Page 101 of Love is Strange
Daddy toldme I needed to stay quiet until he said the word ‘daughter’. It was hard with strange men in the room. Since I was ten years old, I've only ever been around my father and I’m twenty now. I don't remember much before. He told me when my mom died I lost the memories of my early years owing to my grief, and I believe him because, well, I can’t remember anything.
As I step out of the shadows, I am struck by the sight of the big man who is watching the other man punch my father. I momentarily worry for all my precious books but then I’m drawn by his eyes and I forget them in a flash. His eyes are nearly as black as the darkness surrounding me. He sees me, and he knows what I am – he's just like me. I can almost smell the deviance oozing out of him. I inhale deeply to allow his scent to flood my body and senses. His associate, who I think is also his boss, distracts him and orders him to call for more people. Three is already too many for me. I don't want any more in here.
"No." The word feels funny coming from my mouth. It sounds eerie, given it's the first word I’ve spoken in I can’t remember how long. I'm surprised I remember how to talk. I test my tongue against the edges of my teeth before saying, "Please." The man who'd been staring re-focuses his attention on me, and his eyes seem to get even darker as he looks over my body.
“Prez?” he questions but doesn’t take his eyes from me.
“Call them. Nobody else comes in here though.”
The man pulls something out of his pocket. I recognize it as a mobile phone. I’ve seen Daddy use one before. It seems magical to be able to press a button and then speak to someone who is elsewhere in the world. I’ve read about countries thousands of miles away, and it amazes me that such a little device would be able to reach someone there.
“Heat, we got a situation. We need more bodies down here.” The man speaks into the device, his voice a deep timbre, which sends shivers down my spine. I can’t hear the reply on the other end of the line, just a deep rumbling that sounds like the voice of another man.
My daddy groans as the man called Prez pulls him up from the floor. His eye is swelling and his nose bleeding. It’s strange seeing the blood coming from him, unnerving. I stroke down over my side to where I have a cut. It's about two inches long but not wide. It's healing, but when he stuck the knife into my flesh, it hurt. Daddy said it was because I was naughty and disrespected him by not allowing him to do the things to me he likes. The ones where he plays with me…down there. I had my monthly bleed at the time, and it felt wrong. I get so dirty not having the ability to wash, and without any cloths to stop the flow. He likes when my period comes, though. It means I've not made an error like the time I had a baby in my stomach. He did the right thing by beating me until I bled it away, though, because I knew I deserved it when he told me it was all my fault. I look at the man on the phone, and his nostrils are flaring with anger as he looks at where my hand rests on my healing wound.
“Prez, you need to get him out of here. Heat’s on the way.”
My daddy is led or rather dragged from the room, and it's the first time I start to feel anxious. My palms turn sweaty, and I step closer to where he was taken, but I'm prevented from leaving the room by the chains around my wrists.
"Daddy," I call out but there’s no response. I can't see him anymore. I turn around and see the big man is still in the room with me. I'd forgotten about him for a moment with my anguish. "Where's he going?" Stringing several words together requires a lot of thought, and I'm already feeling tired – the exhaustion is causing my head to spin. The man must sense it because he places his phone down on the table and rushes forward to grab me, but I scream and jump backward.
"I won't hurt you," he reassures, but I'm scared and not sure if I can trust him. He's a stranger, and someone I'm not used to, but I can't shake the feeling in my head he's the same as me –filled with darkness.
"Please," I whimper when he takes another step forward. He’s wearing a leather cut similar to the one I've seen on Daddy. It has the same emblem, a skull with brightly shining green eyes and the words Jade Riders sewn into the leather. This man’s, however, also has a badge with an outline of a man holding a sword on it. Above is the word, "Caim". He sees me looking at it, and I quickly lower my eyes to the ground.
“It’s my name, Caim,” he addresses me, and I dare to flick my eyes up to look at him. He’s handsome, a square jawline and a mop of brown messy hair.
“Lay...Layla." I hesitate using my label. It's not what Daddy always calls me, but I don't want to repeatthatword to the man in front of me. He's full enough of anger, and I don't want to give him anymore reason to hate me.
"Layla," he says the word, and it's soft and welcoming. I want to burst into tears, but I know I can’t. Tears have to be reserved for Daddy. They’re his. His reward for treating me well. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to come closer." He holds his hands up in the air to show surrender. "I want to take the chains off your wrists.” He grabs the sides of his leather cut and slipping it off, he slowly kneels and places it on the floor. He stands and pulls his t-shirt over his head. I quickly retreat a few more steps, and I'm back in the dark shadows in the corner of the room, my spine hitting the wall behind me.
“Please. No.” I’m finding it hard not to let the tears, pooling in my eyes, fall.
He doesn’t say anything but bends back down, and placing the t-shirt on the floor, retrieves his cut and puts it on again. He then picks the t-shirt up and holds it out to me.
"I want you to put this on. There’ll be lots of other men here in a minute, and we need to make sure you’re dressed and comfortable."
I shudder. More men.
“You promised they wouldn’t come in here.”
"They won't, but I need to take you out there and to safety."
"Out there?" I exclaim and slide down the wall, bringing my knees up to my chest. "No, I can't."
Continuing to move slowly, Caim comes and sits next to me on the floor. It’s pitch black in the area of the room we’re in, but I can just about make out his presence. I feel him more than see him.
“When was the last time you left here?”
“I do…don’t,” I stammer.
“You don’t?” he repeats with a question.
“After my mom died, Daddy said I wasn’t well, and I needed to stay here otherwise people would take me away from him. I've not left the room since. I think Daddy said it’s been at least ten years." He deeply inhaled a hissing breath. "Are you the people he was talking about? Are you going to take me away from him?"
He doesn’t reply straight away. It’s strange. I can almost hear the cogs of his brain trying to figure out what to say to me.
“What Daddy does to me is wrong, isn’t it?” I blurt out.
