operation went as smoothly as possible.
I carry her to the bed, my molars grinding together when I see the ripped dress discarded on the floor. I quickly scan the room, getting even angrier when I see there isn’t even a blanket or sheet on the dirty mattress. I don’t want to put her back on it, but what else am I going to fucking do with her? I didn’t realize the women lived in such shitty conditions, but I suppose offering them anything gives them false hope. Most of these women will end up dead or worse after they’re sold. So, something as superficial as a blanket or pillow won’t matter anyway.
I kneel down next to the mattress, ready to lay her down on it, when her shaking intensifies.
“Please, don’t leave me here, please.” Her words cut through me.
“I can’t help you,” I tell her with a stern voice, but I can’t bring myself to peel her from my body or put her down on the mattress. Something about her makes me want to break every rule.
“Can you stay with me… just for a little while?”
I don’t dare look at her. I should put her down and walk out that door without ever looking back, but the way she clings to me has awakened a protective instinct inside me.
An instinct I thought I’d lost long ago, one I shoved down so deep inside me that it would never see the light of day again. I guess I was wrong. I hadn’t lost the ability to care, I just hadn’t had a reason to.
I sit down on the mattress, resting my back against the cold wall, while continuing to hold her in my arms. She cuddles into me as if she can't get close enough.
“I’m so cold,” she whimpers.
I tighten my arms around her and rub my hands up and down her cold skin, trying to get her warmed up. I need to find her something to wear and get her a blanket. There’s no way I can leave her in here naked like this.
I sit there for a long time, just holding her, attempting to warm her fragile body while she sobs into my chest. I don’t say anything to her. Mostly because there is nothing to say. There is nothing I can offer her that will change the outcome of her future. Selling women is part of my job, and she was brought here, plucked off the street. She might not have asked to be brought here, but she’s here now, and I can’t just let her go.
After a while, her sobs quiet down and eventually, her crying ceases altogether, but her grip on my shirt never eases up. Her breathing evens out and when her head rolls from my chest onto my arm and I see her eyes closed, I know for sure she is out.
I look down at her face, studying her features, taking in her natural beauty. It’s no wonder the men selected her. With her long blond hair framing her heart-shaped face, she looks like a sleeping angel in my arms. My eyes drift down to her split lip. There’s smeared blood across it, a small cut in the corner, and her swollen jaw is turning black and blue with bruising. Looking at her, at how fragile she is, pulls a memory from deep inside my head.
Mira. I try to shake it away, but this situation is all too similar to hers. I’m holding a small broken body in my arms, her eyes are closed, and blood covers her face just like it did Mira’s. And just like back then, I can’t help her. I can’t save her. I can’t save anybody.
“Stop, Mira,” I yell. I hate having to play with my baby sister.
She’s so annoying, all she ever does is follow me and Tyler around.
“Ivan,” she whines, looking up at me with big blue eyes.
“No, Mira, go play by yourself.” I turn back to Tyler. We start walking down the sidewalk in the direction of the playground.
“I want to come with you,” she demands, her tiny feet sounding behind me. I whirl around, and she stops dead in her tracks.
“No. You’re too little,” I boom over her, watching tears glisten in her eyes. I clench my fists at my sides. I feel bad for hurting her feelings, but I don’t always want to play with her. Sometimes, I just want to play with my friends.
“You’re so mean, Ivan. The worst,” she pouts, turning around,