Chapter 65

There were six photos in total, the first three were black and white, and they looked pretty old.

The first one.

A bunch of kids, naked, eyes shut tight, lying all over the place. Someone in the corner had their head turned, face blurry, but they were wearing a thick coat, which meant... these kids were already dead.

I was taken aback. I thought of the story Lally told before; now it seemed she left out some parts.

The second one.

A group of kids in brand new clothes, sitting in rows on chairs, smiling, holding signs with prices on them.

The third one.

A big yard, surrounded by high walls, all the windows had iron bars, like they were trying to keep the kids from escaping. Behind the house, there was an old, abandoned building, the photo was blurry, hard to make out.

I got it now, no wonder there was no sign of an orphanage near Sand Village, not even within a 12.4-mile radius. Lally was sugarcoating the past when she told the story, this wasn't an orphanage at all! This was a hellhole for child trafficking!

I had seen stuff like this on the news before. These kids were either kidnapped from villages or snatched off the streets.

I looked back at the first photo carefully. Even though it was blurry, I could still see bloodstains and knife wounds on the bodies, and a shiny surgical tray on the table in the lower left corner.

Not just child trafficking, but organ trafficking too!

But when I turned to the remaining three photos, I was in shock, almost fell, and sat on the bed.

These three photos were in color, Lally was naked, being abused by different men, with various tools, leaving marks on her body, covered in scars and bodily fluids. Her eyes were so desperate, hollow, lying on the bed, on the sofa, like a dead person.

Lally, in the three photos, looked very young, at most fifteen years old, which meant that around the time she and Duke left the child trafficking camp, Lally was suffering inhuman torture and abuse.

If Lally was like this, then what about Duke, Zack, Frank, Bob, Mike, Laura, and Alan? What exactly did she mean by betrayal, what did Laura do to them? And, revenge, who did "they" refer to?

"Mrs. Smith, let's go," Zoey said with trembling eyes, these photos really scared her.

I hugged Zoey, comforted her for a while, waited for her to calm down, put the floor and bedside table back in place, and put the photos and letter in the bag.

I held Zoey's hand tightly and went out of the community. She didn't say a word the whole way, and when we were far away from the community, she suddenly hugged me and cried loudly.

Each photo was a bloody crime. She had seen Lally at the Entertainment Club, thinking that was a misfortune, until she saw the place in the photos, the piles of corpses, child organ trafficking, or being priced as commodities, or Lally being abused.

Alan also came out of this place. How much suffering and hardship he endured, coming out of hell, still retaining kindness and purity, warming everyone, wanting to pull out every struggling person from hell.

Lally, Duke, Tony, Tom, Frank, Laura... among the people I had met, everyone's feelings and admiration for Alan, I truly felt it at this moment.

"God turned into a little boy." This sentence was not wrong at all. At this moment, I was not sad, but more proud and fortunate.

I didn't know where I found the strength, maybe it was from Alan. I gently patted Zoey's back, comforting her for a long time.

Her sobbing gradually subsided, and she wiped her tears away.

"Mrs. Smith, I got your clothes all wet," Zoey pouted, her eyes red.

I asked, "Are you not scared anymore?"

"As long as you're here, Mrs. Smith, I'm not scared," Zoey said firmly, but her confidence faded after a few seconds. She said softly, "Mrs. Smith, can I stay with you tonight? My mom's not home, and I'm a bit scared of being alone."

"I'd love to, but... one sofa can't fit two people," I smiled wryly.

Ever since Alan passed away, I never went into the bedroom again, sleeping on the sofa every night.

"Come to my house! No one's there! Mrs. Smith, you haven't been to my place yet!" Zoey's eyes lit up again.

After all, she was still a little girl, and her emotions came and went quickly. She had invited me many times before, but I always made excuses not to go, letting Zoey come to my place instead, mainly because I didn't like visiting others.

But tonight, Zoey was obviously scared. She was still young, and I worried she would be too scared to sleep alone at night. So, I thought for a moment and nodded.

Zoey was thrilled, saying her house had several sets of spare toiletries, no need to buy anything. She happily called a car, and it arrived quickly since there were few cars at night. Soon, we were at Zoey's house.

Zoey lived with her mother. I only knew her mom was in business and doing well, but I didn't expect it to be this good. This was a house her mom bought for Zoey, just a few minutes walk from the company.

Alan and I never cared much about material things, just enough was fine. But thinking back to what Howard had said about Ruben and Zoey not being a good match, it was no wonder Howard was worried. It really was... quite a difference. Ruben's chances seemed slim.

After quickly washing up, we slept in the same bed, with two quilts because Zoey kicked the quilt at night, so she prepared an extra one for herself.

Zoey leaned towards me, tightly wrapping the quilt around her neck, only her head exposed, looking at the ceiling light.

She said slowly, "Mrs. Smith, I used to see in TV shows and novels that people who come out of hell eventually turn bad. They have dark, extreme personalities, strong suspicion, and don't trust anyone, but it seems different in reality."

"How is it different?" I asked gently.

"Take Lally, for example. Let me think about how to say it. She carries a light, in my view, there's an innate, unparalleled confidence in life. But after getting to know her, I found out she wasn't born like this," Zoey's voice lowered.

I said slowly, "There are always some people who don't believe in fate. They are strong and brave, fight to the end, and come out of the darkness. But at the same time, they are not limited to this. They reach out, passing the light in their hands to others, bringing every crying, sorrowful child out of the mire, out of the darkness, out of hell, to feel the beauty of the world, showing them the other half of the world. This is great courage, no, this is a gift, innate. Human nature should be like this, just like..."

"Just like God turned into a boy, walking among people," Zoey smiled and said warmly.

"He is not God, he is just an ordinary person, my husband, Alan," I replied.

I found I could face Alan's departure calmly. A person's departure was not the disappearance of the body, I understood this. What he gave me was quietly sprouting.