“I can do clothes and food.” His face remained passive. “Anything else, little Leigh? I want my newest employee to be happy.”
I wanted to throw up.
“No, that’s fine.”
“Get settled. Sleep if you need to. I’ll be back soon.” He left the room. I heard a lock clunk shut on the other side.
I fell back onto the comforter and stared up at a ceiling fan.
Three hours ago, I was sitting in the back office of my little retail shop. I designed and sold t-shirts and custom shoes. People could drop off their Vans or whatever other sneakers, and I’d draw designs on them. When Owain broke into my shop, I was doing a Snoopy design for a customer and trying not to think about my dead brother.
I closed my eyes.
Fucking Jason.
I had no clue, but I should’ve known.
He’d always had problems, all through school. My dad died when we were just kids and that set him off. He spiraled after that, and my mom was too busy working all the time to support us to do anything about it. She tried, but she was way in over her head. I couldn’t do much, since he was four years older than me, and we were never that close. So he got into trouble all the time and sort of drifted away, doing his own thing.
I heard from him sometimes. Saw his social posts online. He was in San Francisco, Florida, Denver, Texas. He traveled across Thailand. He lived in Japan for a few months.
Then a couple years ago, he showed back up in Philadelphia with a proposal.
I design the shirts and run the store, and he’ll do the business end. He raised the money, found the store front, and did all the advertising. Business was going surprisingly well, and I was too stupid to ask him who was investing and where the money was coming from.
Fucking Jason screwed me. He screwed me and himself.
I could still see him slumped over in the back room, sitting on the floor behind the desk, a needle stuck in his arm. He must’ve died in his sleep. That was what the coroner said at least.
It broke my mother’s heart. She didn’t cry at the funeral, but I think she’d already cried all her tears.
I wanted to be sad he was gone. Three hours ago, I was sad. I was devastated and trying to figure out how I was going to save the business I’d worked so hard to build with him.
And now my feelings are a little more complex.
Fucking Jason got all our money from the mafia. Or whoever this Owain guy was.
I was screwed, I was so screwed. I couldn’t be a prostitute. I barely had any experience with guys. And now that bastard was going to sell me to men until I could pay off two hundred thousand dollars.
I tried to imagine how long that would take.
Months. Years. An entire lifetime. It didn’t matter, so long as he got paid.
God damn. I was going to die in this room.
Owain didn’t come back right away. A small clock glowing red letters on the nightstand ticked down the time. An hour passed, then two, then three. I found clean towels in the bathroom and took a shower just for something to do. I put my old clothes back on and paced around the room, trying to come up with some way to escape.
The drawers were all empty in the bureau. The nightstand held a bible and some gum.
I thought I could shatter the vase and use the pieces to cut him.
But Owain could rip me to pieces. That much was obvious.
He was six inches taller and probably a hundred pounds heavier.
Still, I had to do something. I couldn’t end up this bastard’s whore.
Even though my brother owed him money, that didn’t mean he could take me and use me like this.
More time ticked past. And I got mad.
Eventually, around seven that night, I heard a sound outside. The floor creaked. I threw myself across the room and stood behind the door, heart racing. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I had to try something.
The lock thunked. The door creaked open.
“Little Leigh,” Owain said. “Sorry it took me so long.” He stepped into the room but didn’t see me. I stared at his back. He held a plate in one hand and a duffel bag in another. He put the bag down on the floor and the plate on the bed. He tugged at the comforter.
I made a break for it. I ran around the door and threw myself out into the hallway. I slipped on the floor and smashed against the far wall, but kept running. The walls were white and mostly bare. I heard a TV on downstairs. I reached the top step and went to jump down—
Something iron hard grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. I let out a primal scream of rage and pain.
Owain pushed me up against the wall and pinned me there.
“Now, now,” he said, voice soft. “Come on, little Leigh. That was your escape attempt.”
“Fuck you,” I said.
“You barely got to the steps. You should’ve tried to hurt me first. Maybe broken the mirror and stabbed me.”
“What do you want from me?”
The pressure on my wrist lightened ever so slightly. “That’s what I’m here to discuss.”
I felt my heart racing in my chest. I wanted to scream, or groan, or fight.
But I couldn’t move and his lips were inches from my neck.
“Do you want to hear what your job will be?” he asked.
“I already know what you want from me.”
He laughed and stepped back. I turned around, rubbing my arm.
“You have no clue. Now get back in that room. We need to have a conversation.”
I hesitated. The last place I wanted to be was back in that room, but I didn’t have any options.
He smiled at me. He knew I was screwed
So I turned and did as he asked. I
