A. H. Wong

Prologue

 

JANUARY 18th, 2014

NEW BODY FOUND; PEDOPHILE DEATH TOLL RISING

 

This weekend saw the loss of yet another soul. Adam Booker, age 25, was found hanging from a tree by a pair of young partygoers. They had been taking a short cut on their way home, and came across the grisly scene.

“I-I….I don’t want to admit this happened. I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it,” Jamie Ellen told the group. “I don’t want to admit I saw a dead body.”

 

OCTOBER 16TH, 2013

PEDOPHILE PRIEST FOUND DEAD

 

Shocking news came from Barrie, Ontario this weekend. A preacher named Jacob Smith was found murdered in his home, castrated and stabbed multiple times. He was the latest victim of the pedophile murders that have been spanning the nation.

 

Most police officers declined an interview with local media. However, the Chief of Police did release a statement: “I don’t how I should feel. Yes, these are men being killed. But, they are pedophiles. Shouldn’t that mean that they deserved death?”

 

His statement is rapidly being spread worldwide, as the public cannot believe it. A resident of Barrie stated much the same, however, adding: “He just said what we were all thinking. I just can’t believe it happened here, to us.”

 

This resident was not the only one shocked, as were it not for the confession the late preacher left on his laptop, police would have been at a loss for finding any form of motive.

 

This confession, however, provided more than enough motives for authorities.

 

According to the document left open on his laptop, preacher Jacob Smith had been raping his son for the past five years.

 

His son, Nolan, turns nine this Thursday.

 

~

 

SEPTEMBER 29th, 2013

PEDOPHILE KILLINGS LEAD TO FEAR

 

No leads have yet been found on the pedophile killing spree. Despite almost every police force being actively on the case, there is no real suspect. The pedophile killings are ‘too mastermindedly done’ to have any visible connection, other than the exact same MO in each killing.

 

“Whoever, or whatever, is doing this is brilliant. They are eternally well-organized, and never leave a single trace. They’re in and out before we know what happened.” The Police Chief stated yesterday, when he was attempting to explain to the public why there were no leads.

 

“It almost seems like he’s admiring these…these people,” a worried onlooker was overheard saying. “He’s complimenting murderers. No matter how it’s done, it’s still murder.”

 

~

 

 

AUGUST 17th, 2013

CHURCH REFUSES TO PRAY FOR SOULS OF PEDOPHILE KILLERS

 

In an interview yesterday, preacher Jacob Smith stated that his church would never be involved in the prayers for the souls of the pedophile killers. This shocked many of his followers, as more than a few of them had already decided to pray for the souls of the killers. When asked why, those offering prayers invariably replied that ‘some crimes are worth killing to stop’.

 

~

 

Beatrix' Diary

January 21st, 2000

 

Dear Diary,

I’m SIIIIXXXX!!!!

 

I’m so happy, diary! I’m so so so so so so happy! Daddy said he’ll get me a pony, a teddy bear, and a doll!!! Daddy’s such a good daddy!

 

I just wish Daddy didn’t make me lick his lollipop for the toys…

 

But, it’s okay! I know it makes Daddy happy.

 

I’ll do anything for Daddy if he asks me to!

 

But….I don’t know if he’ll do everything for me.

 

Diary, I’m sore again v.v he hurt my lady parts and I dunno how to fix em. He pwomised he’d be gentler wiff me, but he wasn’t gentler. He still hurt me….

 

I’m mad at him, diary.

 

He’d better get me a pony.

 

~

 

Beatrix' Diary

January 23rd, 2000

 

Dear Diary,

No Pony :(

 

Daddy’s such a liar! He didn’t get me pony. I even licked him like he told me to, and he didn’t get me a pony.

 

Doesn’t daddy love me, Daddy? If he loved me, he’d get me a pony….Lotsa girls have ponies. Why won’t he give me one?

 

I think Mommy’s starting to worry, Diary. I wasn’t walking too good, n she asked me what happened. I told her Daddy hurt me.

I think I made Mommy mad at me, Diary….

 

Mommy didn’t look at me anymore.

 

Diary, why is Mommy mad?

 

~

 

Beatrix' Diary

January 31st, 2000

 

Dear Diary,

Uncle Jay-Jay :(

 

Uncle Jay-Jay’s a meanie, diary! He tried to touch me, but when I said no, he hit me! He hit me, diary…..

 

Why did he hit me? I just did what Daddy woulda wanted me to do. He always tells me that other guys don’t touch me….

 

If I said yes to Uncle Jay-Jay, would Daddy forgive me, Diary? I don’t want Uncle Jay-Jay to be mad at me. And I know he went to Daddy about it, but they won’t tell me what’s going on.

 

Diary, why won’t they tell me anything?

 

I’m a big girl, now, Diary! I’m six! I can handle it!

 

But, Daddy won’t listen to me. That makes me sad, diary, that makes me sad. Why won’t he talk to me, Daddy?

 

Why won’t he talk to me?

 

~

 

Beatrix' Diary

February 1st, 2000

 

Dear Diary,

I like CHOCOLATE!

 

Daddy gave me something interesting today! It tasted really good….It made me feel so cool, Diary! I was flying, I was flying!

 

I don’t know what it is, Diary, but I really really like it.

 

I want more so bad, but mean Mommy took it away from Daddy. She started yelling at him, Diary! She called Daddy a lotta names. She said she didn’t wanna deal with this anymore.

 

Diary, what’s a pay-doe-file?

 

~

 

Beatrix' Diary

February 1st, 2012

 

Dear Diary,

Dear God.

 

I just re-read this. It’s, what, twelve years later? I can’t do this, diary, I can’t do this. I can’t look back at all of this, but it’s a little late to forget it now. It’s stuck in my head, back in my bloodstream, hurting me again. It’s hurting me again.

 

I’m not able to do this, diary, not able to remember. I’m not able to remember how many times I stripped for ‘Daddy’, or sucked his small dick, or told him I wanted him. I don’t want to remember how often he’d touch me, or tie me up, or use me whenever he got the chance. I remember him molesting me WHEN MOM WAS IN THE OTHER ROOM. I remember all of that way, WAY too well.

 

And reading it here, all out on paper in my goddamned screwball script, makes me realize it’s real.

 

I liked living in denial.

 

Looks like I can’t do that anymore, especially now that I’m trying to continue where I left off.

 

Of course there’s more to my diary, but there’s no way I can keep reading it now. I’m done reading. I’m going to start writing, and….

 

And catch you up on everything that’s happened to me.

 

But, how do I begin to?

 

How do I catch you up on how my mom totally gave up on me? How she practically sent me away, and told me she didn’t want me anymore? How she told me she hated me, and that it was all my fault?

 

How she hoped I would die out here, in the cold and rain?

 

Joke’s on her, I guess.

 

It’s been, what, almost twelve years now since I saw her ‘smiling’ face. Smiling, ha….More like horrible rictus. Woman never could get the hang of the whole ‘motherly love’ thing.

 

Of course, Daddy couldn’t, either. But he goes without saying.

 

It’s weird, how they ended up together. One parent bad because he molested his kid, and the other bad because they were too stuck-up to care.

 

It’s a wonder I turned out so amazingly.

 

Ha, ‘amazingly’. I’m sitting with my ass in a snowbank as I write this, back to a streetlight, just so I get enough light to write. It’s, like, four in the morning. I think.

 

Hell, what kind of place has snow in FEBRUARY, anyway?

 

I’m way too far north. I never should’ve come this far-never did well in the cold.

 

Well, looks like I’m stuck with it now, though….

 

At least until I find a place to stay.

 

A place to stay sounds amazing right about now. I haven’t had a hot meal in days now, and I’ve only slept in an actual bed a handful of times since I left.

 

I’m so going to get back problems when I’m older…..

 

Anyways, I’m sorry to ramble so much, Diary. I just need…to get some stuff off my chest, and you feel like a good place to vent to.

 

I’ll catch you up, then.

 

~

 

Beatrix' Diary

February 14th, 2012

 

Dear Diary,

I'm scared

 

I don’t know where I am. I’m on a park bench. It’s cold, it’s wet, and it’s lonely. I’m writing this so someone knows what happens to me if…if these two girls I met kill me.

 

They found me squatting somewhere around here a few weeks ago. Ever since, they’ve been coming by me. They keep asking me questions, Diary, and I think they know who I am. I think they know I….

 

I think they know I killed Daddy.

 

There’s no way they could know, though. My hair’s dyed, I’ve got contact lenses, and I’m always dirty. I never draw attention to myself. I never stay in one place too long.

 

In fact, the only reason I’ve stayed here this long is because these girls bring me food.

 

They bring me plenty of food.

 

I haven’t eaten anything good in weeks, and they can tell….They can tell I can’t afford to move on. Can’t bring myself to leave a good

source of hot food behind, even if it’s typically just burgers and fries.

 

Still, these girls bring me MILKSHAKES, diary. Do you know how long it’s been since I had a milkshake?

 

Why, just about twelve years or more.

 

You really don’t get too many milkshakes when you’re on the run….

 

They taste so good, Diary, but I can’t decide if they’re worth the risk. I mean, they obviously aren’t, but…warm food I don’t beg for.

 

Milkshakes. Friendly conversation.

 

These girls seem to like me, Diary. They’re kind to me, and not many people are. Most people, whenever they see me, just pretend I don’t exist. They walk fast so I won’t offend them by starving, or whatever the fuck their reasoning is.

 

Not these girls. They stop, talk to me, bring me food, bring me gifts. I’m starting to come out of my shell now.

 

They call me Beatrix, Diary. I obviously had no choice but to give them a fake name when we first met, as telling them my real name would lead them to my real identity.

 

I still remember the first time I met them.

 

I was curled up on a bench, trying not to freeze. My thrift-store coat was barely big enough to cover all of me, no matter how tightly I curled underneath it, so I kept freezing different parts of my body. I was beyond glad I’d splurged earlier and gone for one that was longer-even when it was done up, it reached down far enough to give my legs decent protection from the wind.

 

I’d been sitting on the bench for a good, long while before these girls showed up. One of them’s short, the other’s tall and slim. I nickname them Red Dwarf (the shorter one has fiery-red hair), and Tall Drink of Nothing. Figuring that’s all the social interaction I’ll get from them, I pay them no heed as they walk by….

 

Then, they stop.

 

Turn.

 

Stare at me.

 

Trade whispers.

 

I can tell what they’re doing-they’re just comparing notes, asking each other about their opinion on me. The shorter one seems to give something resembling a fuck, while the taller one does not. Tall Drink of Nothing really does have nothing in her, I suppose. Meh, doesn’t matter too much to me.

 

But, apparently Tall Drink gets shot down, and Red comes over to me.

 

I’m staring at these girls as Red gets close. She’s watching me closely-thinking I’ll run?

 

It isn’t worth running. I know it isn’t.

 

I’d never get far, so I hang around, waiting to see what they’ll do.

 

They get closer to me, looking down at me. Red looks at me quickly, examining me. She's clearly thinking something. Clearly. Then, Red does something that surprises me-the tiny lil waif kisses me on the hair.

 

I'm shocked, Diary-I almost punched her, I was so shocked. I don't even know why she did that.

 

While I'm vaguely incapacitated, she looks down at me and says, "You wanna come with?"

 

I don't react. I'm too in shock. When I get my brain to work again, I shake my head at her, before turning around and pretty much running away.

 

They don't follow me.

 

I'm so glad I saw them again, though. As scary as it was to see them the first time, at least now I finally have some company.

 

Happy Valentine's Day to me.

 

~

 

Beatrix' Diary

February 15th, 2012

 

Dear Diary,

I think I know what they want

 

They keep bugging me to come with them. They haven't yet told me where they want me to go, but it seems mighty important. I've turned them down every time-I'd be dead long ago if I went with everyone who invited me. And these girls, milkshakes or not, are freaking me out. There's something they aren't telling me.

 

And I think I'm starting to get a small idea of what that is.

 

There've been rumors, on the street, of something big happening. Of this place called the Agency where runaways can go and be safe. Nobody's ever come back, at least not to the street. I don't know if I can trust it, but....It sounds like a safe place.

 

Or, you know, they could be luring into some kill-all-homeless-people murder den. That sounds like an option, too. A place with broken glass, and gas, and dogs.

 

I think I saw an episode about that once; forget the show, though.

 

Still. It...sounds okay.

 

If they keep coming....Keep asking....Maybe I'll end up going.

 

What do I have to lose, honestly? I have no home to go to. No one who actually cares abut me, or even really knows I exist. I don't know anyone.

 

No one who would actually miss me if I died.

 

Yeah....

 

Next time I see them, I'm going with them.

 

~

 

Beatrix' Diary

February 16th, 2012

 

Dear Diary,

I Can't believe I'm Alive

 

I went with them. I went with them, and the Agency is real. It is actually real.

 

This all happened two days ago. As usual, these girls came and found me. They came bearing a chocolate milkshake, one that came with chocolate swirls on top. I had quickly became addicted to these things-and who could blame me, really? These milkshakes are the first real delicacies I've had in forever.

 

They sat down, and talked with me for a while. They didn't really ask me any questions-they just wanted to know if I was okay, if there was anything I was missing, or if I was cold. I kept my responses brief, as always, but I think they could tell I'd made a choice.

 

Finally, when I'd ran out of milkshake to slurp at-and was already missing it-Red asked me to come with them.

 

And I went.

 

I don't even know where they took me; I was too hyped up to pay much attention. First place they took me was to this hotel down the street. I'd come by it before, but I knew from experience that the workers there didn't take too kindly to people like me. So, I was on edge.

However, all Tall Drink of Nothing did was just nod at the dude at the desk-and we were in. And, diary, as childish as it might've been-it felt really dang good to shoot the guy the finger as I walked on by.

 

These girls led me up,up, up to the top floor. They offered to let me take the elevator, but I said no, and stayed with them. Even though the hotel had a huge amount of floors, I plodded all the way up there with them.

 

When we got there, Red handed me a key-card, pointed to a door, and told me to take a shower.

 

Once I got my brain back in gear, I went inside, and stared at the room. This place is GORGEOUS. I should've guessed from all the marble outside, but...Inside was even better. I took off my ragged shoes the second I could, and ran my toes through the soft carpet. Felt like walking on a cloud.

 

Before I knew it, I was running right towards the window.

 

I opened it, stepped through, and stared down.

 

I have a BALCONY.

 

I felt like a princess. For the first time in a long time, I felt good--and it was all thanks to these girls.

Next step, shower.

 

After tearing myself away from the window, I scampered right to the bathroom.

 

The floor was tiled, and beautiful, and everything. I felt like a downright queen as I stripped down, hurling the rags I'd worn into a corner.

I'd have to deal with them later.

 

Diary, the water was so good. It was warm, washed away everything, helped me feel better....

 

Felt fricken' amazing.

 

I must have been in there for well over an hour, getting street-dirt out of my hair and skin. The soap stung the scattered scrapes and scratches I'd picked up, but that was a small price to pay for finally being clean.

 

When I finally got out, I dried myself off. I stared for a few seconds at the ragged pile of clothing, raising it up to my nose to give it a quick sniff. The stench burned my nose hairs.

 

No, not going to happen. Not ever.

 

Deciding I'd go naked for now, I wrapped a towel around my torso. It took a few tries to get it to stay, and I was glad life on the street made me so small.

 

Feeling slightly more properly attired, I left the bathroom.

 

And felt like I should've worn the clothes I came in, dirty or not.

 

Red and Tall Drink were waiting for me.

 

They must have another copy of the key-card.

 

I stare at them for a little while, before shrugging. It's not like they're the first girls to see me naked, so I sit down on a nearby chair. Finally, Tall Drink breaks the silence: "I'm Janelle. This is Maverick. We're representatives of the Agency for Unwanted Children."

 

"Look a little...old to be kids," I reply instantly, and it's true-they both appear to be a year or two older than I am, and I'm eighteen.

 

"So're you," Red replies, rolling her eyes. "Look, the name ain't the point. The point is that you're going to come with us. You know you want to."

 

That came off as more than a bit creepy, Diary. Jeez, I was a bit terrified. But, I was already here, now wasn't I? Why stop now?

 

So, I shrugged. Told them I'd come.

 

And then something ELSE happened: A knock came on the door.

 

Naturally, I freak out and run to the washroom. They must've called the cops, is all I'm able to think.

 

Then, I hear the door to the hotel room opening....

 

And it's the voice of Martin.

 

Yeah.

 

THAT Martin.

 

The one I travelled with for three years, before he up and disappeared.

 

I gotta end this here-the girls need to take me to the next place.