by Sam Crescent
Timothy paused. “You’ve never been to a park?”
“No.”
The doctor’s gaze returned to his. Raphael shook his head.
“Every person in the world should get to go to the park once,” Timothy said. “Next time, please don’t throw yourself off the swing, and also, go when you’re healed up. You were doing a nice job, now it’s going to take longer.”
“I’m sorry,” Elenore said. “I’ll be good.”
He didn’t want her to be good. Raphael wanted her to fucking fly, to soar to freedom.
Timothy finished up. “I will let you get dressed while I talk to him.”
They left the room and Raphael offered her a smile.
He’d kissed her. She’d kissed him back. He couldn’t think about that now.
“Do you want to tell me why she’s never been to a park?” Timothy said.
“You know what my father is capable of. There are people born who are not registered. They are simply commodities. No different than cattle.” He stared at Timothy.
“And she was one of them.”
“Still is.”
“Elenore isn’t her real name.”
“No.”
“What is her real name?”
“She doesn’t have one. My father doesn’t allow his slaves to have anything, not even a name. I don’t know her age or when she was born,” he said. He looked past Timothy’s shoulder. “She is no one.”
“I have contacts. I can help make her someone. Give her an identity. A place in this world.”
“Why would you help me?” he asked.
“I’m not as big a monster as people believe.”
“You torture people for fun.”
“Not innocent people. No one who doesn’t deserve it, Raphael. I know if you’ve taken your father’s property and you need my silence, you’re in danger if he ever finds out. You’re close to him. He’s always watching. I can help. I can take her away from here. Give her a good life.”
“You’re not fucking having her.”
“Not for me, you asshole. A life where she can look up to the sky without fear. True freedom. Consider it. The longer she is with you, the higher the risk of her getting caught and killed. I know the life you lead. I know the man you call father. This is no life for a woman, and certainly not a young one who wants nothing more than to go to a fucking park.” Timothy picked up his case. “I’ll be on my way. You know how to contact me if you change your mind. I expect you to help her rest and not fuck up her stitches.”
“Do I need to consider an additional payment?” he asked.
“No, I’m still enjoying my last one. Until she is healthy again, no wounds, one payment for it.” Timothy nodded his head and left.
“Will you send me away?” Elenore asked, coming out of her hiding spot from around the corner of the door.
“Do you want to leave?”
“I don’t want to get you into trouble.”
“It doesn’t really answer my question.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I think so. I don’t want to get hurt. He’s right. The longer I’m with you, the more danger you’re in.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
“What about me?” she asked. “I can’t take care of myself. What if something happens to you and I don’t know about it?”
He stepped up to her, cupped her face, and kissed her lips. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I can’t not think about it.” She kissed him back, surprising him and clearly herself as she jerked back. “I’m sorry.”
“Did you want to kiss me?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, I wanted to kiss you.”
“Did you like the kiss at the park?”
“Yes.”
“Me too. I enjoyed it a lot.”
She smiled. “Good. Thank you for taking me to the park.”
“Why did you jump off?”
“My hat, it came off. I was worried.”
“Next time, let me know and I’ll get it for you. Don’t jump off.”
“How do you slow down?” she asked.
“You ask me to stop pushing you, and you can use your feet to slow you down. Then I can stop you with my hands.”
“You’re strong.”
“When it comes to you, I will always be strong enough to catch you. You’ll never have to fear about that.”
“I wish it wasn’t like this,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m nothing and you’re someone. You’re going to get married to someone your father picks. You’re going to have a life. If he finds out about me, you should just kill me, Raphael. Kill me and be done with it.”
He pulled her close. “That’s never going to happen.”
“But I’m causing you more trouble. The doctor must be a fortune.”
“He’s not.” The world was full of monsters. Timothy never wanted money as payment. Just someone to help his desire for the dirty and disgusting.
Kissing the top of her head, he couldn’t imagine hurting her. She’d spent her whole life being someone’s punching bag. The scars proved it.
When she was around him, he wanted her to feel safe, protected. Loved? Was he fooling himself?
Pulling away, he stared down into her pretty brown eyes. There was so much more he wanted to say.
“Everyone has a price,” she said. “Don’t they?”
“Is that what my father said?”
“Yes.”
“Timothy, the doctor, he has a price and I pay him well.”
“Is there anything I can do to help pay him?” she asked.
“Not unless you know some sick fucks around?”
“What?”
“Timothy doesn’t ask for money. Last time I checked, he was already loaded and didn’t need any additional funds. All he wants are men and women who are monsters.”
“You pay him in monsters?”
He nodded.
“What kind?” she asked.
“The kind you never want to meet in a dark alley.”
“People like your family?”
“Yes.”
“Will you pay him a Giavanni?” she asked.
He stared at her. He’d thought about it many times and of course Timothy had even offered. His father’s death needed to be a long one. One where the bastard didn’t see it coming.
He stroked Elenore’s cheek. “Don’t worry about my father.”
“Is he looking for me?”
“No.” At least not that he was aware of and he didn’t need to tell her that. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”
“You’re right. It has been a really long night and I could use the sleep.” She offered him a smile, turning away and walking in the direction of her bedroom. He watched her go, still admiring the curve of her ass.
He made a note to purchase some clothes for her, something in her size. At this time, he couldn’t take her out. Already tonight he’d fucked up by possibly taking her out too soon. His father could have men watching him.
Always with the tests. This one, he’d fail.
“Raphael,” she said, stopping at the door to look back at him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For giving me freedom.”
“This isn’t real freedom yet. You don’t know what it’s like to be able to walk the street safely.”
“I know, but for now, it feels safe. I like being with you. You’re a good man.” She left him and he shook his head.
There was nothing good about him. She needed to understand that the only reason he saved her was that he wanted her. He’d never dream of ruining his plans of annihilating his father for just anyone.
He knew about all the women his father paid for to be trafficked like a piece of meat. He’d even stood by while men hurt them to keep them in line. He was far from a good man and he had an idea if Elenore really knew the truth abo
ut him, she wouldn’t give him any smiles. She wouldn’t trust him. Not really.
Moving toward his bottle of whiskey, he noted he was going to need to buy some more. In the short time she’d been with him, he’d already gone through two bottles of the stuff. He poured the last dregs from the bottom of the bottle, lifted the glass, and tossed it back, letting the burn take over as it slid down his throat.
Everything could come together soon, he just had to hold on.
****
The following morning, Elenore woke up late. The numbers on the clock were a lot later. She wasn’t sure what it read. Picking the clock up, she lay back and stared at it for a couple of minutes. The numbers changed as she did.
After putting the clock down, she threw the covers off her body and walked into the en-suite. Her thigh hurt a great deal and so did her shoulder. It wasn’t the brightest thing, throwing herself off a swing. She couldn’t imagine using her legs to stop her. It seemed so silly. Shaking her head, she used the toilet before going to the sink, washing her hands, and splashing some cold water onto her face.
Looking up at her reflection, she stared back at herself.
Was she a real person?
Reaching out, she pressed the tips of her fingers to her reflection and watched herself. There was no reaction.
“You’re nothing more than a plaything. Your sole existence is for the pleasure of others. If you please me, you’ll walk out of here and you’ll get food. Don’t, I’ll beat you and starve you. You’ll wish you did as you were told.”
All her life, she’d done as she was told. One of her first rare memories was the slap across the face as she accidentally broke a plate. The cook had been so afraid. Her first owner had come into the kitchen. The cook had gotten a beating over her hands and had been forced to put one hand into a pot of boiling water. Elenore recalled being dragged out of the kitchen where her owner had thrown stuff at her, kicked her, beaten her, and threw her downstairs for days without food.
She’d never broken another plate again. The cook had changed by the time she was finally freed from her prison. Giavanni was her second owner.
She was won in a card game, she believed. She’d been standing there in her uniform, and unlike some of her other slaves, she’d been granted food. Her owner had liked how hard-working she was and made sure to reward her. The other slaves had all hated her. She never tried to run away. She never sought freedom. Seeing the gate terrified her.
If her owners could do what they did to her, what would the outside world do? She was told repeatedly she was nothing and no one. The world didn’t care about people like her.
Forcing those memories to the back of her mind, she knew they had no place right now. Raphael didn’t believe he’d granted her true freedom but he didn’t know what it was like to be constantly afraid. This was freedom.
Sitting down on the sofa and watching the world go by felt like freedom. There was no room to relax in her world. Only punishment if she got something wrong or did something naughty. She was tired of it.
After brushing her teeth, she straightened up and combed through her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. Should she have it cut? She’d ask Raphael first what he thought.
Back in her bedroom, she made the bed perfectly. Old habits died hard. She changed into a pair of sweats and picked up her dirty shirt, taking it out to the laundry room. There was already a basket full of washing. She placed the dirty shirt into the washing machine and took all of Raphael’s dark colors to add to it. On his pristine white shirt, she noted some of the blood spatter. She did laundry back at his father’s house and blood-covered clothes was not a new sight for her.
Placing it back in the basket, she put some powder to the mix, closed the door, and found the cycle she’d been shown back at Giavanni’s. She wasn’t able to read or write but copying, she’d been able to do. She understood what people said a great deal.
Stepping into the kitchen, she saw Raphael already there, waiting. He drank a cup of coffee and was already biting into something that looked like pancakes. “Morning,” he said.
“Morning.”
“Want some coffee?”
“Please.”
He stepped away from his plate and she watched him grab a cup from the cupboard. Then he opened up the oven, grabbed a towel, and pulled out a plate of pancakes. “How are you feeling today?” he asked.
“Good. You?”
“I mean, are you sore?”
“Sore?”
“From yesterday. I didn’t even think of your wounds and I had you running over town.”
“I loved it.”
“You did?”
“Yes. It was a lot of fun.”
He put the pancakes in front of her and she watched him drizzle some syrup on top. “Now, I don’t mean to brag or anything, but I can promise you, these are damn good.”
“Damn good?”
“Yep. I make the best pancakes in the world.”
She chuckled, breaking into one and placing it against her lips. She closed her eyes.
“Good?”
“Damn good.”
“See, I told you.” He sipped at his coffee. “I’ve got to head out today. I got a call from my father I need to go and answer. When I return, I’m going to have some clothes for you. Will you be okay?”
“Yes. I’ve got some laundry to do.”
“Also, I want you to be extra cautious today.”
“Why?”
“I have a hunch. My father, he’s not the most trustworthy kind of guy. Someone might break in or try to look around.” He opened up his jacket and held out a cell phone for her to take. “I’ve already put this on silent. If you feel in any kind of danger, call me. Be quiet though. Super-quiet.”
“I can do that.”
He finished his coffee. “I don’t want anything to happen to you but the threat is real.”
She watched him pick up his jacket. He already had his gun strapped to his body, and he looked ready to do business. “Raphael, when you get back, could you teach me how to tell the time?”
“Sure, if you’d like to learn.”
“I would.”
“Consider it done.” He kissed the top of her head.
Whenever he cupped the back of her neck and did that, she felt safe, protected. Being around Raphael didn’t feel wrong or dirty.
She gave him another smile and he was gone. The door closed with the locks flicking back into place. He’d told her there wouldn’t be any apparent guard on the door, but he had people watching her to keep her safe.
Finishing up her pancakes, she got to washing the dishes, drying, and putting them away.
She closed the drawers and moved toward the window.
One of the things she loved doing was taking her time to stare out across the city. People were so lucky with what they had. She’d never known what it was like to get dressed up in these nice outfits, run to work, or be part of the race. The working force.
What was it like to have their face on a passport or a driver’s license? To just have a photo of themselves?
She didn’t know what it was like.
Some of the girls she’d met along the way of her captivity had known. They hadn’t all been born into this life, like she had. She didn’t even know her mother’s name, or her father’s. She’d been a bastard, that was what she’d been told.
Putting her hand on the glass, she felt the warmth of the sun and as she was about to open the door to take a chance to step onto the patio overlooking the city, she froze.
Someone was trying to come into the apartment.
At first, she thought she hadn’t heard it. Stepping around the corner, she looked down at the door and the unmistakable jarring of the doorknob could be seen.
Without thinking, she rushed toward Raphael’s room. She’d opened and closed the closet as the front door flung open. Keeping all fear locked up inside, she found the door. It was hidden, and she crawled inside. The space was so small. There was a
lock from the inside and as she closed it, she was careful not to make a sound as she slid the lock into place.
It wasn’t dirty.
The space had been carefully designed to keep someone here, for someone to hide. Had Raphael done this before? Did he go around saving women who’d been taken by his father? Did he make a habit out of this?
She didn’t know what to think as she curled her legs close to her. If he helped people, it only made her like him a lot more. Or had he done this for her?
She liked him a great deal but her feelings for him made no sense. He owned her, at least he did while ever she lived with him.
Stop thinking now.
You can’t even read or write.
There’s no chance he would ever want someone like you.
She’d seen the sophisticated woman he was supposed to marry. Raphael was a king in their world and would marry a queen. A woman who deserved him. Who had the power to rule over his kingdom.
It didn’t matter that he’d given her a name, a chance. She was still no one and would always be. Nothing changed that.
Pressing her forehead against her knee, she waited, listening. Whoever invaded his home was inside his room. She heard the closet door open. The light clicked on. Whoever designed this room did a good job. Only distinctive sounds were easy to detect.
The cell phone?
She’d forgotten it.
Fuck!
Chapter Five
One of the few places Raphael hated to go was the docks. It was full of crooks and criminals. During the day, it always tested the loyalty of the cops who were on their payroll.
He slammed his car door closed, aware of his soldiers checking out the area. They weren’t his father’s men. They were the ones he’d picked and their loyalty belonged to him and him alone.
Antonio arrived seconds later. If their little enforcer was here, it meant this wasn’t girls this time.
His father liked to deal with the girls down at the docks before shipping them out. It was where he made his assessments, taking the best ones for himself, and the ones who’d bring in good money at the brothels.
Elenore hadn’t come on a boat.
She’d arrived at his father’s house, a cold, shivering girl who’d blossomed into a beautiful woman. Even when she first arrived, Raphael remembered being drawn to her. Her hair hadn’t been the length it was now. Someone had hacked it off when she first arrived. His father had made him watch as he’d given her the rundown of how things were going to be and what it meant to be owned by a Giavanni.