The Guardian

her life. She would devise ways of making sure that she did nothing wrong, she’d develop a sixth sense of sorts. Her hearing would be so astute that she knew to listen for creaking doors, foot steps in the hall, how to hide and avoid situations. Her behavior would change to the point that she would do what ever was necessary to keep from being beaten or abused. The only thing she couldn’t do was keep him from coming into her room. There was nowhere to hide in her room that he couldn’t find her. That was the worst thing of all.
    She knew she was probably going to be beaten anyway for bringing it this far. But maybe if he saw that she wasn’t telling them, maybe he wouldn’t be so mean to her.
    The stepfather was given probation, told to attend counseling with the child and they were sent home.
    Outside the courtroom people went on about their business, no one paying them any attention. Inside, it was the next case, just like an auto factory production line. To the judges, the clerks, the bailiffs, and the rest it was just a day at the office. Nobody cared.
    He followed them home. It was a little after four in the afternoon. It was the typical Las Vegas, 112 degrees in the shade. The humidity from the past weeks rains was all but gone or it would have been worse.
    As he watched he knew that the so called stepfather would be very careful not to do anything out in public, to do anything as stupid as to give a credible witness the chance to burn him.
    So, the Guardian watched. He had patience too. He would wait, and watch and then this one too would know the truth. It was only a matter of time.
    Chapter 19
    It was well into the night, after two in the morning. Staying in the shadows, moving along the shrubs and bushes, he kept in close to the house. The Guardian moved to the back and crept up to the back door, with him his bag of tricks.
    Having checked the situation thoroughly before hand, he knew there weren’t any dogs. There was a small grave in the back yard with a make shift cross. Buried there was probably the pet they used to have. He imagined the stepfather mercilessly killing the pet for no reason other than to punish the little girl.
    He picked the lock and quietly opened the door. All you could hear was the ticking of the clock on the wall in the kitchen.
    He moved through the house. He scanned for anything that may surprise him or be harmful to him.
    Moving through the house his light shone upon a small figure in the middle of the room. Lying, naked, spread eagle, on her back was the little girl. Her mouth covered with duct tape, her face, arms, legs, and chest bloody and bruised. There were new damages that the father had done. Tears in her eyes, she looked up. There was a longing, pleading look as if to say, “Save me, please!”
    Ropes around her feet and wrists, he had stapled the ropes to the floor. Lying next to her were two 1 X 3’s, one broken in two with bloodstains on it.
    He knelt down beside her. He had tears in his eyes too as she looked up at him. She had her tears, but there wasn’t any fear in these eyes this time. It was a look of pleading, begging, and yearning for help.
    The Guardian gently placed his hand on the young girl’s cheek. He looked into her eyes, and said, “He won’t hurt you ever again.”
    He crept into her bedroom, snatching a blanket from the bed. The small boy sleeping in the other bed did not stir. He took the blanket out and covered her up with it.
    “I’ll be right back.” He said. “You don’t need to be scared anymore.”
    Quietly he crept into the father’s bedroom. The man lay there, snoring, dead to the world. He was not aware that his world was about to come crashing down on him.
    Next to him, his wife, also probably so badly beaten and abused that she allowed this to happen. Why couldn’t they understand? This didn’t need to go on. Well, it would stop. It would stop now. Maybe it wouldn’t stop for all of them. Right now, the reign of terror from this man was over.
    Standing at the foot of the bed, he shone the light in the man’s face. He waited for the reaction, waiting for this piece of shit to wake up. He would realize that he had met his match.
    The man started to move, with a hand over his eyes, he rolled over and sat up. At that precise moment, 50,000 volts slugged him right in the chest.
    He convulsed, twitched, and folded up into a fetal position. The wife, realizing that something was wrong was about to scream. The Guardian was