Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry.” I immediately forgave him, but I couldn’t make that fact obvious either. “I don’t own a car, so I had to walk. I was halfway here when I realized I forgot my wallet and I thought you might need my ID, so I went back to get it.”
“How far do you live from here?” I’d seen Dalton’s address in his file, but my mind was too distracted to figure out the distance.
“About four miles.”
Even though I was unsure how far he made it before turning around for his wallet, it was obvious that Dalton had walked many miles, which was a big deal for his human endurance. Worried that he was tired or sore, I told him to, “Sit down,” although it admittedly came out as more of an order than a concern. Dalton was quick to sit in the chair across from me, and I was curious if he was grateful for the rest, or if he was just trying to stay on my good side.
I gazed at him again, knowing that I needed to switch up my typical approach. Normally, the first visit with my parolees centered around what was expected of them, and making sure they didn’t reoffend. But with Dalton, I wanted to get to the source of why he committed the crime. I needed to know the inner workings of his mind, and find out how to support and love him during whatever he was going through.
I tapped the folder on my desk as I formed my thoughts before stating, “You just served time for arson.” Dalton nodded. “Walk me through the crime.”
His eyes left mine and turned to his hands, which fidgeted in his lap. It was an act I had seen many times, when men were wrestling with their past actions. It signified guilt and remorse; the men who didn’t react this way were the ones who worried me.
“I burned down a toy store,” he replied quietly. “I wasn’t aware that there was an apartment above it, or that anyone could get hurt or even killed. I thought I was just damaging a shop.”
I believed him; his body language gave no clues of betrayal, and I instinctively knew that my mate was incapable of purposefully hurting someone. But his words left me with the question, “Why did you want to damage the toy store?”
Dalton fidgeted again. “My brother bought a toy there.”
I would have been confused if I didn’t know of his brother Andy, and his relationship with Tage. I assumed that Dalton had a problem with their age play lifestyle, so I asked, “You were upset because of his age?”
“Partly,” Dalton shrugged. “But I was mostly upset because the toy was a doll.”
Since I wasn’t extremely close to Tage or Andy, that part surprised me, but I tried not to show it. “Why did the doll bother you so much?”
“Because my brother is a man. Men - or boys - aren’t supposed to play with dolls.”
“Why do you think that?”
Dalton’s eyes finally met mine again. “It’s a fact.”
“Who told you that?” He shook his head and looked away from me for a moment before looking back, but he gave no indication that he was going to answer me. So instead, I asked, “Why is it a fact? What’s wrong with a male playing with a doll?”
“Because it shows signs of weakness. Males are supposed to be strong and manly. If he was seen playing with a doll, the world would laugh at him; mistreat him. They’d beat him down and make him pay for it.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “Is that what happened to you?” No words came at first, but the flash of anger and hurt in his eyes was all the answer I needed. My heart broke for him, and I needed to know exactly what he’d been through, which pushed him to do what he did. “Is it?”
When he ignored me again, I knew it was time to bring a little toughness into the situation. I hated to do it, but it was necessary. Sometimes a wound needed to be opened so that it could properly heal.
“I’m the one man who controls whether or not you get tossed back into prison, so I suggest you answer me. No one is so triggered by a plastic doll that they burn down a fucking building, unless something happened in their past. So, tell me what happened.” Dalton’s breathing quickened, and I pressed harder. “Were you seen playing with a doll? Were you laughed at and mistreated? Beaten down? Taught a lesson? Who did it? What happened? Tell me!”
“Yes!” Dalton cried, jumping to his feet and looming over my desk. “Okay? Yes! When I was a kid, I didn’t have a single toy or game. I was alone most of the time because my mom was too coked out to know I was even in the apartment. She’d hide in her room either shooting up or fucking my piece of shit dad who came around once in a while for a fix and a hookup.