2010

Peter looks up from his paperwork as William enters, his eyes widening at the sight of the small, trembling black-haired girl named Raven Howards, who is clutching something tightly in her hands. She sits opposite him, hunched over in a chair that seems too large for her fragile frame. Her wide eyes are brimming with unshed tears and fear as she glances up briefly to meet William's gaze. Peter, noticing William's arrival, quickly stands and knocks over his half-finished donut, sending a puff of powdered sugar into the air. "Judge Jones! Right on time. This is Raven," he says, brushing off the sugar from his shirt with a nervous laugh. "We've got quite the case on our hands here." The girl flinches at the sound, tightening her grip on the unidentifiable object. William's expression softens slightly as he approaches her, his posture less rigid and his voice gentle. "Raven, I'm here to help," he says, kneeling down to be at eye level with her. "What do you have in your hands, sweetheart?"

William's gaze follows Raven's as she shifts in the chair, revealing a glimpse of a thick purple book clutched tightly in her arms. The words "LARGE SCRAPBOOK" are embossed in gold on the cover, with a small, almost hidden name written underneath: "Raven Howards." The room seems to hold its breath for a moment, the only sound the rustle of pages as she adjusts her grip, her eyes never leaving the floor.

With a gentle tone, William speaks to the trembling girl "Raven, I know this must be scary for you, but we're all here to make sure you're okay. Can you tell me why you're holding that book so tightly?" He reaches out a hand, not quite touching her but offering comfort nonetheless.

: Raven's body tenses at William's approach, her eyes darting to his hand before it reaches her. She quickly shifts away, the chair scraping against the floor. In a barely audible voice, she whispers, "It's-It's important to me." Her knuckles whiten around the book, her lifeline in this cold, unfamiliar world.

William retracts his hand, respecting her space. "I understand, Raven. It's alright. We won't take it from you unless you tell us it's okay. But for now, can you tell us a little about it?"

Her eyes drift towards the wall, the plastered images of happy families and children playing seemingly taunting her. The weight of her situation presses down on her, making it difficult to breathe. She whispers, "It's... it's just a book," her voice cracking. Her eyes fixate on a spot just above the horizon line of the wallpaper, focusing on the pattern of the wall behind it, as if seeking solace in its mundanity.

Sensing her discomfort, William nods solemnly. "Okay, Raven. It's your book, and it's safe here with you. But I'd like to help, so I need to know what's going on. Can you tell us why you're here today?" His voice is calm and steady, a beacon of stability in the storm of her emotions.

Leaning in slightly, Peter whispers to William, his eyes filled with concern. "Hey, boss, take a look at these notes. They were with Raven's file." He passes over a set of neatly typed pages, which seem out of place amidst the chaos of his desk.

William's gaze remains fixed on Raven as Peter speaks, his heart heavy with the responsibility that comes with every case that lands on his desk. He accepts the papers with a nod, his eyes scanning over the neatly typed words. The room seems to close in around him as he reads the detailed accounts of abuse and neglect, his mind racing to piece together the horrors that Raven has endured. He looks back up at Peter, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "What kind of monsters...?" he murmurs, his voice trailing off as he flips through the pages.

Peter's smile fades as he watches William read the report, his own heart aching for the little girl. He shuffles his feet, looking down at his scuffed shoes. "The kind we sadly know too well, Judge Jones." His voice is soft, the jovial tone nowhere to be found. "But we're here to make sure she doesn't have to go back to that, right?" He looks up hopefully, seeking reassurance in William's eyes.

: The weight of the words on the pages seems to bear down on William, his face paling. "This..." he starts to say, unable to find the right words to convey his horror. He clears his throat, looking up to meet Peter's gaze. "This is... monstrous." He swallows hard, his hand trembling slightly. "We've seen tough cases, Peter, but this... This is beyond comprehension."

With a heavy sigh, Peter nods gravely "I know, Judge Jones. The things we've seen...it's like peeking into the darkest corners of humanity. But we can't let it overwhelm us. We have to be the light for her." He gestures at Raven, who hasn't moved, her eyes still fixed on the wallpaper. "This little one has been through hell, and she's still holding on. We've got to find her a place where she can heal."

After a moment of silence, William straightens his tie, a subtle sign of regaining his composure. "You're right, Peter. We need to focus on the task at hand." He looks back at Raven, his expression firm but kind. "Raven, I promise you, we will do everything in our power to find you a good home. A place where you can be safe, loved, and free from fear."

Raven's eyes dart to William, hope flickering in the depths of her gaze. But it's a hope that's been bruised and battered, and it doesn't hold strong for long. She whispers something so faintly that it's barely audible, even in the quiet of the office. Her body seems to shrink in on itself, as if trying to escape the very chair she sits in. The words that do reach the men's ears sound almost like a prayer, a desperate plea for a miracle she's not sure she believes in anymore. "Please... don't lie to me." Her voice is a brittle thread, and she clutches the book even tighter as if it's the only truth she has left in the world.

William's stern façade cracks, and his eyes soften even more. He crosses the room to stand directly in front of Raven, his large frame casting a shadow over the desk, but he crouches down to bring himself to her level once again. He takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "Raven, I swear to you, on everything that I am, I will not lie to you. I will do everything in my power to find a place where you can be safe and happy. I know it's hard to trust right now, but I need you to believe me." He pauses, his hand hovering over hers that clutches the book. "May I?" he asks, his voice gentle, hoping she'll allow him to see the one thing that seems to

Raven's eyes well up with tears that threaten to spill over, but she bites her quivering lip, refusing to let them fall. She clenches her jaw, and with a firm yet trembling voice, she whispers, "I'm sorry." Her arms tighten around the book, pulling it closer to her chest as if it's a lifeline. "Not right now," she adds, her voice cracking. The purple book seems to be the last bastion of her childhood innocence, and she's not ready to share it with anyone, not even the two men who seem to genuinely care about her well-being. She looks away, her eyes focusing on a spot on the floor, as if the answers to all her fears might be found in the worn carpet's pattern.

William nods, his hand slowly retreating. "I understand, Raven. Whenever you're ready, we'll be here to listen." He stands, his knees popping with the effort, and returns to his own chair. The gravity of the situation settles in the room like a dense fog, and he takes a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking again. "Peter, let's review her case file together."

Peter nods solemnly, his usual cheerfulness replaced by a profound sadness. He pulls out a fresh donut from his drawer, breaks it in half, and offers one to William, who accepts it with a grateful nod. They both know that sugar isn't the solution to the bitter reality, but it's a small comfort in moments like these. They sit side by side, flipping through the file with a sense of urgency. The papers rustle as Peter points out the history of abuse and neglect that has plagued Raven's young life. His voice is a mix of anger and compassion as he recounts her story. The smell of the donut fills the air, a stark contrast to the bleakness of the words they're reading. The room seems to dim around them as they immerse themselves in the details of her case.

As Peter speaks, William's eyes never leave the file. His mind races, trying to understand the depths of Raven's trauma. Suddenly, the low rumble of a growl echoes through the room, and both men's heads snap up, eyes darting to Raven. Her face is scarlet, and she looks like she's trying to shrink into the chair. William's heart clenches in his chest. He's seen children react in strange ways to stress, but this... this is new. "Raven?" he asks softly, setting the file aside. "Is everything okay?"

Raven's gaze snaps to William, embarrassment flooding her features. She nods rapidly, trying to convey her apology without speaking too loudly. "J-just a bit hungry," she whispers, her voice shaking. "I'm sorry." She tucks the scrapbook into her lap, her eyes dropping to the floor again.

William's expression softens further, and he nods understandingly. He glances over at Peter, who shuffles through his desk and pulls out a pack of crackers. "Here, Raven," Peter says, offering them to her with a gentle smile. "These are from my stash. They're not as good as donuts, but they'll do the trick." Raven takes the crackers with a murmured thanks, her hands trembling slightly as she opens the package. The room feels heavy with the weight of her silence, and William clears his throat before speaking. "Raven, I know this is hard, but it's important we understand what happened to you so we can help. Can you tell us anything about your home life before coming here?"

Raven nibbles on a cracker, her eyes glazed over as she recounts the horrors she's faced. "My dad... he was never around. And when he was, he was... he was mean. And mama..." she trails off, her voice barely a whisper. "Mama tried, but she was always tired. And then..." She pauses, her breath hitching in her throat. "And then she stopped trying." Her grip on the scrapbook tightens until her knuckles are white. "I... I just want it to stop. I want to be safe," she says, the last words barely audible. "And then Sarah..."

William's shock is palpable as Raven's words hang in the air. His piercing blue eyes widen, and he leans forward in his chair, his elbows on the desk. "Sarah?" he repeats, his voice thick with concern. "Who is Sarah, Raven?" His hand reaches out again, but this time, it's not to touch her but to offer a tissue from the box on Peter's desk.

: Raven's eyes are glued to the floor as she nods. "Sarah," she whispers, her voice trembling. "Mama's... friend. After Mama passed, she started coming around more. She was nice to me at first, but then... she changed." A tear escapes her lashes and rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away with the back of her hand, leaving a smudge of dirt. "Daddy liked her, and she liked him too much. She didn't like me." Her words come out in a rush, as if she's been holding her breath for years. "They did things," she says, her voice a mere thread. "To me." She doesn't look up, but the pain in her voice is a stark contrast to the silence that follows. The air in the room feels thick and oppressive, charged with the horror of her confession.

: "I want to leave," she says suddenly, her voice stronger, her fist clenched around the book. "Even if it means... even if it means I have to go up there with Mama." Her gaze darts to the ceiling, as though she can see the heavens she's referring to.

William's heart squeezes in his chest at Raven's words. He nods slowly, his hand hovering over her shoulder as he considers the gravity of her statement. "I understand, Raven," he says, his voice filled with empathy. "But we need to make sure that you're safe and that you're with people who truly care for you."

Raven's gaze remains on the floor, her voice a barely audible murmur. "Where will I find that?" she repeats, her voice laced with skepticism. She looks up briefly, meeting William's gaze with a challenge in her eyes. "You say you'll help me, but everyone says that. And then..." she trails off, a solitary tear slipping down her cheek. She wipes it away with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of dirt. "They never do." The room seems to shrink around her, the weight of her past heavy on her shoulders. She clutches the scrapbook closer to her chest, as if it's the only truth she can hold onto.

William's eyes follow the path of the tear, his own heart aching at the doubt in her voice. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself against the emotions that threaten to overwhelm him. "Raven, I know it's hard to trust, but we are different. We're here to protect you, not to cause you more pain." His hand rests on the file, the weight of her story a tangible presence. "We'll find a place for you, somewhere where you'll be safe and cared for. But first, we need to make sure that no one can hurt you again." He pauses, his eyes searching hers. "Can you tell us more about what happened with Sarah?" The room is silent, save for the distant hum of the office outside.

The quiet dignity in William's voice reaches through the fog of Raven's fear and pain. She stares at the floor, her grip on the scrapbook loosening slightly as she whispers, "It... it hurts." Tears begin to slide down her cheeks, tracing lines in the grime that coats her skin. The sudden sound of raised voices and heavy footsteps echoes in the hallway, and she jerks upright, her eyes wide with terror. "I don't want to talk about it," she whispers, the words barely audible over the pounding in her chest.

The sudden change in Raven's demeanor sends a chill down William's spine. Her quiet confession of pain is interrupted by the thunderous roar of a man's voice from outside the room. William's eyes narrow as he recognizes the tone of someone who has no business being near a child, especially not one as vulnerable as Raven. His gaze snaps to the door, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun holstered at his side. The little girl's head whips around, her eyes wide with panic. "No, Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones, please don't let him take me!" she yelps through her tears. Before William can react, Peter's arms are around her, holding her tightly as she sobs into his shoulder. The door rattles in its frame, the rage in the man's voice palpable. "Where is that little b***h?!" the man shouts, and the other officers' voices blend into a cacophony of confusion and concern. William's hand wraps around the gun grip, his body tensing as he steps in front of the door, his eyes unyielding. "You will not lay a hand on her," he says firmly, his voice echoing through the room.

With a swiftness that belies his usual clumsiness, Peter's hand darts to his holster, drawing his own weapon. He holds Raven tightly, her trembling form a stark contrast to the solid comfort of his embrace. Her words are muffled against his shoulder, but the venom in her whispers sends a chill down his spine. He knows that the anger and fear she feels are a defense mechanism, a way to cope with the horrors she's endured. He nods to William, his eyes never leaving the door. "We've got you, Raven," he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble in her ear. The weight of the gun feels foreign in his hand, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. His heart is pounding in his chest, but he forces himself to remain calm, to be the rock she needs in this storm. The door handle jerks, and Peter's grip tightens on the weapon. "Who's out there?" he calls out, his voice steady despite the chaos in his soul. The only response is the frenzied rattling of the lock.

William Jones: The chaos outside the room escalates as officers shout orders and the man's profanities pierce the air. William's face is a mask of stoic resolve, his finger resting lightly on the trigger of his gun. The sound of heavy boots and the jangle of keys grows louder, the thuds against the wood increasing in tempo. His heart races, but his mind is crystal clear. He's made a silent promise to Raven, and he won't let anyone, not even the monsters from her past, break it. The handle jerks again, and Peter's voice echoes through the room, demanding to know the intruder's identity. The man's curses grow louder, his fury a palpable force. William's eyes flicker to the terrified girl in Peter's arms, then back to the door. "We're coming," he calls out, his voice firm and steady. "Hold on, Raven." He braces himself, ready to face whatever nightmare is on the other side.

: The sudden silence is deafening. The tension in the room snaps like a taut wire. The cacophony outside the door abruptly ceases, and an officer's voice cuts through the quiet like a knife. "Sir, he's been subdued. We're taking him into custody." William's shoulders drop slightly, the tension in the room dissipating like fog in the sun. He exhales a shaky breath and nods to Peter, holstering his weapon. The color drains from Raven's face, and she buries it into Peter's shoulder, her small body wracked with tremors. Peter whispers reassurances, stroking her hair gently. The door opens, and a pair of officers enter, their eyes scanning the room, searching for any sign of threat. One offers a nod to William. "He won't be bothering anyone anymore," he says gruffly, his expression grim. The man's yelling fades down the corridor, the sound of his struggle growing distant as they drag him away. The room feels eerily calm, the storm having passed, leaving only the echoes of fear and a bruised little girl clinging to the one thing she has left of her mother: the purple scrapbook.

Raven lifts her tear-stained face from Peter's shoulder and looks at William with a mix of desperation and hope. She whispers, "Please, Mr. Jones, take me away from here. Anywhere is better." The raw emotion in her voice cuts through the silence, and William's expression softens. He nods solemnly, understanding the depth of her fear. "Raven," he says gently, "do you have anything at your home that you'd like to take with you? Something that would make you feel safer?" Her eyes widen at the prospect of escape, and she nods frantically, clutching her scrapbook even tighter.

Raven's plea resonates within William, and he stands up, his movements deliberate and calm. "Alright, Raven," he says firmly, his voice steady. "We're going to take you somewhere safe, just the two of us." He nods to Peter, who nods back, the gravity of the situation etched on his face. Peter gently sets her down and moves to the door, speaking in a low voice to someone outside.

"Ensure that no one, and I mean no one, enters this room without my or Judge Jones's consent. We're taking Raven somewhere more comfortable to speak," Peter instructs the officers, his voice firm yet gentle. He turns back to Raven, offering his hand. "Come on, kiddo, let's go grab those things."

Raven nods, her eyes never leaving William's as she takes Peter's hand. The warmth and kindness in his touch feels alien but comforting. She clutches her scrapbook to her chest with the other hand as she stands, her legs wobbly. The thought of returning to that house fills her with a cold dread, but she knows she needs to get her mother's favorite blanket. She takes a deep, shaky breath and whispers, "Okay."

William's gaze holds Raven's as Peter leads her out. He feels a mix of anger and sadness, knowing that the safety he's promised is a delicate construct, a shelter from the tempestuous world she's been thrown into. He gathers the files and stands, straightening his tie. "Let's go," he says firmly, his jaw set. As they move through the hallway, he keeps his hand lightly on Raven's shoulder, a silent reassurance that she's not alone in this.

As they enter the car, William takes his seat in the front, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation in the rearview mirror as he watches Raven climb into the back. The leather upholstery seems to swallow her small frame, and he feels the weight of her words from earlier. Peter starts the engine, and the quiet hum fills the vehicle, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the office.

The silence in the car stretches taut like a bowstring, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Raven's voice, when it finally breaks the quiet, is a soft, tremulous whisper. "It's funny," she says, her eyes fixed on the scrapbook in her lap. "Today's my birthday." Her words hang in the air, a stark reminder of the innocence that's been stolen from her.

Turning around in his seat, William looks at Raven in the rearview mirror, his stern facade cracking slightly to reveal a warm smile. "Is that so?" he asks, trying to infuse his voice with the same lightness he heard in Peter's chuckle. "Happy birthday, Raven." Her words hang in the air, and William's heart clenches. He knows that for her, today is likely a day of fear and uncertainty, not celebration. "How old are you today, young lady?" he inquires gently.

Raven lifts her eyes from the scrapbook to meet William's in the mirror. She swallows hard, her voice trembling. "Eleven," she whispers, her eyes searching his for a reaction. "I think. It's been a while," she adds, her voice trailing off as she clutches the book even tighter. The silence in the car stretches out, filled only with the quiet hum of the engine. The gravity of her admission settles in William's chest, and he can see Peter's reflection in the mirror, his eyes flickering between the road and the girl in the backseat. The weight of the years she's lost to fear and pain is almost too much to bear, but he forces a smile. "Well, then, happy eleventh birthday, Raven," he says, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "We'll make sure this is a birthday you won't forget, and not for the reasons you might expect."

William's heart skips a beat as a tiny, fleeting smile flits across Raven's face, lighting up her tear-stained cheeks. It's a smile so faint that he almost thinks he's imagined it, but it's there. Her eyes flicker with something that might be hope, and she nods slightly. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice softer than the rustle of the pages in her book. The sight of that smile, so small and yet so powerful, fills William with a determination to give her the life she deserves. He turns back to face the road ahead, his expression resolute. "We're going to get you that blanket and then find you a safe place," he says firmly. "A place where you can grow up without fear."

Raven nods again, her eyes never leaving William's in the mirror. She seems to find something comforting in his steady gaze, his promise of a better future. She sniffs and wipes her nose with the back of her hand, then whispers, "I hope so." Her voice is so faint that Peter has to lean closer to hear her. She turns her head to gaze out the window, the blur of passing buildings and people a stark contrast to the stagnation of her own life. The world outside seems so vast and untouched by the darkness she's known.

William's eyes linger on Raven's reflection in the mirror for a moment longer before he finally turns back to face the road ahead. "I hope so too," he whispers, the words a solemn vow. His grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly, his knuckles whitening with the intensity of his resolve. The quiet in the car is a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions swirling within him. He's seen too many children like Raven, their lives shattered by cruelty and neglect, and it's moments like these that remind him why he chose this path. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenge that lies ahead. "We'll make it happen," he adds, his voice firm.

Peter's eyes dart to Raven's reflection in the rearview mirror as she remains silent. He can feel her fear, the tension in her body as she sits between them, so small and fragile. The weight of her past is a heavy burden for such a young soul to bear. He clears his throat gently, trying to lighten the mood. "So, Raven, do you have any favorite places you'd like to go, or maybe a type of food you've been craving?" His voice is hopeful, a gentle probe to coax her out of her shell. But her eyes widen, and she shifts in her seat, her grip on the scrapbook tightening. Something is wrong, something she's not telling them. Peter's heart squeezes, and his smile fades as he waits for her response, his eyes never leaving the mirror.

William's eyes follow Raven's gaze, and he sees the house she's staring at. His hand tightens on the steering wheel, noticing the way her body stiffens. "What is it, Raven?" he asks, his voice gentle but firm. The house is like a beacon of domesticity in the urban sprawl, the kind of place that could hold a child's happiness or a monster's lair.

Raven's gaze remains glued to the bright yellow house with the flower bushes. She swallows hard, her voice shaking as she speaks. "Mr. Jones," she whispers, turning to meet his eyes in the mirror, "what if...what if she's in there?" Fear laces her words, each syllable carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken terrors. Her eyes dart back to the house, searching for any sign of the woman she fears. The house seems innocuous, almost welcoming with its cheerful exterior, but the tremble in her voice tells a different story.

Peter's eyes narrow with concern as he glances at William in the front seat. He knows the gravity of their mission and the potential danger they might face. "We're with you, Raven," he says, his voice a soothing balm. "We're going to make sure you're safe. Judge Jones and I won't let anything bad happen to you." He gives her a comforting smile before turning to William, his expression now a mix of resolve and anxiety. "Let's do this," he murmurs, his hand resting on the door handle.

William nods in agreement with Peter, his jaw set as he parks the car a safe distance from the house. He looks at Raven in the rearview mirror one last time. "We're here, Raven. Stay put. We're going to check if everything's okay." He reaches for the door handle, his hand hovering for a moment before he opens the door and steps out into the cool evening air. The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the lawn. The house seems almost too quiet, too still.

Peter quickly follows William's lead, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger. His heart races as they approach the door, his palms slightly damp with sweat. He wipes them on his pant legs and takes a deep breath before knocking firmly on the door. It swings open with a squeak, and a blonde woman, her smile plastic and brittle, stands before them. "Can I help you gentlemen?" she asks sweetly, but there's a wildness in her eyes that makes Peter's stomach clench.

The blonde woman's demeanor shifts instantaneously from welcoming to furious as she recognizes the CSRD emblem on their shirts. "What have you done with him?" she snarls, her fists balling at her sides. "Where is Marcus?" The sound of her voice sends a chill down William's spine, and he knows they're dealing with someone volatile. He keeps his hand on the doorframe, his body blocking the entrance. "Ma'am, we need to come in and speak with you," he says, his voice calm but firm.

The woman's face contorts with rage as she shouts, "You have no right to be in here, you kidnappers!" She lunges forward, but William's swift reflexes keep her at bay. Just as she's about to say more, the sound of tires screeching and sirens wailing fills the air. A second CSRD car pulls into the driveway, and three officers jump out, their eyes immediately locking onto the scene.

The woman's rant is cut short as she gasps at the sight of the additional officers approaching. "Ma'am," William's voice is a steel trap, unyielding and cold, "you're under arrest for child abuse, theft, and any other charges that may come to light." Her eyes widen in disbelief and fear, but she doesn't resist as the officers move in to restrain her.

As the officers escort the hysterical woman away, Peter can't help but feel a wave of relief wash over him. He rushes to the car, his eyes locked on Raven's terrified face. He opens the door and slides in beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's okay," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "You're safe now."

Raven's eyes are glued to the house, her knuckles white against the scrapbook. She flinches at Peter's touch, then relaxes slightly. She turns to him, her eyes searching his. "Is she really gone?" she asks, her voice a mere whisper.

William appears at Peter's side, his expression grim but determined as he nods. "Yes, Raven," he says, his voice steady and reassuring. "She won't be able to hurt you anymore." He glances at Peter, the weight of their shared responsibility heavy on his shoulders. "Let's get you inside, and we'll make sure you're okay."

: Raven nods, her eyes flicking between William and Peter before she gathers her courage and steps out of the car. She clutches the scrapbook tightly to her chest, her legs shaking as she follows them up the path to the house she once knew as home. The door stands open, and she hesitates on the threshold, her breath hitching in her throat.

 William places a firm but gentle hand on Raven's shoulder, guiding her into the house. The living room is a mess, a stark contrast to the orderly office they left behind. "Raven," he says, his voice low and soothing, "why don't you go get your mother's blanket? We'll be right here." He watches as she slips away, his gaze lingering on the spot where she disappeared before returning to Peter. "Let's check the rest of the house," he murmurs, his eyes dark with purpose.

Peter nods solemnly, his stomach churning at the thought of what Raven might have endured here. He follows William into the kitchen, his eyes scanning the room. The counter is littered with dirty dishes and a frying pan sits at an awkward angle. Upon closer inspection, Peter notices the metallic glint of dried blood on the bottom of the pan, his stomach twisting. "Judge," he whispers, pointing to the pan, his voice tight with horror. The kitchen seems to have been abandoned in a hurry, with a chair knocked over and shattered glass on the floor. The sight of the crimson stains sends a cold shiver down Peter's spine, and he can't help but gasp.

William's gaze follows Peter's finger to the frying pan, his expression grim as he takes in the scene. "We'll need to document all of this," he murmurs, pulling out his phone to snap a few pictures. His eyes scan the rest of the kitchen, noticing the blood-red knives scattered across the countertop. The shattered glass glitters on the floor like a morbid confetti. "Make sure not to touch anything," he instructs, his voice tight with anger. The house, which should have been a sanctuary, is instead a testament to the horrors Raven faced.

Peter nods, his eyes watering as he tries to keep his emotions in check. The smell of stale alcohol and something faintly chemical fills his nostrils, turning his stomach. "Got it," he whispers, his voice barely audible. He pulls out a small notebook and pen from his pocket, jotting down the details of the kitchen's grisly state. The smell seems to permeate the very fabric of the house, a silent scream of neglect and abuse.

As Peter documents the scene, William's gaze flicks to the open cabinets, a cold realization dawning on him. He takes a step back, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. "Wait," he murmurs, raising a hand to stop Peter. Suddenly, they both freeze at the sound of a soft, eerie voice. "Don't open the cabinet," it whispers from the hallway. They turn to see Raven, her eyes wide with terror, clutching a box of her belongings. William's heart skips a beat, his mind racing with the implications of her words. He nods at Peter, his expression a silent command to keep the room as it is, and he quickly moves to Raven's side, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, Raven," he says, his voice calm and firm. "We're not going to touch anything without you." He gently guides her back to the car, the box in her arms seemingly lighter than the fear that clings to her.

 Peter carefully takes the box from Raven's arms, his eyes filled with a mix of pity and anger at what she's been through. He opens the trunk of the car, placing the box next to the purple scrapbook they had retrieved earlier. The sight of her meager possessions brings a lump to his throat. "Raven, are you absolutely sure there's nothing else you want to take?" he asks, his voice gentle yet firm. He wants to give her every opportunity to claim something from this house that she can call her own, despite its haunting memories.

 Raven nods solemnly, her eyes downcast. "They... they burned the blanket," she says, her voice softer than a whisper. The pain in her words is palpable, and Peter feels a pang of sadness. "They said it was dirty," she adds, her voice cracking slightly. "They burned everything of hers." Peter's eyes widen with horror as he looks back at the house, his thoughts racing with the implications of her words. William, having heard the exchange, nods solemnly at Peter before turning to Raven. "Raven, if there's anything else, you just tell us, okay?" His voice is a gentle rumble, a promise of protection and care. Raven nods, before her eyes light up and she darts towards the house.

 William's eyes follow Raven as she sprints back into the house, her small figure a blur of determination. He calls out to her, his voice a mix of concern and urgency. "Raven, wait! What is it?" She doesn't respond, and he quickly makes a decision. "Peter, stay with the car. I'll go after her." He takes off at a jog, his heart racing as he tries to keep up with the girl's frantic pace.

William reaches the base of the stairs, his breath coming in short bursts. He hears the thuds of Raven's footsteps growing more distant above him. He takes a moment to gather himself before starting the climb, his shoes echoing on the wooden steps. When he reaches the attic, the ladder is pulled down, and dust motes dance in the shaft of light from the open hatch. He calls out again, "Raven, what are you looking for?"

Raven's breath comes in ragged gasps as she pulls herself into the attic, the space seemingly a bastion of memories she thought she'd never touch again. The floorboards creak under her weight, and the musty scent of forgotten treasures fills the air. Her eyes scan the dimly lit space, spotting a box in the corner, half-hidden by a dusty curtain. She rushes over and flings the lid open, her trembling hands sifting through its contents. Then, amidst the cobwebs and dust, she finds it: a large, bright orange hoodie, the color of a warm sunset. Her mother's favorite color. "They forgot it," she whispers to herself, her voice filled with a mix of disbelief and joy. It's a small victory in a sea of pain, but it's enough to bring a smile to her lips.

 Hearing the thuds of Raven's footsteps above, William quickens his pace, his heart hammering in his chest. He calls out, "Raven, wait for me!" The attic door is open, and as he climbs the ladder, the dust billows around him, creating a cloudy veil that clings to his clothes and hair. As he emerges into the space, he sees the girl's silhouette, the last vestiges of the setting sun outlining her against the dusty backdrop.

 The attic is a cobwebbed maze of forgotten memories, but William's eyes are drawn to the bright pop of orange in the corner. As he approaches, Raven holds up the hoodie, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It's my mom's," she whispers, a tentative smile playing on her lips. William feels the weight of her pain, but also the warmth of her hope. He nods, his own eyes misting over. "We'll take it," he says gently. She nods, and together they make their way back down the ladder, the house's secrets now revealed. The cool evening air outside feels like a reprieve after the stifling attic. They head to the car in silence, the weight of their discovery heavy between them.

Peter, still by the car, watches as William and Raven emerge from the house, the orange hoodie a stark contrast to the gloom that had been clinging to them. He opens the back door, his gaze meeting Raven's. "Is everything okay?" he asks, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. She nods, her grip on the hoodie tightening. William slides into the driver's seat, his expression grim. "We'll need to report this," he says, starting the engine. The car's headlights cut through the gathering darkness as they pull away from the house, leaving the horrors behind. Raven sits in the back, her eyes fixed on the receding house, the hoodie clutched to her chest like a lifeline. Peter turns to face her, his own eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation. "We're taking you somewhere safe," he promises, his voice steady despite the tumult of emotions within him.

 The car is filled with a tense silence as William navigates the quiet streets, the weight of the evening's events pressing down on them. Raven's nod is almost imperceptible in the rearview mirror, but William sees it. His hand tightens on the steering wheel, his knuckles white. "I know this is hard, Raven," he says, his voice measured and calm. "But we're going to do everything in our power to make sure you're never hurt again."

 "I hope you're right, Mr. Jones." Raven whispers her hope into the stillness of the car, her voice barely a breath. She can feel the warmth of the seatbelt against her cheek as she leans into the cool window, the vibration of the car lulling her into a state of numbness. The world outside is a blur of lights and shadows, a stark contrast to the stark reality she's just faced. With a tremble, she closes her eyes, the orange hoodie clutched to her chest like a talisman. The fabric is rough against her skin, but it's a comforting roughness, a piece of her mother she can hold onto in the vast unknown ahead.

 Hearing the hope in Raven's voice, William nods solemnly in the rearview mirror. "We will, Raven," he reassures her, his own voice tight with emotion. He turns his gaze back to the road, his eyes narrowing as he navigates through the twilight streets. The silence in the car is a thick, palpable presence, a testament to the gravity of the situation. Each mile they put between themselves and that house feels like a victory, yet the weight of her words hangs in the air, a silent reminder of the trust she's placed in them.

: Sensing Raven's exhaustion, Peter pulls out his laptop, the blue light casting a soft glow on his face. He begins typing up a report of the day's events, his hands moving with surprising deftness for someone so clumsy. His thoughts are a tumultuous storm, but he forces himself to focus, his heart aching with every keystroke that recounts the horrors Raven has suffered. The rhythmic clack of the keys and the occasional sigh are the only sounds in the car, a stark contrast to Raven's quiet breaths from the back seat.

***

Over the next four days, William and Peter work tirelessly on Raven's case, piecing together the puzzle of her tragic past. They manage to find a small, cozy house in Sherbet Hills, Nevada, a place that seems to promise a brighter future. The journey is long and fraught with tension, but William's stoic presence and Peter's gentle humor help to ease the tension. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the town as they pull up in front of a quaint, pastel-colored house.

William parks the car outside the house, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of trouble. "This is it, Raven," he says, his voice filled with a mix of hope and determination. "Your new home." He turns to look at her in the rearview mirror, and despite her fear, he sees a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "It's safe," he assures her. "We've checked it out ourselves."

 Raven sits in the backseat, her eyes locked on the charming, pastel-painted house. The warmth of the sunset wraps around the building like a gentle embrace, and the quiet street seems to whisper promises of peace. She's wearing her mother's orange hoodie, the fabric soft and familiar against her skin. The sweatpants, too big for her, are a comforting reminder of a time before fear had etched itself into her every movement. With trembling fingers, she clutches the seatbelt, her breath held as she takes in the sight. The house is smaller than she imagined, but it looks welcoming, with a tiny garden out front that holds the whisper of laughter and love long forgotten. She swallows hard, the fear and anticipation a potent cocktail. "It's... it's beautiful," she murmurs, her voice barely audible.

 William's stern features soften as he watches Raven in the mirror. He can see the hope flicker in her eyes, and for a brief moment, the weight of his responsibilities feels lighter. He nods in agreement. "It does, doesn't it?" He says, his voice gentle. "It's a place where you can start anew, Raven. A place to make new memories." He turns the car off and opens his door, the sound of the engine cutting through the quiet like a knife. He walks around the car to her side, opening the door with a creak. "Ready?"

 Raven looks up at William, her eyes wide and searching his face for reassurance. She nods, her breath catching in her throat. "Y-yes," she whispers. William's smile is genuine, if a little sad, as he reaches for her hand. The warmth of his touch is a stark contrast to the cold metal of the car door. He helps her out, her feet landing softly on the pavement. The house seems to lean in slightly, as if whispering secrets to her, secrets of a time before fear had painted its shadowy corners into her soul. She nods again, her voice barely above a murmur. "Looks like the old house when Mama was there." The joy that flits across her face is fleeting, replaced by a solemn resolve as she takes a step forward.

William nods solemnly, understanding the depth of her words. He watches as she slings the blue duffel over her shoulder, the bag seemingly heavier than the few possessions it holds. The action is a declaration of her readiness to move on, to carry the burden of her past with her but not let it define her. "Let's go," he says, his voice firm yet gentle. They walk up the path to the house, the sound of their footsteps a symphony of hope against the silence of the evening. The door creaks open, revealing a cozy living room with a plush couch and a warm, welcoming fireplace. The smell of freshly baked cookies wafts from the kitchen, a beacon of comfort in the sea of uncertainty.

: Raven's eyes widen at the sight of the young woman with strawberry-blonde hair and warm brown eyes, who appears from the back door, her smile as bright as the setting sun. She looks like a beacon of warmth in this unfamiliar place. The woman's eyes light up with kindness as she sees the little girl, and she takes a few steps forward, her movements graceful despite the weariness that seems to cling to her. "Hello, Raven," she says, her voice a gentle melody that fills the room. "I'm Lila, and I'm here to make sure you're all settled in." Raven feels a spark of hope ignite within her, a flicker of trust that she hasn't allowed herself to feel in a very long time.

 Raven's heart skips a beat as the woman, Lila, speaks to her, her words a soothing balm to the girl's soul. She nods slowly, her grip on the orange hoodie tightening. "Hi," she murmurs, her voice tentative. Then, a young man with a boyish grin and the same warm eyes enters the room, and she feels a strange sense of comfort wash over her. He's tall, with messy hair and a lanky build, his eyes lighting up when they land on Raven. "And I'm James," he says, extending a hand. "Welcome to your new home."

 William Jones nods approvingly at Lila and James, the couple that the CSRD has vetted and approved to care for Raven. Their warm demeanor seems to fill the house with a sense of peace that was absent from her previous life. He watches as Raven lifts her small hand in a wave, a bleak smile playing on her face. It's a smile that speaks volumes of her past pain and the tentative hope for a better future. William's heart aches for the little girl, but he knows that this is the first step toward healing. "Thank you, both of you," he says, his voice filled with gratitude. "Raven, are you ready to see your new room?" He keeps his gaze on her, his hand steady on her shoulder.

 Raven nods, her eyes never leaving James and Lila. She clutches her mother's hoodie tighter as William leads her up the narrow staircase, the wooden treads creaking underfoot. The walls are lined with family photos, and she wonders if she'll ever have pictures of herself and her mother displayed in such a loving way. At the top of the stairs, they turn left, and William opens the door to a small, but cozy, room painted in the soft hues of lavender and mint. The bed is made up with fresh, fluffy sheets and a plush comforter, and there's a window with a view of the small garden below. "It's all yours, Raven," William says, his voice gentle.

 Raven's eyes widen, taking in the serene sight of her new room. The tears that have been threatening to spill finally escape, tracing shimmering paths down her cheeks. With a sudden burst of emotion, she throws her arms around William's neck, the orange hoodie crumpled between them. The gesture is new for her, a foreign sensation of trust and relief she's not used to feeling. William's own eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly wraps his arms around her in a firm, comforting hug. "It's okay," he whispers into her ear, his voice a soothing rumble. "You're safe now."

: The dam of Raven's composure breaks, and she buries her face into William's shoulder, her small body trembling with the force of her sobs. "Th-thank you," she gasps out, her voice muffled by the fabric of his suit. The words come in between hiccups and sniffles, a heartfelt expression of gratitude for the sanctuary she's been given.

 William's arms tighten around Raven, his eyes closing briefly as he feels the weight of her fear and relief. He pats her back gently, his own emotions a tumultuous storm beneath his stoic exterior. "You're welcome, Raven. Remember, you're not alone anymore." He whispers the words into her hair, his heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness he hasn't felt in a long time.

Raven pulls back slightly, her eyes still brimming with tears. She sniffs and looks up at William with a mix of hope and trepidation. With a tremulous smile, she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing the trails of moisture on her cheeks. The fabric of the orange hoodie is damp with her tears, but she doesn't let go of it. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice a tremulous echo in the quiet room. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Jones."

Author's Note

ignore grammar issues, lol

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[Alice Reiht]

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