Navy
Take her. Those two words tumble around in my head. My stomach grows sick. Bile burns the back of my throat. I am going to be sick. I gag and lurch forward.
“Boss, she’s gonna be sick,” I hear from the front seat.
A brown bag floats in front of my face.
“Pull over,” I manage to squeak out.
“Use the bag.” It’s not J.J.’s voice but the other man.
I shake my head. The panic makes the torrent of pain ripping through my abdomen escalate until it’s too much to take.
“Pull…” I’m unable to get the next word out before I wretch, then hot, acidic puke pours out into the bag. Through the heaving, I flinch and do my best to curl up into a ball. I am going to get beat for making the cab of the truck reek of sickness. I know it’s coming even though none of it got on the interior of the truck.
I sit back. “Please no. Please no.”
I chant over and over, covering my face. I fight to calm down my thoughts and insides. Begging always makes it worse, yet I can’t stop. The two men say something to me over and over, but I don’t comprehend it. Not a single word.
When the truck comes to a halt, I think about running. There’s no way I have enough energy and don’t even have a place to go, not to mention the state of my feet. Jordan has owned me for years. He took away all my friends and loved ones. He’d for sure kill me if I ran back to him. He traded me to another violent guy who is a monster in his own right. Why can’t all this pain just stop?
The back door to the truck on my side swings open. I snap my mouth shut, knowing that anymore begging or pleading will earn more punishment. J.J.’s broad shoulders and towering frame fill the door. His eyes are dark and broody, his face tight with anger, and all it does is chill me to the core. He’s nothing like Jordan. He’s more powerful and determined. He could, and more than likely will, kill me.
He extends his arms out to me, and I scoot back, unable to control the whimpers escaping me. My heart rattles my sternum. The steady beat of it echoes in my eardrums. J.J. ignores my reaction, grabbing my thigh. His hand damn near wraps all the way around the top of my leg. He tugs me forward and then cradles me to his chest.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers into the top of my head, pulling me close to his chest.
They are the same words Jordan told me so many years ago, also coupled with kind and loving gestures. It causes my stomach to twist and turn into a bundle of tight knots. The tension is too much, causing my stomach to cramp and convulse until the bile creeps right back up my throat.
He steps once then begins striding. My head spins and rolls until I’ve lost all control of my own body. My soul is floating, the clouds begging it to fly up and away. I gag once then twice, not able to stop the vomit from spilling over. The putrid smell is an intoxicating reminder of my horrible life.
“Son of a bitch.” J.J. picks up his pace, cussing under his breath.
He’s going to kill me. I try to bring my hand to my mouth but can’t move it. I’m exhausted. Drained. And hopeless.
“Door,” J.J. roars.
I feel his leg jerk and then hear the sound of something splintering. How can I be scared when I just came from hell and survived every single day of it with Jordan? This is my destiny. I have no choice.
“Start the shower,” he orders again.
There’s a flash of bright light, then it’s dimmed. I feel my capris slip down my legs then I’m placed on a counter. I keep my gaze down toward the intricate black marble floor, not having the energy nor courage to face the man who now owns me. A black suit jacket tumbles to the ground, followed by a white dress shirt.
His fingers slip underneath my shirt and tug it over my head. He is going to rape me. I don’t fight him. I’m done with life.
“I am not going to hurt you, Navy.” He continues to peel away my clothes. “Please look at me.”
I don’t. It’s lies. All damn lies. I’ve choked on them the last several years.
“I’m going to shower you and get you fed.” He lifts me back in his arms.
His pants and glossy black cowboy boots are still on. The hot water hits my skin, making me sick all over again.
“Navy, you have to stop puking.” He brushes my bangs back from my forehead. “You are safe. I will not hurt you.”
“Too…too hot,” I stutter out. “I don’t like hot.”
I flick my gaze up to him. The tension has vanished from his features. I can’t figure out what has replaced it. I follow his line of sight. I swear tears begin to well up in his eyes before he jerks his vision away and grabs a bottle of soap. There’s a reason I don’t like heat. A damn good one. My scars speak for themselves.
“I’m here, boy.” A feminine voice drifts into the bathroom. A silver-haired woman pops her head in around J.J.’s torso. “Out. Now.”
“I’m going to set you down on the tiled bench, Navy.” He nods. “Faye is going to take care of you. There’s no need to be scared.”
He sets me down, each movement thought through and gentle. He steps out of the shower, running his hands through his hair.
“I told you to wait, boy.” Faye swats up at J.J.’s head, but she’s too short, barely connecting with his shoulder. “And you stink. Go shower.”
J.J. remains frozen in place, ignoring her order, running his hands through his thick dark hair. The haunted look on his face should scare me, but I’m far too exhausted. Faye steps into the shower, not batting an eye at my battered, naked form or the bits of puke in the bottom of the shower. She hums as she begins washing my hair. I can’t place the tune, but it soothes me. J.J. disappears after several minutes. My stomach still lurches, but I’m able to breathe through it.
Faye reaches up to turn off the cool water, now humming a new tune. She steps out of the shower only to return with a thick, black towel. She wraps it around my shoulders, rubbing her hands up and down it.
“Now, what would you like to eat?”
I peer up through my wet lashes. “Why would he feed me?”
“Because you are skin and bones, my dear, and it looks like you threw everything up.”
I stare at her, wordless, not able to comprehend what’s happening. She bends over until we are face to face. Her emerald green eyes immediately take me back to my childhood home to a time when I was loved, had a family, and had a safe place to live.
“J.J. is a protector. He’s gruff and upfront. A dickhead sometimes, but he’s a good guy. He gives with everything he has. He too was broken at one point in life.”
I soak in each of the words like the towel is doing to the droplets of water rolling off my skin. It’s the same speech Jordan suckered me in with, and I fell for it. And now I’m here.
Faye helps me up to my feet and walks me out into the bathroom. I use the counter to steady my weak legs underneath me. Faye points out fresh clothes and leaves the bathroom, telling me she’ll be back in five minutes. I let the thick, plush towel drop to the floor and stare at myself in the mirror. Each one of my ribs reflects back at me; the massive burn right below my breasts taunts me…I’m a shell of a person.
Jordan promised me death, and even though he’s not right here by my side, I know it’s not too far away. He began starving me a few months ago along with the punches and kicks.
I pull open a drawer, looking for a sharp object. It will be the most selfish thing I ever do. I can’t handle it anymore. It’s all too much. Death is seeking me unless I find it first. Cold metal connects with the flesh of my palm.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to my future, pulling open the handles to the piercing scissors, aiming them at my wrists.
The door opens. I freeze, turning to see J.J. in the doorframe. He steps toward me, smooth and not flinching at the sight. His large palm takes the scissors from my hands and places them on the marble counter. The clattering sound is downright deafening.
“Faye is making you soup. She sent me after you.” He pulls the extra-large men’s white t-shirt from the counter, tugging it over my head. He dresses me as if I’m a newborn baby, easing my arms through the armholes. “Kemp has gone out to get you some new clothes. My boxers or sweats would drown you even if you tried rolling them up.”
His vision flicks back down to the scissors, and I follow suit. I was so close to making this all end.
“I’m going to hug you, Navy. I think you need a hug.” Muscular arms wrap around my shoulders. He once again pulls me into his chest. The scent of my illness no longer lingers on him, replaced with a sweet yet musky mandarin smell. It’s light, not overwhelming.
“I won’t allow you to hurt yourself, Navy. All sharp objects will be removed. I brought you here to heal.”
Lies.
J.J. pulls away and guides me through several hallways until we reach an open kitchen. The bright lights, intricate detail of the finest appliances, and rich marble that covers every surface does not impress me. It does the opposite. Jordan had all of this. Money, power, and greed were all hidden layers under the flashy mansion.
Faye is still humming, scooping out ladles full of soup. “Here you go. Now have a seat at the island. What would you like to drink?”
I shake my head side to side.
“Nonsense. I’ll force feed you if I have to.”
I feel J.J.’s presence behind me. His scent wraps around me in a gentle hug. Faye slides a bowl of chicken noodle soup over my way, some of the broth sloshing over the side onto the dark marble countertop.
I flinch.
Reeling back waiting for J.J. to explode, I sink down into myself, cringing. Nothing happens. I peer to the side to see J.J.’s bare feet padding across the pristine white tile floor. He takes a seat at the opposite end of the massive island in front of a laptop. We are in the same room, but it feels like we are continents away.
I study him as he places on a pair of reading glasses, the Clark Kent type that have thick black rims. They settle perfectly on the bridge of his nose. It takes me back to the days I’d watch Superman on the TV with my dad while Mom was bustling around our two-story house. Commercials included.
J.J.’s laptop demands all his attention. He’s not angry or looking for an outlet for his temper. Like I said, we are continents away. It’s a foreign feeling that reduces my existence to that of a stranger. Exactly what I am.
Faye urges me to eat the soup. I sip the broth, unable to take anything else in. She’s relentless and doesn’t give up on me. It’s a hard concept to digest, right along with the noodles and chicken.