Chapter 6
Ema's
His hand was still wrapped around my throat. It was firm and unmoving, a constant reminder of how much stronger he was than me. I could feel the heat of his skin against mine. His thumb pressed down directly over my pulse, which was racing so fast I thought my heart might burst right out of my chest. I looked up into his eyes. They were dark, cold, and hard, like two pieces of polished stone. I tried to look away, but I couldn't move. Without warning, the tears began to fall.
They were hot and silent at first. I didn't want to cry in front of him, but I couldn't stop the moisture from gathering. Then, the tears spilled over and ran down my cheeks in steady lines. My vision blurred, making his face look like a dark, terrifying shadow.
"Please," I whispered. My voice sounded thin and broken, like a piece of dry glass. "Just let me go. I don't belong in a place like this. I didn't do anything to you. I don't even know who you are. Please... I just want to go home."
I thought my begging might make him feel sorry for me. Instead, I felt his fingers tighten. He didn't squeeze hard enough to choke me or stop my breath, but he did it just enough to show me he could. He wanted me to know how easy it would be for him to end my life right there. I felt a low growl start deep in his chest. It was a dangerous, heavy sound that I felt through the palm of his hand.
His jaw was clenched so tight that the muscles on the side of his face stood out. He looked at me with a look of pure, cold steel.
"There is no home for you to go back to anymore," he said. His voice was flat and empty of any emotion. "Your mother sold you to pay what she owed. The debt is finished now. That means you belong to me. You are my property, and you don't get a choice in what happens next."
I shook my head back and forth as much as I could. The tears were falling even faster now, soaking into the collar of my shirt. I didn't want to believe him. I couldn't believe it.
"No," I cried. "She wouldn't do that. She hates me sometimes, but she wouldn't sell me. She couldn't do that to her own daughter."
"She did," he said. He leaned in even closer. I could feel his warm breath against my lips. It smelled like the whiskey he had been drinking earlier. "She took the deal the moment it was offered. And you are going to stay right here until I decide to do something else with you."
Suddenly, he shoved me back.
He didn't do it with much force, but because I was already weak, I landed hard on the narrow bed. I scrambled away from him as fast as I could. I pushed my body back until my spine hit the cold, hard concrete of the wall. As I moved, the metal chain around my wrist snapped tight with a loud, ringing sound. It jerked my arm back, and I felt the metal cuff dig into my skin.
He stood over the bed for a moment, looking down at me. He was tall, angry, and looked like a giant in the small room. He didn't say anything else. He just turned around and walked toward the door.
He stopped for a second with his hand on the heavy metal handle. He looked back over his shoulder at me. He didn't offer any words of comfort or any more threats. He just gave me one last cold stare that made my stomach twist into a knot of pure fear.
Then, he walked out. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud that echoed through the small cell. I heard the lock turn with a finality that made my heart sink.
I stayed exactly where I was, frozen against the wall. My chest was heaving as I tried to get enough air into my lungs. My shirt was damp and cold from my tears. I looked around the room, but there was nothing to see except the gray walls and the dim light.
I thought about my life. It felt like my whole life had been nothing but different kinds of pain. I remembered the girls at school who picked on me. I remembered my mother's house and the sound of her hand hitting my face. I remembered the bruises and the slaps and the many nights I had spent crying myself to sleep, wishing that tomorrow would be better. I always thought that if I worked hard enough and stayed quiet, I would find a way out.
But this felt different. This didn't feel like a temporary problem. This felt final. It felt like the small flicker of hope I had been carrying inside me had finally broken and gone out.
Eventually, a heavy exhaustion washed over me. My body couldn't handle the stress anymore. I curled up on my side on the thin mattress and closed my eyes. I didn't even try to get under the blanket. I just wanted to stop thinking.
Sleep came quickly, but it wasn't peaceful. It was dark and empty.
…
A bright light burned through my eyelids, forcing me to wake up.
It was morning. I saw weak sunlight slipping under the bottom of the curtains, painting thin, dusty lines across the floor. My eyes felt heavy and swollen. My head throbbed with a dull ache, and my entire body felt stiff from the hard bed and the weight of the chains.
Then, I saw him.
He was sitting in a metal chair across the room from the bed. He had his elbows resting on his knees and his chin in his hands. He was just sitting there, watching me sleep. He had the same cold face and the same dark eyes as the night before.
I gasped and jumped back, trying to get away. The chain on my wrist pulled tight immediately, stopping me. I realized there was nowhere left for me to run. I was trapped in this small room with him.
He stood up. He moved slowly and carefully, like a predator that didn't want to scare its prey away just yet. Each step he took toward the bed made my heart race faster and faster. My breath came out in short, shallow gasps.
He stopped right in front of me and crouched down so he was at eye level. I flinched and squeezed my eyes shut, expecting him to hit me or grab me again.
I felt his fingers touch my wrist. They were warm and felt rough against my skin.
Then, I heard a soft metallic click.
The heavy cuff around my wrist opened up. It fell away and hit the mattress with a soft sound. I was free.
I stared down at my wrist. It was red, swollen, and had a deep mark from where the metal had been pressing into me all night. I rubbed it with my other hand, feeling the blood start to flow properly again. Then, I looked up at him. I was confused and terrified. I didn't know what to say, so I stayed silent.
He didn't speak either. For a split second, I saw something cross his face. It wasn't kindness, and it wasn't comfort. It was something else—something unsure and almost human. His hand lifted toward my face, hovering just a few inches away from my cheek. For a moment, it looked like he might reach out and wipe the dried tears from my skin.
But then he stopped. He pulled his hand back quickly as if he had touched something hot. He stood up straight and looked down at me with a stiff expression.
"Go take a bath," he said.
His voice was hard again. I blinked up at him, not sure if I had heard him correctly.
"What?" I asked.
"You heard me," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. He nodded his head toward a small, plain door in the corner of the room that I hadn't noticed before. "The bathroom is through there. Clean yourself up. You look like a mess."
I stared at the door and then back at him. Why was he being like this? Why was he letting me out of the chains just to tell me to wash?
"Why?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
His eyes went even darker. "Because I said so. Don't ask questions."
He reached down and grabbed my arm. He pulled me up from the bed. He wasn't being rough this time, but he wasn't being gentle either. He was just firm. My legs felt like they were made of lead, and they shook under my weight. He seemed to notice because he held onto my arm a little tighter to steady me. He guided me across the small room to the door in the corner.
He reached out and opened it.
The bathroom was very small and simple. The walls were covered in plain white tiles. There was a small shower, a sink, and a single white towel hanging on a rack. There were no windows and no way out.
He let go of my arm. "Go," he said.
I hesitated at the doorway. I was still wearing my school clothes from the day before. They were dirty and stained with blood from my lip. They smelled like the beer that had spilled on the floor of my mother's house. The thought of taking my clothes off and changing in front of him made me feel sick to my stomach.
"Can you... can you turn around?" I whispered, looking at the floor.
He let out a short, quiet laugh. It sounded cold and completely empty of any real joy.
"You have nothing to hide from me, little human," he said. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, making it clear he wasn't going anywhere. "I have already seen enough of you to know what I'm looking at."
My stomach dropped at his words. My face felt hot with shame.
"What does that even mean?" I asked, but he didn't give me an answer.
He just stayed there, leaning against the frame. He was watching me and waiting for me to move. I stood there, frozen in place. I felt like I was in a nightmare that wouldn't end. My hands started to shake as I slowly reached for the hem of my shirt.
He took a step closer into the small bathroom.
I panicked. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I tried to move back, away from him. But the bathroom floor was small and cramped. My heel caught on the raised edge of the shower tile.
I lost my balance completely. I felt myself tipping over, falling backward toward the hard floor. I closed my eyes and waited for the impact, but it never came.
Instead, I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist.
He was faster than I could see. He caught me before I hit the ground and pulled me hard against his body to steady me. I felt his hard chest against my shoulder. His arms felt like iron bands around me. His skin was incredibly warm, and I could smell the scent of smoke and that dark, animal-like smell again.
I looked up, and our eyes met.
The world seemed to stop moving. All the noise in my head went quiet. I looked into his dark eyes and saw my own reflection. In that moment, everything else disappeared. I forgot about the chains, I forgot about my mother, and I forgot about being afraid.
Our eyes met. And I forgot how to breathe.