Chapter 4

Grace adjusted the strap of her schoolbag, it weighed heavily on her small shoulders cutting into them through her school blazer. She listened to the leaves scrunched under her feet, the morning air still cold and crips.

She enjoyed the temporary solitude of this walk through the deserted park on her way to school. The squirrels were so much nicer company than the bullies she would soon have to face again, for hours on end.

Grace paused, her blonde eyelashes fluttering as she caught a movement in the corner of her eye. The park was always empty this early, but today, there was someone.

An old man stood near a large oak tree, his fluorescent jacket bright against the dull morning light. A council worker, maybe? His cap was pulled low, his jacketsleeves rolled up, revealing forearms corded with veins, thick and rough. He glanced at her, and for a second, their eyes met.

Then, he smiled. Grace hesitated, then smiled back, small, polite. A wave, a nod, nothing to fear. He didn’t look like the girls who laughed at her, who made her life misery. He looked harmless. Almost kind.

She turned away, her shoulders relaxing just a little. She couldn’t understand why her mother always warned her about strange men, in her experience, the only tormenters she ever experience were girls her own age.

Pembroke’s smile deepened as he watched Grace walk away, her blonde ponytail bouncing with each step. She hadn’t recognized him from their earlier encounters. The disguises were working well.

His eyes traced the swing of her frilly plaid skirt, the way it rose up to reveal the pale stretch of her thighs, the sharp jut of her knobby knees, the delicate ankles peeking above her small white socks. Her calves were tight, slim, the muscles tense with the nervous energy of a young schoolgirl.

So young. So unaware, he thought. A perfect, breakable thing.

Pembroke exhaled, slow, controlled. This seemed like a good place to take her, but he needed a plausible narrative for her disappearance. He needed to be patient.

---------- Grace tried to concentrate on her times tables and ignore the other girls messing about. One of her many bullies, Chloe, blue haired and tall, was playing porn on her phone, loudly.

The grunting and wet slapping filled the classroom. The other girls crowded in, laughing, pointing, their faces twisted with sick excitement.

“Fuck, look at that dick!” Chloe cackled, shoving the phone closer to Grace’s face. “Bet you’ve never even seen one, have ya, Twiglet?”

Grace jerked back, her stomach lurching. “Stop it!” she cried, pressing her hands over her ears.

Chloe’s eyes gleamed. “Ohhh, poor little virgin freak,” she cooed, mocking. “Bet you don’t even know where babies come from, do ya?” The girls howled, slapping the desks.

“She’s probably got a smooth little pussy like a kid’s!” one of them shouted, grinning.

“Nah, bet it’s all sewn up!” another laughed, miming stitching between her legs. “Like a fuckin’ doll!”

Chloe leaned in, her breath reeking of cheap vape and sour candy. “You ever even touched yourself, Grace?” she sneered. “Or do you just sit there like a good little girl, all dry and useless?”

Grace trembled. “Shut up!” she whispered, tears burning her eyes.

“Aww, is the baby gonna cry?” Chloe taunted. “Maybe if you watched instead of whining, you’d learn something!” She thrust the phone closer, the moans from the video loud, obscene. “Look! This is what a real cock looks like!”