by Marni Mann
She’d told me the truth about Chati. That might earn her a meal.
But there was still plenty of shit I needed to know.
“You’ve got some balls, sending her here,” I said in Thai.
His laugh sounded more like a cackle. “You were a good customer; consider it a bonus. She’s what you like, and she’s free. Win-win.”
“Did you lose your fucking phone? Because, had you called, I would have reminded you that I was done.”
“Ah, come on, man. It’s been a busy night. Lots of boats unloading and all kinds of interesting catches. Wasn’t sure she’d even make it to you, honestly.”
I needed to guarantee Chati wouldn’t send another girl here. That conversation would happen in person and when I had both of my hands free.
“We’ll talk later,” I said and hung up.
I shoved the phone in my pocket and stared at her outline. She hadn’t moved. Hadn’t even made a sound.
“Who was driving the boat, Arin?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“I really don’t.”
“Fuck this.” I turned around and grabbed the door.
She was taking my patience as kindness, and I wouldn’t put up with it for a second more.
I had it open only a crack when she called out, “Huck, stop, please. I’m not lying. I swear I don’t know who they were.”
I glanced over my shoulder, and the light from the hallway shone across her eyes. They were watery and fearful, but they didn’t reveal if she was telling me the truth.
I shut the door, losing the light, so I replaced it with the flashlight on my phone. She winced until she got used to the brightness.
“You have my attention. Don’t lose it because you won’t get it back.”
She crossed her legs in front of her, her arms wrapping around her stomach, her body slowly rocking back and forth. “I just graduated a few weeks ago with my master’s degree. I had some time before starting my new job, so I thought I’d spend it traveling. I picked India because an old roommate of mine was from there, and since living with him, I’d wanted to check it out.” She squeezed the bottom of her shirt, pulling it down, revealing a few bloodstains that I hadn’t seen earlier.
“I was in Mumbai. Had only been there about a week when I met a guy. He took me out for dinner and then to a club. We ended up back at my hotel. I don’t remember much else besides the feeling of the waves underneath me and the hardness of the dock when I landed on it. I…” She looked at the building behind me and at the one on the other side of her, sitting in the alley that ran between them.
“Some guy opened the bag I was in. He asked me a few questions, and then he gave me your name and told me how to get here. I didn’t make it inside.”
Her stare dropped down to her lap, and I realized what she was trying to tell me. She’d pissed herself.
“I wasn’t here long when the lady came out.”
I had a feeling, Chati’s prediction was right. These men hadn’t been trafficking her; they had been trying to get rid of her. I was sure they had taken her credit cards and sold her passport. Maybe they’d even raped her. She’d probably woken up before the drugs wore off. They’d beaten her badly enough, so she wouldn’t remember anything. Leaving her in Bangkok would make it more challenging to backtrack to India, especially without a passport.
“Why didn’t you run your ass straight to the police station?”
She shook her head so hard, I was sure she was getting dizzy.
“No police. They…” As she paused, I saw her drift to a place that wasn’t here with me. “They hurt me once. I’ll never trust them again. No doctors either, so please don’t call one.”
“What do you want, Arin?”
“I want to go home.” Her voice changed, but her eyes still held strong.
“Where is home?”
“New York City.”
I ran the flashlight down her legs, over her bare feet, and back up to her face. “How do you plan on getting there?”
“I’m going to have to go to the embassy and figure out how to replace my passport and buy a return ticket. I only had a one-way. But I have no cash on me, no credit card, and no one back in the States to call for help. This is all going to take some time and a good chunk of money, and I’ll need somewhere to stay in the meantime.”
Whenever I asked one of the girls I’d purchased what they wanted, their response was always, “I just don’t want to be hurt anymore.”
They had been battered and abused and tortured to the point where they could barely remember home. Their only wish was for the pain to stop.
But that wasn’t what had come from Arin’s mouth.
Because she wasn’t like the others.
She had been beaten, but she hadn’t been broken.
She had enough sense to formulate a plan.
And, even though her shaking body told me she was coming off something, her detox wasn’t severe, like all the others I’d seen.
I needed to know how badly she wanted my help and what she was willing to sacrifice.
I waited until I felt her eyes bore through mine. “That place inside there”—I pointed with my head toward the hallway—“is a brothel. My girls sell their cunts for a percentage of the take. They get a little extra for anal and much less if they only give head. What hole of yours can I sell, Arin?”
She tucked her legs into her chest. This time, she fought through the pain, and I only heard it in her breathing. “I didn’t know. I…thought—”
“You thought the guy at the docks sent you to someone who would hold you while you cried and put medicine on your cuts and give you everything you needed to get home.” I kicked a rock in between the doorway to keep it open and moved over to her, kneeling so that she could see the seriousness up close. “This isn’t America, princess. I don’t know what you thought when you packed up that backpack and headed to this part of the world, but we don’t do handouts here. We work for what we have even if that means selling our fucking holes. So, tell me, what are you willing to do to get back home?”
“O-oh my G-God.”
There it was.
The three words she had spoken meant nothing to me. It was the sounds she had made. It was the quivering of her lips that had nothing to do with the drugs. It was the fear that had filled her eyes.
I’d been waiting for desperation. I’d finally seen it, heard it. Hell, I’d even felt it.
“Arin, I’m not going to ask you again. What are you willing to do to get back home?”
It took her several seconds to respond, “Wh-whatever you ne-need me to.”
“I’m going to bring you up to the third floor and let you get some sleep. In the morning, once everything is out of your system, I’ll tell you what I want from you.”
“O-okay, but, Huck?”
“What?”
“I don’t think I-I can make it up the st-stairs.”
When I shot my arm underneath her knees and another across her back, she screamed. The sound fucking killed me, and I immediately pulled away.
She clenched my hand and stopped me from going anywhere. “Just try and b-be gentle. I’m sorry. I-I hurt. Everywhere.”
She wanted gentle. She wanted a place to stay. She wanted a way to earn money.
She was already giving me a fucking headache.
I used the same amount of strength, but I moved slower, lifting her into the air and pulling her against my chest. As I got us into the hallway, she rested her head into my neck.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The knife was back. This time, it jabbed into my right tonsil.
She felt so tiny in my arms, and I wondered when she had last eaten. One thing I knew for sure was that the girl needed a bath. I could smell the piss on her jeans and the dirt in her hair.
I felt her body relax as soon as I began to climb the stairs.
Once we were inside my apartment, I took her into the guest bathroom a
nd set her on top of the toilet. I turned on the water to fill the tub.
“Lawan will be up in a few minutes. She’ll get you whatever you need.”
“Y-you’re not st-staying?”
“You’re about to strip your clothes off and get inside that bath. If you want an audience, I’ll gladly stick around and watch.”
In this light, I could really see the gashes and bruises, and the marks showed me they’d hit her with an open fist and a closed one. Her long dark hair was matted with blood. That wasn’t the way I preferred my women, but I wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to see a beautiful pair of tits. I had a feeling hers would be worth staring at.
She shook her head, her body rocking over the toilet seat. “Then, wh-where are y-you going?”
She’d been through some shit, and that was the only reason I’d tolerate her questions.
I just wouldn’t tolerate them for long.
“Lawan will tell you how to get in touch with her. Do not come searching for either of us. Do not ask her about me. Do not ask her anything unless it’s something you need. Understood?”
“Yes.”
Blood from her big toe dripped onto the floor. She noticed it the same time I did.
I went to the door and held it in my hand, taking one last glance at her. “Welcome to Bangkok, Arin.”
Not waiting for her reply, I shut her inside the bathroom, and I unlocked my office, taking a seat at the desk. Then, I reached inside the drawer for the bottle I’d been keeping in there for the last several months.
That was the amount of time that had passed since I purchased any girls. Since I decided I wouldn’t buy any more.
Since I realized I couldn’t.
Arin
Oh God.
My eyes quickly darted around the room and landed on the wastebasket by the sink. I leaned out of the tub, clenched my fingers around the rim of the trash can, and dragged it over. Water sloshed everywhere as I dropped my face into the opening and vomited mouthfuls of bile. Pure acid continued to shoot through my lips, stinging my esophagus, turning the white plastic completely yellow.
“Oh, Arin,” a woman said as she opened the bathroom door, rushing to the cabinet. “Let me get you a washcloth.”
I heaved again, still not feeling any relief and too sick to care that I was naked and this stranger could see my bare, beaten body.
My throat felt like a book of lit matches had been pressed against it. My nostrils stung so badly, I swore blood dripped from them. And, with the pain from my bruised ribs shooting around to my back, I couldn’t take another hurl. It hurt too much. Somehow, I needed to calm my stomach. So, I swallowed some air and pushed myself deeper into the water, resting my shoulders against the cool tiles, and I thought about home.
Not the throbbing, not the nausea.
But home.
“Here, Arin,” the woman said, setting a cold washcloth over my forehead. “That should make you feel better.”
I looked past the icy fabric that hung over the tops of my eyes, and I watched her pick up my heap of bloody clothes. It had hurt so much to take those off. My shirt had stuck to the oozing cuts, and my jeans had squeezed the bruises. I had screamed the entire time, and I was sure that had caused my stomach to hurt even worse.
The lady threw the clothes outside the bathroom door and immediately closed it.
“W-who are y-you?” I asked when she faced me again, unable to stop my teeth from chattering.
If I had the energy, I would have draped my hands over my chest and crossed my legs. But every ounce I’d had was spent running to Huck and falling on the ground outside his back door.
“I’m Lawan. I found you outside. Remember?” She held another cloth in her hand, and she coated it with soap.
“What are y-you going to do with th-that?” I lifted my finger to point toward the cloth.
She held it right above my arm and slowly lowered the washcloth until it rested on my skin. “I’m going to clean you.” She moved it in a circular motion, and when our eyes caught again, she said, “I have three daughters. I’ve worked at this brothel for five years. Don’t worry; I’ve seen it all.”
I wondered about the different things she had seen. I got the sense they had been far worse than the way I looked. Still, I was curious about what Huck had told her, what he’d ordered her to do.
Remembering his words kept me from asking.
“Do not ask her about me. Do not ask her anything unless it’s something you need.”
“Welcome to Bangkok.”
“Just relax,” she said. “I won’t hurt you. I’m only going to take care of you.”
She had motherly eyes. The kind I missed. The kind that looked at you to find something wrong, so she could fix it.
There were lots of things wrong.
But none that she could fix.
“They gave you some drugs.” She placed the cloth on my other arm and gently ran it up to my shoulder and down to my wrist. It skimmed across each knuckle, my nails, even my palm. “A good sleep, and they’ll be out of you.”
The drugs had been put in my drink. It was the reason my belly was queasy, why I couldn’t stop shivering. Why the details of that whole night weren’t crisp.
What the hell did he give me?
“After I get you washed, would you like to eat?”
Her question made my stomach churn even harder.
I shook my head but felt the need to clarify in case she didn’t offer it again. “Maybe after I sleep, if that’s okay?”
The last time any food had been in my mouth was the night I went to the restaurant in Mumbai. I wondered how long ago that was. By the length of the stubble on my legs, it had to have been at least a few days.
I quivered. This time, it wasn’t from the drugs.
“Of course,” she answered.
She reached for the cup sitting next to the sink, dipped it into the water, and carefully dumped it over my hair. When my locks were wet enough, she lathered them in shampoo and rinsed it out, and then she covered them with conditioner.
“Much better,” she said, wringing the strands that now felt so soft against my skin. “Lots of dirt. Look.” She pointed at the little specks that floated on top of the water. Then, she got a new cloth and began to scrub my face.
The grime was like a reflection, showing me how disgusting I was. I felt even worse on the inside. I couldn’t remember a time when I had ever felt this sick, this weak, this vulnerable.
But Lawan had told me she wasn’t going to hurt me, that she would only take care of me.
I believed her, and I wasn’t sure why.
So, when she drained the water and helped me stand, wrapping a towel over my hair and another around my body, I knew she would then take me to a bed.
And she did.
The bedroom was directly across the hall. It was a simple queen-size with a frame. No headboard, no fancy comforter like mine at home. Still, it looked so cozy with the white blanket and feather pillows.
Lawan had me sit on the end of the mattress, and then she went into the bathroom again.
Next to me was a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt. They appeared a few sizes too big, and I was sure that was so they wouldn’t press into my bruises or rub over my cuts.
I dropped the towel and lifted the shorts, sticking my foot through the right opening. I was just getting it past my second ankle when she walked back in.
“Lotion?” She held the bottle up, so I could see it.
I glanced down at my navel. A purplish mark the size of my hand stretched across the side of my stomach. There was a similar one on my hip and bite marks across the tops of my breasts.
I ground my teeth together, breathing out of my nose, trying to find the calm.
“I think it’ll hurt too much,” I said.
She knelt in front of me and helped shimmy the shorts up to my waist. Then, she opened the T-shirt and slid it over my head. I held her arm to stand, and she brought me to the head of the be
d. I crawled inside, feeling the blanket tuck over me and the pillows fluff underneath my wet hair.
“If you need me, hit number two.” She placed a cell phone on the nightstand and waited for me to nod. “Need anything now?”
She had already done so much and had been so nice.
So much nicer than Huck.
Now, all I had were questions—about him, about this place.
About the pieces I was unable to put together.
I still knew better than to ask.
I’d made it out of the alley. I’d been given a place to stay. I had a woman taking care of me. I didn’t want to do anything that would put me on the street.
“No, I’m okay,” I replied. “Thank you for your kindness. I didn’t expect it, but I appreciate it.”
She pressed her hands together, holding them close to her face, and she bowed her head. Then, she turned off the light and closed the door.
The room was mostly dark. There wasn’t a TV. There was only a nightstand, lamp, and a picture on the wall of a man holding a snake. The snake was wrapped around his neck, the head on one shoulder and the tail on the other. It was framed and hung between the two windows where I could hear the street below. The snake reminded me of the one on Huck’s hands. Heads were tattooed on the backs of his palms, and I was pretty sure I saw hints of a tail inked on his neck.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen a tattoo like that.
Good God.
I closed my eyes and kept my body perfectly still. If I didn’t move, maybe I wouldn’t hurt as much. And, maybe if the pain lightened just a little, I’d be able to fall asleep.
Maybe I’d dream of home.
Or maybe this was all a dream.
At least it felt that way with my mind this fuzzy.
But then I heard Huck’s voice inside my head, and I was reminded of everything that had happened from the moment I got thrown on the dock.
I looked at the picture on the wall again.
In a room full of almost nothing, it was everything I needed.
This definitely wasn’t a dream.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
And I finally let myself relax.
Welcome to Bangkok.