Cracks

Prologue

Cautiously he made his way down the hall of the rundown building. In here, the walls of each apartment were paper-thin, so the noises from behind each door were loud and obvious.

Behind door number one, an argument was taking place. In apartment two, a baby was screaming. The television in number five had an action movie playing and across the hall a dog was barking loudly.

The smell in the building was almost as bad and the paint on the walls of the corridors was already chipping off.

He sighed when he reached his destination. The door of the apartment on the second floor was slightly ajar and inside it was quiet.

Perhaps he was already too late.

Cautiously he entered the apartment, stepping over clothes and dirty plates strewn across the floor along with other random objects.

He ignored it. The mess hardly fazed him anymore. He looked around the room until his eyes landed on the bedroom door. Soft snores came from inside.

Carefully he peeked around the door. The man and the woman were both passed out on the bed. Empty bottles littered the bedroom floor. A syringe was still on the nightstand.

He scowled and retreated from the room. Nothing would ever change here. They would never change.

But he wasn't here for them.

A soft shuffling made him turn around. Amidst the chaos in the room, a five year old child walked to the coffee table. It didn't seem to have noticed him yet, too occupied with the crayons in its hand. Not affected at all by its surroundings.

The child calmly sat down and continued the drawing it had apparently started earlier.

He stared at it in wonder, this little piece of serenity in a sea of chaos.

Carefully, so he wouldn't startle the child, he sat down at the opposite end of the table, watching. "Wadcha drawing?" he asked.

"Benny," the child answered without thought.

He blinked. "Benny?" He didn't know anyone named Benny.

The child nodded. "From downstairs. Mrs. Johnson lets me pet him sometimes."

Ah. He glanced over his shoulder at the door. The barking of the dog was still faintly audible.

He looked at the child again and wondered when it had last eaten or seen a fresh set of clothes. Judging from the scene he had witnessed in the bedroom it could have been days. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

The child looked up at him with the most piercing blue eyes he had ever seen. He wondered how those eyes could still hold so much innocence. "There's cookies on the table," the child said seriously.

He sadly shook his head. "Cookies ain't food," he said.

The child frowned. "Are too. Cookies are for eating, so it's food. You're silly."

He couldn't help the small smile that quivered on his lips. Such a smartass this one. "Do you know who I am?" he asked the child instead. It didn't seem to find it odd that he was here and that was cause for alarm. How many strangers walked in and out of this place on a daily basis? What had they done?

The child looked up to him again with a thoughtful expression. "I've seen you before," was the conclusion.

He shook his head again, this time uncertain. What was he supposed to do? "Do you like lasagna?" he asked.

The child scrunched its nose. "Whats lazana?"

A smirk appeared on his face. "Lasagna is real food. Way better than cookies."

"Okay," the child perked up.

He smiled. "We need to go to my friend's place though."

"Okay," the child said again.

He looked at the child hesitantly. "You ain't afraid to come with me? I could be a bad person."

The child giggled. "You're not a bad person. You're nice. The other people weren't nice. They never talk to me. Only to momma and poppa."

"They don't hurt you, do they?" he now asked concerned. So he had been right. There had been others here.

The child shook its head. "They don't hurt me. They play with momma and poppa. But I'm not allowed to play."

He let out a relieved breath. Perhaps they had at least some sense of responsibility. Still, this was no environment for a child. "Well then," he said, "let's go get that lasagna then." He stood up and lifted the child in his arms. "Let's go, kiddo."

Without another glance at the bedroom door, he carried the child out of the apartment.

---

A/N Here it is, my new story. I hope you enjoy it.