The HUSH Series: (HUSH, HUSHED and JANE.)

by Sandra Raine

  But I couldn't avoid snooping around my new bedroom seconds after she walked out.

  In another fit of desperation, and instead of flinging clothes across the room, I instead searched the room for anything heavy or sharp, like an object or a tool I could use to breech the cross bars so I could make my escape through the bedroom window but I found nothing, just a thorough and stressed-free furnished bedroom. Then I remembered I would have free roam of the kitchen and the laundry room, places where tools were always kept; and the thought alone began to stir a certain bout of euphoria within me until I went down to the kitchen the next afternoon where I was met by that same heavy set woman from last night.

  She was sitting at the kitchen table with her back against the wall. A cigarette was still burning in between her fat fingers. And the woman didn't smile nor did she greet me. She just sat there staring at me, looking somewhat inconvenienced, somewhat curious that I was in her presence.

  "You hungry, girl? Thirsty?" she then finally asked me leaving me to nod nervously, and I didn't know why? I mean, I didn't feel exactly threatened by her. Maybe it was just her broken accent which sounded dense and struggled; it was very intimidating. The woman finished off her cigarette and put out the butt in the overflowing ashtray sitting beside her and got up from the table.

  "There's plenty of food so you won't starve here," she then said sounding almost to proud that she was able to feed Jeanest's stock without the threat of famine. "Here," she then said pointing to an oversized freezer nestled in between a walk-in pantry and a refrigerator. "There's plenty of micro goods. See," she said lifting the freezer's door with some hesitation. I assumed the freezer door was to heavy for her fat fingers. Then I thought, if given the opportunity, I could very easily pop her over her head and stuff her inside considering how petite she was and how heavy the freezer door was; she would never get out. "Do you see?" the woman asked me a second time, breaking me from my disturbing thought on her.

  "Um. . .yes," I said acknowledging all the microwavable food which were hardly a healthy meal, in my opinion.

  "Both the pantry and the fridge are stocked with food." she then went on to add. "If you need a glass or a plate or a fork and a spoon, they're in the cupboards and drawers," she said pointing to an empty counter where the drawers and the cupboards were perpendicular to one another . "And if you need a pan. . .they're in the cupboards under this island," she said giving the islands' black marble slab a soft thump.

  "Um. . .thanks," I said.

  "No problem," the woman said over her shoulder as she walked back to the kitchen table. She then sat back down and lit another cigarette.

  "Um. . .where's the utensils. . .I mean, to cook with?"

  "Near the stove."

  "And. . .um. . .the knives to cut. . .fruits and vegetables with?" And the woman must've thought I mistook her for a fool 'cause she dimmed an eye and dragged hard on her cigarette.

  "This isn't a culinary school, girl." she sassed after the plume of smoke cleared her thin lips. "Just be happy that you're even allowed to eat, let alone, be in a kitchen." I took those last words to heart 'cause in a nutshell the woman was right. I mean, and seriously, what animal is permitted to roam where it's caged? So for the sake of drawing suspicions to my original intent of probing the kitchen for an escape tool, I instead heated up a TV dinner, grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and headed back up to my cage.

  Once I reached the second floor, and instead of having a solitary lunch inside my room, I opted for the open room 'cause it was spacious, well lit and I was able to grasp a view of the daylight shining through the closest living room window.

  I was half-way through with my lunch when I heard Jeanest's voice from somewhere downstairs. I quickly, yet quietly got up from my chair and rushed back to my bedroom and closed the door with my heart literally beating fast. I mean, it wasn't like I was doing something bad. I was just having lunch. But then I remembered Jeanest's forewarning about the rooms I was able to roam in, and the rooms I couldn't. I guess I was trying to risk a beating from her which I still couldn't grasp. I mean, Jeanest was not that much taller than me - maybe an inch or two - and she was not built that much stronger than me. I mean, I could easily take her down, if I wanted to, so why hadn't I done so? I figured that maybe perhaps I was testing the waters, getting a feel for Jeanest and this weird place which was nowhere compared to Abel's Hell which had me wondering if many brothels were run exactly like this one? And that Abel's Hell was just a fluke? Or perhaps I was just dreaming about being in a brothel's paradise, and that maybe I was drugged sometime before my arrival and I'm about to wake up into the real nightmare? The thought began to unnerve me even as I finished my lunch, drank my water, took a nap, took a shower then sat on my bed in just a bra and panties and waited for the next John to come through my bedroom door.

  And I never did wake from my dream. . .as word of my existence spread like wild fire amongst the "Johns". It was like literally overnight I had become a commodity, and Jeanest couldn't have been any more pleased, and I wasn't pleased knowing what a commodity I was especially to the trails of "Johns" that visited me; some pleasant, others difficult - I mean, I felt like I was back at those motels with Dominic and Justin and Josh and the scum's of the fucking universe they seemed to gather from anywhere just to make a killing on my ass; here with Jeanest and her kiddy brothel, this place was no exception.

  Sometimes the ''Johns" would mishandle me, and an occasional bruise would be visible either on my cheek or my arm. Just recently I had one man take off his belt and beat me with it 'cause I refused to fuck him a second time when he only paid for the first. I mean, I wasn't exactly a free-ride, and the John felt insulted by it. Luckily for me I managed to escape him by running out of my bedroom and into Jeanest, and to my surprise, Marx as they were both clearing the stairs. I was shaking with fear, sobbing like one of Jeanest's little girls when I fell into their company.

  "She won't fuck me!" was the John's argument when Jeanest confronted the irate man while Marx tugged his jacket off his body and draped it around mine. And despite my being wedged in between Jeanest and Marx for protection, the John still had the nerve to try and hit me even though he had succeeded just a few minutes back. But when the John became to much for Jeanest and Marx to handle, Marx summoned another guy to help get rid of him. Meanwhile, Jeanest grabbed my arm lead me back to my bedroom. And instead of comforting me she instead scolded me.

  "You can't be running and screaming down the fucking hall like that, Diamond! You'll scare the shit out of the other girls."

  The other girls, now seven in all, were rarely permitted to roam the house, and not the way I was permitted to roam - it was usually just the bathrooms. In fact, the girls were kept in their rooms, and under lock and key. Occasionally when I'd walk to or from my bedroom, I would give all the doorknobs a slight turn only to hit deadbolts. There was however, a couple of times a door to a couple of the rooms were accidentally (or perhaps, purposely) left unlocked. And those were the couple of times I took pity on the girls and slipped them treats, like juice boxes, chips, cookies and crackers from the kitchen and tell them to hide them in their room. I also tried making conversation with them since they weren't permitted to talk to any body.

  One girl, I just couldn't get her to talk. She just kept staring down at the carpet. In the end, I just picked up her hand, kissed it and told her that everything in the end would be fine for her. I even went as far as promising her that it was.

  The other girl, and since she was kind of closer to my age - thirteen - she was a bit more eager for company. Her name was Cassie. She was white with brown hair and blue eyes. She was born and raised in Austin, Texas. Said she'd been in Jeanest's care for about a couple of years now and she didn't understand why she was still here when her father was a lawman working for some big agency. I mean, she sounded incredibly pained by her father not coming to rescue her.

  I held her hand to ease her discomfort while she continued to talk about ho
w she was at a local park, using the bathroom when a guy she hadn't seen before walked in on her, hit her, knocking her out. And the last thing she remembered was waking up here. Then she went on to say that the same guy who knocked her out was the same guy who stole her virginity. She said she cried the whole time; said she would have liked to have saved herself for someone special. My heart broke for her.

  "Did you not fucking hear me?!" Jeanest yelled, grabbing my arm again and yanking it hard.

  "Yes!" I cried feeling more ashamed than pained by the belt's welts which continued to sting my flesh even though I could not feel it; I was to busy feeling the sting on my morale.

  "You're a stupid girl!" Jeanest then had the nerve to curse. I hocked back some spit from my throat and spat it in her face. A horrid expression then spread across Jeanest's face particularly when she dabbed at my spit clinging to her face like putty.

  "Why you fucking little bitch!" Jeanest seethed in between clenched teeth prior to slapping me across my face. And her slap was so hard I actually saw a few stars.

  "What the fuck are you doing?" Marx said storming in, stepping in front of Jeanest, shielding me from another slap 'cause Jeanest already had her hand in the air.

  "She fucking spat on me!" Jeanest bitched. Marx shifted his attention to me.

  "Did you spit on her?" he asked, sounding much to calm. It scared me, even after I nodded. "Why?" he then continued to ask me, still sounding calm even though Jeanest was just a couple of feet away literally breathing fire down his back.

  "She scolded me."

  "For what?"

  "For running down the hall. Screaming. Said I - "

  "Never mind," Marx grunted turning his attention back onto Jeanest. "Get some of that Aloe Vera for her welts."

  "Fuck you!" Jeanest spat. Marx grabbed Jeanest by the back of her hair and abruptly shoved her toward me. As for me, I froze in my stance. Suddenly I couldn't breathe. I was to scared to 'cause I didn't know what the hell Marx was doing.

  "Fuck me?!" Marx fumed. "Fuck you!" he spat back. "If Parker sees her this way it's both our fucking asses! Now go and fetch me some fucking shit to take care of your fucking mess!" Marx then proceeded to insult, shoving Jeanest toward the door. And without so much as an argument, Jeanest staggered out of my bedroom with her tail literally between her legs. Marx then closed my bedroom door and focused a partial of his rage on me.

  "If it were up to me, I would have beaten the shit out of you. But since I'm gettin' paid a shit load of cash to watch your ass, to make sure no harm comes to you while you're here, I'm forced to reconsider. Now, I'm not blaming you for what happened with that prick; that was out of your hands; you're just doing as your told - "

  "Here," Jeanest interrupted from the door, tossing the bottle of Aloe Vera to Marx. And instead of sticking around, she left, slamming the door behind her. I flinched.

  "Bitch!" Marx mustered beneath his breath, taking a seat on my bed. "Come," he then ordered. I obeyed and stepped to him.

  Marx reached for his jacket still wrapped around my shoulders and gently slid it off my body, careful not to disturb the welts which felt like a blistering hell. My body then tensed the second Marx touched the Aloe to my skin.

  There were several welts embedded on my backside: I could feel one welt straight across my back, a couple on my ass cheeks, and a couple more across my thighs. It took Marx roughly a few minutes to massage the medicine into the welts, and he did it with such care and precision it was like he was nursing his own wounds.

  "Here," Marx said handing me the green gel. "You can take care of the rest." he stated, getting up from my bed and walking out of my bedroom.

  I was in the midst of nursing a couple of welts that made their way around my back and thighs when Marx unexpectedly walked back into my bedroom handing me a white sheet. A sudden wave of fear washed over me, and I had a flashback of me sitting on a cot with nothing but a white sheet covering my body and nothing else. And without so much as entertaining the idea a second time, I instead shook my head adamantly toward Marx's kind gesture.

  "No."

  "Why?" Marx probed, curiously.

  "I have my reasons," I said tending back to the welts. I mean, I'd rather sit completely naked rather than to sit in a fucking bed sheet!

  "Suit yourself," Marx said walking back out of my bedroom.

  Howard and Mr. Sims were the only two clients who were allowed to engage with me for the next few days I worked. Jeanest felt they'd be partial to my dilemma, so they were cautious and very sensitive to my needs.

  It took the welts about a good solid week just to fade. And another few days for them to be completely gone.

  So now here I was, five to six weeks later sitting on my bed, wearing only a bra and some panties, waiting for another John to walk through my bedroom door.

  Today I was feeling tired. A bit edgy. . .anxious, and I just wanted to go back home, back to LA where I lived in peace with Anna and Bree. . .Anna and Bree who I worried about constantly. Wondering if they were still safe, if they were still in the care of my father's men? I assumed no harm had come to them as of yet 'cause I would have heard something by now, especially from Marx who seemed to have the closest connection with Andrew Parker.

  Today I also thought about my family. . .my mother Sissy, my half-brother Jonah, and Viktor, my now deceased father. Occasionally I would dream about him, about the confrontation between him and Parker that fateful day. Sometimes I'd wake-up crying or sweating or crying out to my father right as he was murdered. I didn't dream of Sissy or Jonah 'cause something told me to continue having fate in them. I tried not to think about them as much 'cause there really was no reason for me to think about people I hardly knew even though the connection (through blood) was there, clear as day. I mean, a great part of me yearned to stay connected to them, and another part of me yearned to let them go. I felt like I was battling demons within myself on a day-to-day basis 'cause I couldn't decide for or against the other. I also felt like I was in turmoil, agony; like I was spiraling down a rabbit's hole with no end in sight. . .Run, Jane, run. . .Stay, Diamond, stay. . .Fight, Jane, fight. . .Survive, Jane, survive. . .Escape, Diamond, escape. . ."How?"

  "What?" Marx said suddenly literally ripping me from my thoughts. I jumped up from the bed with my heart literally lodged in my throat 'cause I had been caught thinking out loud.

  "No. . .nothing. . ." I stammered somewhat breathless.

  "No. You said something."

  "I did?" I said trying to sound naive, doe like.

  "C'mon, Diamond," Marx mused closing my bedroom door behind him. Then he did something I was not permitted for any John to do: Marx locked the door from the inside. I casually, yet cautiously took a few steps away from the bed. I mean, I knew Marx wouldn't harm me 'cause he could've done it a hundred times by now. I guess my reaction to him locking the door on us was more of a subconscious thing, like a precaution.

  "It's nothing. . .really," I pressed, keeping my distance from Marx who casually stripped off his jacket and settled it neatly on the high back chair.

  "You're thinking, Diamond. . .Plotting," he said to my utmost surprise. However, he sounded more amused than threatened. And I wasn't sure if his demeanor was toying with me or pressuring me to confess?

  "I'm not upset," Marx then comforted casually pacing his space. "It's only expected. I mean, you wouldn't exactly be the first girl to plot an escape. But you are the first girl here to ask about kitchen knives."

  "Wow," I mustered somewhat shocked but merely pissed. I knew that fat bitch had a fat mouth.

  "Don't be upset with May Belle, Diamond. She's only doing her job."

  "She's a pig! Just like the rest of the filth that wanders through this place!" I spat, and without a fucking care in the world.

  "You think I'm a pig, Diamond?" Now Marx sounded a bit offended, yet there was still amusement clinging to his supple tone. I quickly shook my head 'cause in all honesty, I didn't find Marx to be a pig but rather a gentleman.
A lot like Mr. Church. . .even Dominic. "Tell me something, Diamond," Marx said curiously, "if you were to plot an escape, how would you plot it?"

  "If I told you that then that wouldn't be much of a plot, now would it?"

  "I was told you were feisty. That you had a certain fire in your blood. I was also told you were difficult, but at the same time, hard to ignore. And. . .your pussy felt good."

  "So is that the reason why you're here with the door lock so you can finish what you previously started?"

  "Well if you know it, then why don't you stop talking, take the rest of your clothes off and get into the bed."

  Chapter 11

  Marx had a gun. And it was now sitting on the dresser where he settled it as he undressed and got into bed with me.

  Marx was completely naked so I got a full view of his body. He worked out, that was for sure. And he smelled clean. And he thrust gently into me, penetrating me with care and precision as if he were still putting Aloe on my welts. I tried hard not to engage emotionally with Marx but I was having trouble trying to do just that. . .keeping business "business" and pleasure on simple thoughts like my other life back in LA, my job at the bakery, the people I was interacting with on a day-to-day basis, buying the clothes I liked to wear. . .I was having trouble, and I couldn't get my mind out of the gutter with Marx particularly when his face was so damn close to mine, and his mouth was no more than a lover's kissing distance, and the way his beautiful body continued to sway gently over mine, penetrating me in soft rhythming thrusts that soon my body started to flush with this intense desire, and an orgasm was starting to build from the depth of my womanhood, and I couldn't stop it, couldn't control it. . .Please! my mind begged and pleaded; Please! my body ached and cried; Please come before I do! my mind screamed.

  The room spun in cosmic circles. I was having trouble focusing on the wallpaper, the ceiling, on Marx's gun. I had lost my mind as well as my pride and my dignity somewhere in this room.