Arsen brings me to his house, and it’s beautiful. I used to dream of living in such a grand and beautiful house someday. It is late in the day when we arrive, the sun just touching the horizon, bathing his home in a rich red glow.
He stops in the driveway, lets me dismount, and then walks his motorcycle into the garage. He invites me in, and I marvel at the beauty of his home. He shows me where I’ll sleep, then leaves me in the room. I use the bathroom before quickly looking in the other two rooms. One is set up like a home gym, while the other is clearly his bedroom. I return to the kitchen as he begins to cook. With only the two of us here I feel safe, safer than I have felt since…
My brain locks. I can’t remember how long I was held, ripped from my home in Flagstaff and used over and over for men’s pleasure. And then I’m back. Arsen places pills in my hand and orders me to take them. I hesitate, remembering being given drugs to make me compliant, but he encourages me and I swallow them one at a time.
The smells coming from the stove are divine, even better than the soup, and my mouth begins to water. As I watch he talks to me, and something clicks. I like to cook. I like to see the smiles of people as they taste what I’ve prepared. I have felt satisfied. I want to help, but before I can he removes the chicken from the pan, sliding it into soft flour tortillas, adding a spoon of salsa to each one, and then scooping beans onto the plate.
As he passes, he asks me to fetch him a beer. I do, and I decide to take one for myself as well. He smiles as he takes the bottles from me, opens them, and places one at each plate. He pulls a chair out and waits. I remember I’m supposed to sit when a man does that, and he slides me to the table.
The smell of the chicken makes my stomach growl, my mouth watering so much I’m afraid I’ll drool. I don’t touch the food until he bites into his, then looks up a me and motions his burrito at me. I pick one up and bite into heaven. It tastes so good I nearly weep with joy. I smile at him.
Arsen is a good man. He’d picked me up on the side of the road when no one else would, then fed me and gave me water. Now he’s feeding me again and sharing his beautiful house while offering me refuge.
When he asks my name I try to answer, I want to answer, but something is wrong with me and I can’t force the words. I try again, trying to say something, anything, but no sound escapes me.
I put my burrito down and I begin to weep in silent frustration and anger. I’m broken. I can’t even tell this kind man my name or how thankful I am.
He comforts me. I was afraid he would be angry, but he seems sad, as if he can sense my frustration. That makes me even more frustrated. With all he has done for me, all he’s asked in return is my name, and I can’t even give him that. I stare at my plate, ashamed, unworthy of the food he has given me, but he has moved on to another subject, as if my slight is already forgotten.
The food calls to me, and I pick up my burrito and begin to eat again. He smiles at me in approval and I eat the first burrito, then the second, finishing by cleaning my plate of the beans. For the first time in a long time, I’m not hungry, thirsty or afraid.
When he rises, I pick up my plate and carry it to the kitchen, setting it beside the sink. He smiles and nods his thanks. Again I want to help, but there is so little to do that he’s done loading the dishwasher before I can figure out how.
He steps around me, opening the refrigerator and pulling out another beer and a water, then moves to the couch. I’m disappointed he only got one beer, but then I remember his words about helping myself to a beer if I wanted. I think about it, but decide not to. The water is obviously intended for me, and I’m thankful for it. I move to the couch and sit beside him as he flips through movies on the largest television I have ever seen.
He finally picks something and we watch it. It’s a stupid movie, but I watch it without complaint. Being here, safe, my stomach full and my thirst quenched, watching a movie he wants to see, is enough. As the movie plays I start to feel sleepy. I lean into his side for support, and I like that his arm goes around my shoulder.
As the movie ends, I rouse myself, his question about going to bed briefly frightening me, but then I relax. He’s given me my own room, with a lock on the door, and I trust him to not hurt me. I follow him to his room and watch as he digs a long white shirt with Southwestern motifs on the back out of drawer. I take the shirt, toothbrush, and toothpaste from him. I can’t remember the last time I’d brushed my teeth. His kindness makes tears well up in my eyes yet again.
He shoos me away and I go to my room. I brush my teeth three times, running my tongue over the slick feeling teeth between brushings. I don’t shower, since I’d showered only a few hours before, but I do strip and change into the shirt. It hangs on me, but I’d had nothing but my dirty and smelly clothes for weeks until today. I run my hands over the smooth and soft fabric, bringing it to my nose to smell the freshness of it. I close and lock the door and then crawl into the bed. The fresh, crisp, cool linens feel wonderful, the mattress dreamily soft, but as I lay in the quiet of the house, the demons began to whisper to me.
I try to close them out, putting my tightly gripped fists over my ears, but I can’t silence them. I try to ignore them, but they won’t let me sleep. It has been so long since I could sleep.
I get up, pausing at the door, then silently open it. I go to Arsen’s room and wait at the door, afraid to enter. He appears to be asleep, but just thinking about having him near me silences the whispering fear. I cross the room and he starts awake. I almost turn and run back to my room, but his nearness draws me. I slide between the linens with him. I snuggle in close and a peace comes over me. I feel safe, truly safe, as his arms embrace me.
“Quinn,” I mumble, my name coming easily to my lips. I smile, relieved I’m able to finally answer his question, before the blessed darkness of sleep pulls its veil over me.
***
I wake with a start. Arsen is no longer in the bed with me. Panic rises within me. He’s left me! I try to call his name as I throw the linens back but all I hear is a wail. I run from the room, looking, searching desperate to find him, my own scream loud in my ears.