Page 127 of Bones
“It wasn’t a punishment they were meant to survive,” Trey murmured. “That scar on Mac’s face? That was from the whip. He tried to get to his dad during the whipping and took a lash to the face. Just a little bit higher and he would’ve lost his eye.”
“How old was he?” I asked, feeling sick.
“Seven. Somehow his dad survived, but he died a few days later. The wounds got infected and he'd lost so much blood."
I swallowed hard, remembering Mac’s fury at me for taking his lashes, his desperation that I heal myself through him. It made more sense now.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Twenty-seven,” he replied. “You?”
“Twenty-two. So how old were you when Clarity was born?”
“I was, let’s see, nine. Mac was eight.”
“You’re older?”
“By eighteen months and yes, Idopull the oldest brother card whenever I can.”
My heart twinged again, but then I realized something. “Clarity’s only eighteen?” I whispered.
He let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah.”
She seemed older than that, but it wasn't too surprising. Life in a brothel tended to make people grow up fast.
“I’ll carry guilt about her being in there for the rest of my life,” Trey confessed in a low voice.
“How come?”
“When our mom died, her dad, Reed, was still alive. I was old enough that I could’ve taken her in, but Mac and I were training hard to get into the Safeguard. I let Reed take her instead, even though I knew he had a bad gambling problem. He got in a drunken bar fight and got himself stabbed. He owed a lot of debts, so Madame took Clarity in payment. She didn’t go right into…servingpeople, but they worked her so hard makin’ her clean and cook. She started getting sick a lot, and she never seemed to fully recover. And I know she was exposed to, well, a lot of shit that a kid shouldn’t be exposed to. She was always beautiful, and she attracted attention.” His face was so dark. “By the time I convinced Madame to let me take her out, she wouldn’t leave. She got it in her head that staying where she was would protectme.”
I remembered Clarity’s battered face and hot anger coursed through me. He must have sensed it because he glanced down at me and squeezed my hand again.
“I know. I fucking hate it too.” He sighed. “But while she might be physically kinda fragile, she’s so damn smart. Smarter than me and Mac put together. I’ve tried so hard to get her to leave, but she thinks she’d just be a burden. And to be fair, she’s created a real community there. There used to be fights between…the brothel workers.”
I noted how he seemed to avoid using words like “prostitute” and “whore.”
"The woman in charge encouraged grudges and pitted them against each other all the time. Mostly for her own amusement, I think. Clarity slowly changed that. And the others have her back, as much as they can anyway."
I sat quiet for a while, thinking about everything he'd said. After a few minutes, I realized the iron vise on my lungs had disappeared.
“Thank you,” I said, looking back up at him.
He smiled, his eyes so full of warmth. “You’re welcome.”
He released my hand, and I noticed that I didn’t want him to let go.
* * *
We set out walking again and slowly the darkness lightened. The sun rose over the mountain, bathing the snow in a pink and orange glow, before Trey spoke again.
“So where are we going?” he asked cheerfully.
“As far away as possible.” I hadn’t planned that far ahead. My only focus had been to getout.
“Oh good, nice and vague.” I could hear his grin.
“Feel free to go back if you don’t like it.”
