The bus driver notices a CRYING girl every day, looks under the SEAT after getting off and FAILS at what he sees…

Step away from the girl, an officer ordered, his weapon trained on Greg. Greg’s face contorted with defiance. This is all a misunderstanding, he insisted, not moving from his position over Rory.

Last warning, the officer said firmly. Step away now, or we will use force. With deliberate slowness, Greg reached for a bottle of alcohol on a nearby shelf.

You don’t understand, he began, his hand closing around the neck of the bottle. Drop it, several officers shouted in unison. Drop it now, or we will shoot.

For a tense moment, it seemed Greg might try something desperate. Then with a curse, he let the bottle fall back onto the shelf and raised his hands. On your knees, the officer directed again.

Finally, Greg complied, sinking to his knees. Officers moved in quickly to secure him with handcuffs. As they led the men out one by one, Greg’s gaze locked on Walter, standing outside.

His face twisted with rage, and with a sudden burst of strength, he lunged toward Walter, nearly breaking free from the officer’s grip. You! This is your fault, he shouted, attempting to headbutt Walter before the officers restrained him fully. Walter stepped back, shock coursing through him at the man’s violence.

He watched as the officers secured Greg in one of the patrol cars, the man still hurling obscenities through the window. Inside the shed, Rory remained huddled on the floor, her arms wrapped protectively around herself as an officer gently approached her. Within twenty minutes of the arrests, the quiet park had transformed into a flurry of official activity.

Two additional police cars had arrived, along with an ambulance and a vehicle carrying a social worker. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off the area around the shed, and officers were taking statements from Walter and the two joggers who had helped intervene. The paramedics had guided Rory to sit at the back of the ambulance, where they were checking her vital signs and offering her a blanket, despite the mild evening temperature.

A female social worker sat beside her, speaking in gentle tones that Walter couldn’t hear from where he stood. Walter watched as the two joggers finished giving their statements. They nodded to him as they departed, one giving him a respectful thumbs-up.

Walter felt profound gratitude for their intervention, strangers who had chosen to get involved when they could have simply walked away. As the police finished recording his own statement, Walter saw Rory glance in his direction. Her eyes, still red from crying, held a new expression.

Tentative gratitude. She said something to the social worker, who nodded and motioned for Walter to approach. Walter walked over slowly, not wanting to overwhelm the girl after all she had been through.

Thank you, Rory said quietly, as he reached the ambulance, her voice hoarse from crying. Walter nodded, his throat tight with emotion. I’m just glad you’re safe now.

He crouched down to be at her eye level, then reached into his waste bag and carefully withdrew the pills he had found earlier. He showed them to Rory and the officials present. Rory, he said gently, I found these under your seat on the bus.

I think you need to explain to these people about these pills if you were taking them because of what your stepfather was doing to you. Rory’s face crumpled at the sight of the pills, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. She looked between Walter, the social worker, and the female police officer who had joined them.

It’s okay, Rory, the social worker assured her. You’re not in trouble. We just need to understand what’s been happening, so we can help you.

Rory took a shuddering breath and began to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. My mom divorced my real dad last year, she began. He got in trouble with the police for fraud or something…