Page 22 of Choke

I feel like an asshole. Top of the line, piece of shit coming through.

I clear my throat. “He called her a bitch.”

It’s funny that even after all these years of being with Atlas, I still can’t handle him being upset. Since the day he cracked open my heart, all I’ve wanted is to help him thrive. He’s the first person I loved besides my mother. Atlas's pain makes me panic, and I’ll do whatever is necessary to end it.

“What are you doing?” Atlas asks

I snap my pants and smooth my t-shirt. “She’s getting off work, and I don’t like the idea of her walking home late at night.” I lean in and kiss Atlas on the forehead. “Do you want to come with me?”

Atlas shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

I place a finger beneath his chin and tip his head back so his eyes meet mine. “I love you.”

He nods. “I love you, too.”

17

CALLUM

Some people work because they need to eat. Others because they long for riches and fame. Then there are people like her, those who take a vocation not because it will lead to fame and riches but to help others.

Staring at the raven beauty, it’s not hard to see the black circles under her eyes or the redness within them. I often watch as she leaves the building with her shoulders slumped and defeat consuming her entire frame. Yet some nights, she wears a radiant smile on her majestic face as she walks. Her steps carry a quiet triumph like someone stepping into the sunlight after years in the shadows.

Why did she choose this line of work? How can she throw herself into the constant misery of broken people thrust into devastating lives? People with bleak futures, constantly digging for a semblance of joy. Every day, I see her embrace those society has discarded with pure love.

Her touch and her words contain no malice or judgment. She gives these people hope in a world of despair and never asks for anything in return other than their acceptance of her help to enrich their lives.

How different would my life be if I’d been assigned a social worker like her instead of the tired, miserable men and women who were placed in my path? Individuals worn down and disillusioned by the system, losing all faith in its potential for improvement or reform.

I see how gentle Mona is with those society has discarded as vermin. How she shows them beauty when all they’ve known is disgust. She judges no one. She doesn’t condemn or scold. She simply smiles and tells them they’re worthy. She gives them the same gift she gave me. The knowledge that I’m better than I was driven to believe.

She is the definition of poetry in motion. A cascading flow of beauty that dances in the darkness. Something beautiful in a world riddled with violence, misery, and destitution.

She is the paragon of virtue, and I am the demonic sinner who longs to corrupt her. The darkness casting a shadow over her light. Even when she’s forced to bear witness to the most barbaric acts, she never once steps into the darkness. She stands tall even in the most impoverished of situations, fueled by the embers of hope burning in her heart.

I stand in the shadows, intoxicated by her, as I watch her lock up the community center. I devour the high of her melodious voice as she hums to herself. Her captivating beauty holds me frozen as if under a spell. She possesses a beauty that haunts both my dreams and nightmares

Mona has a calming influence—an ability to tame the most violent of thunderstorms into refreshing summer rain.

It still bewilders me how she provided me with unimaginable peace while I held a gun to her temple and uttered disgusting words laced with malevolence. She didn’t even blink at my threats. I wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t believe me or because she would rather die than bend to any man’s will. Hersilent defiance captivated me from the moment I laid eyes on her.

Atlas is wrong about one thing. It’s notusMona can’t love; it’sme.

“I’m not kidding, little girl. I have no problem decorating these mundane walls with your blood and brains,” Marcus sneered in his thick German accent. His bloated fingers played with the loose strands of her raven hair. “Pretty Mona, it would be such a shame if I had to get rid of you before you fulfilled your full potential.”

“I won’t break for you or anyone else. You can starve me, beat me, rape me, but I will never break.”

Marcus chuckled. “Oh, silly girl. You think you’re the first brave woman I’ve seen? You think you’re the first girl who’s strolled into my path believing you’re strong and defiant?” Marcus leaned over, his lips barely brushing the beauty’s mouth. “Sweet child, the strong ones are my favorite to decimate. You present the greatest challenge.”

My hand twitched with the urge to move the barrel of the gun from Mona’s head to his, but I remained still. I wasn’t stupid. I knew he had guns trained on me in case I stepped out of line.

Marcus gripped the hem of Mona’s blue t-shirt and ripped it, exposing her black satin bra. “Look at you. Aren’t you delectable, Mona?”

Mona held Marcus’s gaze, and her pretty lips tilted into a smile. “Aren’t you pathetic, Marcus?”

In a swift move, Marcus seized her dark hair, causing her to grimace. “You’re different, Mona. I’ve been kind to you. Much kinder than I am to the others. But if you step out of line, I’ll break you just like I broke them.”

Two kinds of women existed in our community—those who came willingly looking for salvation and those brought here by force.

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