The kind man’s name is Arsen, and he’s angry with me. When the woman started taking my pants off, I panicked. I’m sorry for what I did, but I can’t find my words. He orders me to take my pants off. I want to do as he asks, but I’m afraid. He hasn’t lied to me yet, but he’s never asked me to expose myself before.
I begin to cry, unable to hold me tears, my fear washing over me like an ocean. He promises me nobody will hurt me, or try to fuck me, but I’m still afraid. He orders me again, his voice hard and demanding. Though I don’t want to, I take off my pants and open myself to him. He makes no move to take me, and the older man, the one they call Doc Holiday, crouches between my legs. I grip Arsen’s hand with all my strength, summoning my courage, placing all my trust in him.
Doc touches me and I flinch inside, but his touch is gentle. He doesn’t thrust his finger roughly inside of me as so many of the men did, and I wait, the tears running down my face. After a moment, he moves on, spreading my ass, but again, he doesn’t drive anything inside of me.
After a moment he rises and tells me I can dress. I pull my panties, shirt, and shorts back on, but I still feel violated. I draw my legs up, trying to make myself small, and I rock. The rocking, I found in the long nights, provided some small measure of comfort, and I return there, desperately seeking anything to comfort me, something to remove the pain.
Arsen sends Doc to look at Berk. Arsen said I bit him. I don’t remember that, but the guilt is still there.
He sits down on the bed beside me and speaks to me, telling me I can trust the people here with him. I want to trust them, but it’s so hard. Even the kind ones used me over and over for their own pleasure.
He puts his arm around me and pulls me into an embrace. After a moment I release my knees and slide my arms around him, holding him. I allow the tears to come, feeling safe and protected. I weep silently, tears running down my cheeks to soak into his shirt. I would sit there forever if he would hold me, but after too short a time, he slowly pushes me away. I cling to him and he relents, holding me again, but only for a moment more.
We enter the large room with the pool table, bar, and furniture. Doc is stitching up a man’s hand, probably the man I bit, with the woman I attacked sits beside him. Her throat is red and beginning to bruise, and again I feel guilty. I can’t meet her eyes as she glares at me. I want to apologize, to both of them, but I can’t utter the words. I try again, but the sounds won’t come.
It scares me that I can’t speak and I lean in close, drawing strength from Arsen.
As the doctor prepares to leave, everyone seems happy. This is a happy place, and I remember being in a place like this, a place where happy people gathered, and I was happy too. But that was a lifetime ago, and I despair of ever being happy again.
Arsen puts me in a chair and I sit, watching the people move about, laughing and talking. A few speak to me, and I try to answer, but can’t, and after a while they move off with a shrug. Arsen sits beside me. I’d used the restroom before I showered, but I needed to go again, all the water catching up with me. I try to ask to go to the restroom, straining with every fiber of my being to speak, but there is no sound. I can feel the tears coming, my frustration overwhelming me. I grip my fists tight, the sting of my palms like an old friend, and I pound on the arms of chair with my fists. He doesn’t try to stop me and I let my rage and frustration pour forth until my hands ache.
Finally, I stop, and I notice everyone is staring at me, and I shrink back in my chair.
“It’s okay,” he whispers softly, taking my hand in his own. He’s big man, towering over me, but he’s so gentle when touching me.
I rise and pull him to his feet, tugging him along to the room where I showered. I stop at the door and wait for permission to go.
“You need to go to the bathroom? Is that it? Go ahead. You don’t have to ask to do that. I’ll wait right here.”
I step inside and close the door. I relieve myself, shivering with the relief. I feel like such a fool. A mute, unable to even go to the bathroom by herself. I clean myself, flush, and meet him at the door. He smiles at me but I can’t meet his eyes and stare at the floor.
He tips my head up, forcing me to look into his eyes. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” he said softly. “You’re not our prisoner, you’re our guest. Help yourself to anything you want. Food, water, a drink.”
When he releases my chin, I look down again and sniff. He pulls me into a hug, softly stroking my head as I hold him.
After a long time, he again pushes me out of his embrace and leads me out of the bedroom. He gives orders that I’m sleeping in the clubhouse tonight. When one of the women, Cyra, offers to stay, I become worried. Arsen said to trust him, but I fret that he’s leaving me.
He takes me to the room where Doc Holiday examined me and tells me I’m sleeping here. I can accept that, the bed is far more comfortable than anything I’ve slept on in weeks, but when he says he’ll see me in the morning, I can feel my panic rising. I grip his arm, holding onto him. He tries to reassure me, but the more he insists I stay, the more the panic takes me.
I try to cry out my fear, to beg him to take me with him, but no words come. I begin to weep, clinging desperately to him, but when he escapes my grip, I retreat to a corner and try to make myself small. He’s leaving me and I can feel the darkness closing in around me again.