know that far worse is to come for me. The least you can do is be honest with me, if you aren’t going to let me go.”
“No one will touch you or hurt you again. I won’t let them.” I don’t realize how much I mean those words until I say them, and I know deep down that I won’t let anyone hurt her or touch her again. I can’t let her go, no matter how compelled I feel to, but I can protect her at least while she is here.
“What’s going to happen to me?” she asks, and I hand her another small piece of the sandwich. She eats it slowly. I’m not sure I want to tell her what’s going to happen, not when I shouldn’t even be in here to begin with. If any of the men saw me in here, I’d have to come up with some kind of excuse, I have no real reason to be in here. It’s unlike me, and I think the men are already starting to notice a change in my behavior.
“Just eat.” I hand her another small piece, but she doesn't reach for it. I want to offer her more than this dry piece of shit sandwich, but I can’t. Yet another item on the long list of fucking things that I can’t bring myself to do for her.
“I’m done.” She shakes her head slightly.
“You need to eat more than a quarter of a sandwich. You haven’t eaten for nearly a week.”
She sighs while continuing to shake her head. “I can’t... I’m not hungry.” Her body sinks more into mine, like she is too weak to keep holding herself up. She stretches out her legs in front of her and the shirt rides up to above her knees, revealing a little more of her skin. I almost throw the tray across the room when I see some dried blood on the inside of her thighs.
I twist to look at her, and she slides down the wall. I catch her before her head hits the mattress. My hands are on her thin upper arms, pulling her up straight before I can stop myself from doing so. Her eyes fly open, and she looks up at me, shock reflecting in her eyes.
“Who hurt you? Did someone come in here again?” My voice comes out much harsher than I intend it to, but I’m fucking furious.
I ordered them not to touch her, told them I’d kill them myself if they did, and yet here she fucking is, clearly hurt. I grit my teeth, wanting to leave the room right this second and find the fuckers who did this to her. All I feel is burning rage. Her eyes go impossibly wide, her body stiff with fear underneath my touch. Fuck, and now I’m hurting her, too. I loosen my grip, and she shakes her head slowly.
“No one came in here again, no one but you.”
“Then why is there blood between your legs?”
She looks down at her thighs and squeezes them together as if out of reflex, as if she’s trying to hide the evidence of whatever the hell happened.
“It’s… It’s nothing.” She tries to pull away from me, but I don’t let her. I watch her face closely, but she won’t meet my eyes. She tries to pull the shirt down to cover her legs more, and her cheeks turn a faint pink. Is she blushing? Now that I’ve taken another look at her, I realize she looks more embarrassed than scared.
“I’m… well, I’m on my period,” she says without looking at me.
I release her at once, feeling like an even bigger asshole than before. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to make all of this go away. When I open my eyes again, I find her staring back at me with tears in her eyes. I look up and down her body. Her hair is matted in spots and greasy. Her legs are filthy, and she has been wearing the shirt I gave her for over a week now.
Christ. I pry my eyes away from her and look around the empty room that holds nothing but a dirty mattress. I can’t take it anymore. Something inside me snaps. It cracks, and the contents seep right out of me. I have to get her out of here and cleaned up, even if it’s just for a few hours.
I stand up, and she immediately starts pleading with me. “Please don’t go, I can get