well. Curiously, there was no anger. Weird.

I forced a smile, and got invited inside; I needed to regain my bearing, and try to make them understand that it wasn't allright to leave Klara on her own at her age without biting their heads off. The man, Theo – what a lovely name – offered me a drink. He told me his wife would be back soon with his eldest. I took the chance offered to me with glee; people where more approachable alone. The scolding would have to wait.

- "You know why I am here"

A nod. The man wasn't a talker. It didn't matter, I had plenty to tell him. And he touched me, that tall guy with his brownish hair so tussled I couldn't find where his beard started and the rest ended. His blue eyes were heavy and pained, hidden, and I couldn't help but sympathise. We didn't exchange many sentences, but all of them were meaningful. I understood why he and Lucas got along so well...

- "Have you seen his dog ?", he eventually asked me.

I started.

- "Uh?"