by Prince, DD
Before I knew it he was forcing his thing into my mouth, hanging onto a handful of material at the back of my dress. I started to choke and sputter and then he slapped me across the head and when he hit he hit so hard I saw a kaleidoscope of colors. He pushed his dick into my mouth again and I just gagged and then tears were streaming out of my eyes. It was disgusting, he stank like old cheese and sweat and tasted nasty and I couldn’t stop gagging. He didn’t care; he just kept pumping in over and over around my gagging.
“Bite me, Puta, I’ll knock your teeth out!” he grunted this and then I heard a scuffle behind him and then hollering and then his grip loosened on me and I heard a bang, a gunshot. He fell beside me. Earl had shot him in the back of the head. Earl had a look of ferocity on his face. He helped me up and put me on the bed and then disappeared into the washroom. I stared at the man on the floor in the puddle of almost black blood and his vacant eyes. His penis was still hanging out of his pants. Earl came back with a wet cloth and started wiping my face.
“That should never have happened, honey, I’m sorry,” he said, then walked me to the bathroom and turned the tap on. I splashed water on my face and scooped a handful of water and spit it out and then repeated it two or three times. The taste in my mouth was vile, beyond vile. I couldn’t stop shaking.
I looked at him with a hurt and betrayed look on my face. This guy had been assigned by Tommy to keep me safe. It was a joke, of course, because I hadn’t been safe since I’d been given to Tommy but this whole thing had just been so ugly and so so confusing. From the other morning when Tommy had been tender with me to the incident with his sister and seeing her babies in the car, to running, calling my father, Tommy finding me and being so angry, and then all of this. I wanted…I didn’t know what I wanted. I felt like I was on the verge of a complete breakdown.
“Let’s go,” Earl said.
I looked at him beseechingly.
“You’re going home.”
Relief flooded through me. Home?
“To Tommy,” he clarified. He must’ve seen the look of hope on my face. I knew my expression dropped. Was home with him? I hated what he’d put me through so far but I hated myself, too, because my actions, my running away had probably made it easy for Earl to kidnap me.
As we headed for the front door I saw Juan Carlos again. He was in a robe, smoking a cigar. He walked up to us and nodded at Earl, “You hand her off to Ricky and his crew and stay. We don’t want the Ferrano boys to see you. Athena; your fiancé has been told if he ever gets tired of you to send you back to me.” He winked. I would’ve gulped but my throat was so dry that I’m sure I just stared at him blankly.
Earl walked me outside and put me in the back of an old cargo van. I sat on the dirty carpeted floor and a tall Mexican guy tied my hands and feet and put duct tape over my mouth.
“I’m sorry. Good luck,” Earl said softly to me and then shut the van doors.
This bad guy had a guilty conscience. I was grateful that he’d at least stopped that filthy pig from finishing with me but he’d been the one who helped bring me here. I trembled hard. Two guys sat in the back with me with gun holsters on them and there were two in the front. The only one I recognized was the slim black guy who’d done the first aid on Earl’s shoulder.
One of the guys answered a phone, spoke in Spanish, then looked back and said, “Change of plans. You been sold, bitch!” Then he said something else in Spanish and they all started laughing hysterically.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no!
Was Earl lying or had someone double-crossed someone? Where was I going? What would happen to me? The van drove for what felt like a long time, maybe an hour, but I didn’t have any real concept of time, only the concept of horror. I felt like I was rapidly falling apart at the seams, stitch by stitch, and there may not be many stitches left.
Abruptly, the van screeched to a halt and the two in the front got out. The two in the back sat and kept their gazes focused on me. A long time seemed to pass when finally the back door opened and I was yanked out, dropped carelessly on the road, and then the men jumped back into the van and squealed away.
For at least a minute or two I just laid there in the dust, in the dark, totally freaking out, totally immobile because I was still bound and gagged. Then I saw headlights coming at me, heard brakes squeal, and heard multiple sets of feet running. I squinted at the high beams in my face.
Oh no, what next? Who had I gotten sold to?
I was scooped up into the air in strong arms. I knew that scent. It was leather, it was musk, a bit of sweat, some stale coffee, but it was Tommy. When it hit me, at that second it was the best scent I’d ever smelled in my life. My heart leapt forward with jubilation but then at the same instant I felt fear prickle like spikes through my scalp. How mad was he going to be at me for this?
Then I was in the back seat of a car and then I was on his lap and he was breathing hard, getting my hands untied, getting my feet untied, and then he got the tape off my mouth. It was dark and we weren’t alone in the car, which was now speeding away. There were three heads in the front bench seat and just us in the back.
I felt barely more than catatonic. I had my bottom lip in my mouth, reeling from the sting of the tape being pulled off. My feet and hands were numb from having been tied too long and too tight.
“Are you hurt?” he breathed, examining me in the near darkness of the car with just the tiny interior light on. I shook my head No but at the sight of his eyes, the concern on his face, the reality of where I was and what I was in the middle of, a giant sob tore out of me.
He pulled me tight against his chest and rocked back and forth, one hand on my head, the other flat against the center of my back. I put my arms around his torso and held tight, feeling him pull me tighter, feeling his mouth on my head. He said nothing but he kept rocking back and forth with me, kissing my head over and over, squeezing me reassuringly. He said nothing; I said nothing. I had a feeling that there would be plenty to say when we were alone.
A while later, I don’t know how much later, the car stopped and I jolted awake. I had fallen asleep against him, feeling like his scent and his arms were a warm blanket around me. He carried me, cradled in his arms in through a gate, and then up a walkway to a large light-colored house with all the outside lights on. Once inside, the interior’s light was blinding. I squinted and shielded my eyes and he said something softly to his brother who’d been in the car with us, shut the door and then he climbed a narrow staircase with me. A moment later he kicked a slightly ajar dark stained wooden door open and then swept his foot backwards once we were in to shut it. He turned around and locked a deadbolt and put me down on a bed. He was standing over me, looking down at me for a moment. His expression unreadable to me.
My dam burst and the tears fell like Niagara Falls. He flicked the light switch off, sat, grabbed me, pulled me up onto his lap and rocked me some more in the dark. He held me tight; almost too tight. After a few minutes or an hour, I wasn’t sure, he let go. He got up to his feet. I clambered up to my knees on the bed and threw my arms around him and held on tight, not wanting him to leave me alone, not wanting someone to swoop in and take me, not wanting his sweetness to change to anger. He kissed the top of my head and whispered, “I’m gonna run a bath. Just a minute, okay?” I let go of him and just sat on the edge of the bed.
There was an adjoining bathroom and I heard him turn the water on. He came back a moment later and reached for my hand. I stood up and followed him into the bathroom. I saw my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, my eyes were bloodshot, and my black and white checkered dress with the red collar and red belt was filthy and ruined. I had no shoes on my dirty feet. Tommy looked rough, too. He was wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants and a white button up shirt but he was filthy dirty. He looked exhausted. His face was prickly and unshaven. He looked down at me and started to undo the zipper on the back of my dress. I let the material fall to my feet, got out of my underthings, and g
ot into the big antique-looking claw foot tub and wrapped my arms around my legs, putting my cheek on my knee.
He shed his clothing, including 2 guns plus a knife in a leg holster and piled it all on the floor beside the tub. He got in behind me and started to massage my shoulders. I started ugly-crying big time. He soaped my back up with a giant sudsy sponge and then passed the sponge to me and I resumed the rest of the soaping up in the front, still crying.
He reached around and tenderly cupped my chin, then tilted my chin up to pour a cup of water over my hair and then he started massaging my scalp, lathering my hair. He lathered it up with a strawberry-scented shampoo and it felt so good I thought I might just fall asleep. Then he rinsed my hair several times with the cup and then lathered himself up hair to toes, rinsed, leaned forward, pulled the plug out and let it drain. I went to get up but he pulled my back against his front and kissed my temple and kept me there while it drained. Then he leaned over and turned the taps back on to refill it with clean water. He reached over to a shelf beside the tub and poured some lavender scented foam bath in. He pulled me back against his chest and leaned back in the water against the back of the tub. By this time I had stopped with the tears but still had the shudders.
He let the tub fill and then we soaked for a while, not talking, I was just listening to the sizzle of the bubbles on our skin and the sound of crickets and frogs outside. I started to feel like I was sinking into sleep against him but then he nudged me to let him out. I leaned forward, “We’re both washed clean, okay?” he said. I looked back over my shoulder at him. By the look on his face I think he saw this as monumental, almost like a baptism, for both of us. I nodded slowly. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. My heart ached, thinking about him coming to get me, about him saving me.
I pulled the plug and watched the bubbles and water go down the drain while he dried himself off and then put a fluffy white towel around his waist.
“Hungry, thirsty?” he asked.
I shook my head.
He left the room and I got out, dried off, and then went to the sink. I found a box of new toothbrushes under the sink, along with toothpaste and mouthwash. The tears came back and I cried softly as I washed my mouth out. I wondered if I’d ever forget that horrible man’s taste for the rest of my life. Just thinking about it made bile rise and I started retching and then vomiting in the sink. I knew it was loud, so loud that if Tommy was in the bedroom still he’d be listening to this. It was like my stomach was trying to turn itself inside out.
When it finally stopped I brushed my teeth and rinsed with mouthwash again and again and again and my mouth was burning from all of it. I spent…I don’t know how long… rinsing, gagging, coughing, rinsing, spitting, gagging and choking some more. I towel dried my hair for a few minutes before my arms started to ache and then I stepped out into the bedroom. It was dark but I could see that Tommy was in the bed on his usual side, facing my direction. I sat on the edge, dropped the towel and climbed in beside him. He sat up and pulled a clean-smelling t-shirt over my head, then once my arms were in the holes he passed me an opened bottle of water and said, “Drink.”
I drank about half of it and then put the bottle down on the table beside the bed. He immediately pulled me to his chest and held me tight. I felt his hands in my hair and his lips on my forehead. I touched his cheek and it felt wet. Was it from the bath? I felt a drip hit my finger. Oh my God…he was shedding tears for me.
I started to cry again and he held me tighter, “What did they do to you, baby? Tell me. Then you’ll never have to talk about it again,” his voice sounded a bit strangled.
I started to sob. There were no tears left in my burning eyes and my throat hurt from all the sobbing and throwing up. He waited, rubbing his hand up and down my back and then he squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. After what felt like forever I finally regained enough composure to speak, “The guy who drove the car from your house, he forced himself into my my m-mouth. Earl shot him for it before the guy could f-finish.” I felt him tense up but he didn’t say anything. He just squeezed me closer, “It happened just before they drove me to you. That’s the only…the only thing,” I finished off.
“No one, no one will ever ever again…” he started and it sounded like he was saying it through gritted teeth. But he didn’t finish, he just pulled me even tighter against him.
I fell asleep on top of him, our bodies pressed together and for the first time, he wasn’t hard, wasn’t plotting one of his games to get inside of me. Rescuing me, cradling me, washing the filth off me, holding me while I cried, and shedding tears for me --- that got him inside of me in a different way.
** ** **
When I woke up, I jackknifed up, out of breath. Then I realized where I was. Well, I didn’t know where I was, exactly, but he was still beside me so I settled down. He was laying there looking at me. He pulled me to him and his mouth touched the top of my head. He looked exhausted, like he still hadn’t even slept. He still looked rough, too, with the shiner I’d given him, bruised lip, and the scratches still on his face.
I settled my head against his chest and closed my eyes, trying to tell my heart to settle down. The sun was up and the room was filled with light. I looked around. It was a pretty bedroom with a white ruffled lace bedspread on the white wicker framed double bed. The whole room was white and filled with white wicker furniture. It kind of went with last night’s whole baptismal theme. The only splash of color was a vase of fresh pink, yellow, and orange daisy-like flowers on the dresser and a big green empty rucksack beside a black suitcase opened and sitting on a big wicker rocking chair. I could see it was filled with my clothes and his clothes. I closed my eyes and focused on the steadiness of his heartbeat feeling strange, feeling cared for.
“You should sleep a bit longer. We got in really late,” he said, smoothing my hair behind my ear.
I nodded, thinking he was right, because those days in that basement I think I only slept 20 winks at a time, but a few minutes later it was probably obvious that I wasn’t falling back to sleep right now. I was laying on him staring off into space and he pulled away and was staring at me. He took my hand in his and pulled it toward him and kissed each knuckle. Then he leaned over a little and took a phone off the nightstand and dialed a number, “Hey. Need breakfast. Can you have her put it outside the door? Tell her to knock when she brings it but no disturbing us. Ask my brother what time the flight is.” He held the phone for a minute and then said, “Right.” Then he hung up.
I went to move away, thinking he was getting up but his grip tightened and he didn’t let me go. He buried his nose into my hair and squeezed and we stayed there for another few minutes just holding one another until a noise outside the door and then a brief knocking on the door startled me. I think I must’ve jumped two feet at the noise.
He got up, walked to the suitcase in his underwear and got into a clean pair of army green colored cargos, and then stepped into the hall. I got up with the duvet wrapped around me and leaned over the suitcase and pulled out some underwear, a bra, a pair of jean shorts, and a t-shirt that had been packed for me. I glanced in the top flap of the suitcase and there was a toiletry bag as well with some of my makeup, hairbrush, deodorant, razor, manicure tool kit, and my own toothbrush. There were two other changes of clothes and two pairs of shoes --- a pair of my sneakers and my leather flip flops.
I took an armful of things into the bathroom to get dressed and try to make myself presentable. As I passed the door I saw his guns and knife on the nightstand. He came back in with a big covered breakfast-in-bed type tray. I got dressed, brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, and washed my face.
When I came back out he was sitting on the bed tapping away at his phone. I sat down. He wandered into the bathroom and came back out wearing the khaki t-shirt I’d slept in. He looked at me warmly, “Eat something, baby.”
I smiled a little and nodded. I lifted the tray’s lid and there was an assortment of fruit, muffins, pastries, bage
ls, and butter, cream cheese, and jam. There was also a carafe of coffee, milk, sugar, and a jug of orange juice. My stomach rumbled loudly.
“Coffee?” I asked him.
“Yes please.”
I remembered he took cream, no sugar, due to Sarah’s sugar weaning. Me? I was having 3 sugars today. There were things in life that were far more evil than sugar.
I passed him a cup, my hand trembling a little. I moved the suitcase onto the floor and sat on the wicker chair and looked out the window. We were in a woodsy area so, really, the only thing to look at was the trees.
“I’m putting you on a plane in a few hours with Dare,” he said, not looking up at me, “I’ll be taking care of a few things and then I’ll be home later tonight or maybe early tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I said.
Then he looked up and while I was still looking out the window I could see that he was watching me. He watched me for a long time. I didn’t look in his eyes because I was afraid of what I’d see. I knew in my gut that he was sticking around for revenge reasons. He cleared his throat, “I need to go downstairs and organize a few things. You okay for a bit?”
I nodded, glancing in his direction and then back at the floor. I felt scrutinized, uncomfortable; there was this intensity coming off him that was making my heart race.
“You’ll eat?”
I nodded again.
He leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips and then he leaned down and got into his boots, rolled up his pant leg, and then grabbed the holster and fastened it and put the gun in it. He put the sheathed knife into his combat style boots. The other gun went into the back of his waistband and then he left the room. I felt like I was going to cry again but I didn’t. I was sort of surprised he’d kissed me like that, maybe feeling like my mouth was an unclean place because of what I’d told him last night. I felt my heart tug at the idea that I was wrong.
Why did he rescue me? Why didn’t he just leave me here? And why was the fact that he’d kissed me so touching to me?