Carefully walking to the door, I stop one more time to look at the damsel in my apartment, curious what her life must have been like to land her in such a situation. I don’t know the first clue what to do with her. Maybe I should give her some money and set her on her way after breakfast? Sighing, I step out. I don’t fucking know.
Having enough for one night, I decide to head to my room. The feeling of betrayal and frustration of my father causes me to undress with force. I kick off my shoes, then my pants, jacket, until I reach my holster and my gun on the nightstand, then I unbutton my shirt and toss it behind me. My clothes leaving a trail behind me on the bedroom floor, I climb into my own bed wearing nothing but my briefs. Staring up at the ceiling fan, my arms under my head, I think about the girl in just the other room. How old is she? Should I be sleeping with a stranger in the house? Worst case, she’ll wake up and run, which I offered her in the first place. Her leaving would be for the best. Surely she has family, or friends that are missing her. Yawning, exhaustion making my lids feel heavy, I roll over onto my side. In the morning, I’m calling Kieran and telling him I’m out. More than likely he’ll offer me a position under him, or he’ll tell me to run. Kieran has a crew to protect him from our father, I don’t. Leaving will be a disrespect my father will take personally and he’ll get his wish he’s wanted since the day he’s laid eyes on me. He’ll finally have an excuse to kill me.
The Girl
The foreign softness from underneath me has me stirring awake. Frantically, I push myself up with my hands and find myself in a dark room. I’m on a bed, a very nice bed judging by the soft material underneath me. I instantly feel guilty for being on it as dirty as I am. When I was a kid, I lived in an orphanage for years and they had us scrub our hands and feet with a brush until they were red and raw before bed. Despite how clean they wanted us to be, it smelled like a hospital, unlike here where it smells of clean laundry. I inch my legs off the bed until my feet hit cool floor, wooden planks beneath my toes sending goosebumps up my legs. Where am I? I remember the older man saying sold. So I had to have been bought, but I was given to a younger man like a damn gift. My eyes fill with tears as I think about belonging to someone, I slightly remember the man I was given to despite the dark. He was tall, he wore a suit that fit him so well I could see just how strong he was. But he was angry, I remember that. Only I couldn’t really hear him from the other girls crying inside the van to make out why. Maybe he’s not happy with the way I look, or didn’t want me. Nobody wants me.
Jesus, will he play out his darkest fantasies with me, making me his personal play doll? Will he resell me? Kill me? A sob escapes my lips and I carefully press my hand to my mouth to stifle my sobs. I need to hold it together, he put me in here without restraints, right? That’s got to be a good sign. My eyes land on some folded clothes at the end of the bed, I run my fingers across them but I don’t change. If I smell of sour body odor, maybe he won’t touch me. Hopefully. Crossing the room, I notice the bedroom door is open, curiosity gets the best of me and I peek through the ajar crack, my heart beating so hard in my chest I anxiously feel the need to pee. It’s dark and quiet out there. I don’t see anyone, or hear anything. I push the door open a couple of inches and then freeze, nervous my little movement might have been heard and someone is coming. Nothing.
I push it open farther and wander into the hall, there’re dim lights installed into the lower wall guiding me until the front door is right in front of me. I stop. It’s dark-colored with a peephole in the middle. Light slipping through the cracks like a beacon of light inviting me to come forth, whispers of freedom just on the other side making my nails curl into my palms. My eyes fall to the silver knob, my feet moving on their own accord until my fingers are inches away. I still, my fingers splayed open as they hover over the knob. I shouldn’t go out there. I don’t know where I am. I have no money, or shoes at that. I know what’s in here, him; but out there is uncertain. What if the keepers are just outside this door waiting to track me down and put me back into a cage? Where would I go? I have nobody to run to. My right foot takes a gentle step back, before I am quickly shuffling away from the door which now resembles something from a horror movie, a closet harboring demons on the other side rather than my escape to freedom.
Turning around, my hands to my chest I find a kitchen. Curiously I look around. Lights on the stove
