Better a Millstone

This one is what came out of a flashback. Accordingly, its a tough read, with sexual assault alluded to, so be careful.

Dr. Anthony Stagg walked out the prison gates, gave a sardonic salute to the guards, and got into the waiting taxi.

“Downtown.” The doctor said, and then gave the address of a cheap hotel.

When he arrived, he smiled a secret smile. He figured this place would make his parole officer happy, and that would be something to worry about for the next six months, and then he would be free of all restrictions.

He’d been a good boy in prison, and made the right noises at his mandatory counseling sessions (which was easy, since he had been a licensed psychologist prior to being caught), and thus knew he would make this hurdle as well.

“And once its over, I’ll get a pardon. If that stupid hockey coach could get one, anybody can.”

That was his long term plan - get a pardon so he could leave this benighted country and go find fresh territory to do his work with children.

And thinking about that work made his smile wider, as he snuck out the back of the hotel to go to the downtown bus terminal which was just a block away.

He was taking a small risk doing this, technically, a parole officer could come by the hotel and look through his stuff without notice, but he knew how many clients the officer was likely to have, and as long as he stayed inside the law publicly they were unlikely to search him for contraband.

He went into the bus depot, and looked around.

His lawyer was waiting for him.

The man didn’t speak, just handed him a key and backed away like Dr. Stagg was contagious.

Dr Stagg shrugged, and took the key and went to the bank of lockers. He took the key and put it into the appropriate locker, and opened the door. Inside was a group of binders, and he took one out, thinking “This one will do.” Then he closed the locker back up and put the key into his pocket, and taking the binder, went quickly back to his hotel room.

He carefully put the chain on the door, and went to the small bedroom to refresh his memory of the patient whose time with him was recorded in the binder. The first picture was of a sad-eyed boy, about seven or eight years old. The second picture was of the same person, but was dramatically different - in this one the child was wearing a dress and makeup, and beaming like they had just experienced their best day ever, which was pretty much the case.

What followed were a few pictures of his “treatment” for the child, and Dr. Stagg examined them carefully while masterbating.

Once he had finished his “business” he read his notes on the child.

“My masterpiece ....”

Up until that particular patient, Dr. Stagg had “worked” mostly with hetrosexual boys. Nudging them around the corner to where they would suit his needs took some doing, but this child .........

No boy had ever told him about wanting to be a girl before, and the prospect excited the doctor greatly.

It had taken him only two sessions to get the boy in a dress, and only 2 more to start breaking the child, and maybe a half-dozen more to finish the job.

By the end he had become the perfect plaything, the ideal toy.

His control over the child was so great that even after he’d been arrested and charged, the child refused to come forward.

Maybe when his probation was done, he could look up the child, maybe even convince him/her to come with him when he left the country.

He smiled at that thought, took the folder and carefully hid it under his mattress, and got ready for bed.

Thus he was distracted when the first warning signs hit, and within minutes, it was too late.

Dr. Stagg had left this world ....

The next thing the doctor was aware of, he was standing in what looked like a courtroom again, and the charges of child abuse were being read.

He wanted to object, say he’d already been tried for those crimes, but he found his mouth wouldnt open.

The Judge looked at him, and rang down the gavel.

“Guilty!”

Dr. Stagg blinked, and the courtroom was gone. In its place was what looked like his old office but the perspective seemed wrong somehow.

Then he saw the man who was smiling while sitting on a chair, and Dr. Stagg’s blood went cold.

It was him.

Then Dr Stagg looked a mirror in one corner, and saw the face of the child whose photo he had been looking at only a short while before, and finally understood what his punishment was to be.

He would relive his “treatment” of this child, and all the other children, but from their point of view.

Over and over again, for all eternity.

Sadly for him, only his mind screamed ....

“But whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in Me to stumble, it would be better for him to have a heavy millstone hung around his neck, and to be drowned in the depth of the sea.”

Matthew 18:6