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Chapter Seven: Questions and Ideas

Tony stopped by the closed door, and sighed. Something was so heavy in his chest that he couldn't shake it off. It seemed like the anxiety that had been building inside him since that afternoon was finally exploding with full force. Conflicting doubts prowled the genius head, making everything frantic and confusing. Tony had his suspicions, or rather, he had his certainties, all he needed was confirmation.

He bit his lower lip thinking and one second later, he was making his way to the lab.

"Friday, lock the door, I don't want to be interrupted." He said to the IA the moment he put his foot in the room, and sat on the leather chair. Tony looked over all the things he was working on Peter's suit, and grabbed the tightening wrench, playing with it.

"Friday..." He hesitated.

"Yes, sir?" The IA asked when he didn't say anything.

"What's the most common signs of child abuse?"

Of course Tony knew all the signs, being an abused kid himself, however, he didn't dare to think about when it came to Hope. Something about that was oddly painful. More painful than he expected now that he was alone. It was easier if Friday said it.

"As you well know, boss, There are several types of child abuse: Physical and / or emotional inattention in the care of the children, meaning deprive them of food, good hygienic conditions - sanitary conditions, necessary medical treatments, children out of school or with a high school dropout rate, allowing them to consume alcohol or drugs , indifference to their moods, being ignored, etc."

"Yes, yes I know that." Tony paused, and considered what he observed that day

Hope didn't seem to have a decent meal in days. When Peter offered her food, the girl looked at him pleadingly. Her dirty clothes indicated that the place she was in was not very hygienic, or that the people she lived with didn't care much about it. The girl's anemia and malnutrition were clear evidence of medical negligence and, finally, the girl's history included school dropout. Tony swallowed.

"Go on, Fri."

"There's the physical abuse, which implies submitting harmful substances to children, tying them up, arresting them, beating them, burning them, applying severe punishments, and so on."

Tony rubbed his hand down his face. He didn't have to think, the answer was obvious.

"There's also the emotional abuse: verbal abuse, children treated inappropriately, threatened, manipulated--"

"Friday, stop!" Tony said abruptly, he couldn't hear any more. He had the proof he wanted, and it disgusted him.

The billionaire felt sick. What would Hope have done to deserve such evil? Even the greatest malpractice did not deserve such punishment.

Tony got up from his chair, running his hands through his hair, trying to remain calm and lucid. He needed to calm down. He needed a shower. Tony hurriedly left the office, heading straight for his room floor.

During the bath, Tony tried, more calmly, to put together the pieces of the puzzle that was the girl, while also trying not to give space for his imagination to create the absurd scenarios that Hope could have faced. But at some point, the overwhelming feeling of despair took over. Tony knew that couldn't do this alone. Tony needed to talk to someone, or rather, he needed to talk to Pepper.

Still drying his wet hair, Tony sat on the bed and took out his cell phone, sighing tiredly. The phone rang one, then two before Pepper answered.

"Hi, honey? I don't need to tell you that's late, do I?" Pepper said, and Tony could feel the smile in her voice. God, he loved that woman. He closed his eyes, trying to enjoy the moment.