Page 34 of Red Waters

Yury’s breathing was labored as he lay on top of me, seeming bewildered. “What is happening to me?”

My fingers grazed his back as my legs pulled him closer. I was loving how he felt in my arms. “You are letting someone in your heart.”

His forehead pressed to mine. “But I don’t have one.”

I touched his chest. “You do. It’s right here.”

“Whitney, I…” He panted. “I…”

I kissed him. “Make love to me.”

The murderer insecurely asked, “How?”

“It’s simple. Keep letting me in.”

He did. And as I let him inside me, tears ran down his face. His naked body slowly moved between my thighs as he cried. “What have I done?”

I kissed him. I rewarded him. “Many wrongs.”

With his arms around me, his hands pulled on my shoulders as if wanting to hide away inside the safest place he had ever known. His whisper was raw. “I’m so sorry.”

I held him tight, letting him have all of me. “I believe you.”

His hips surged forward. “I have to go tomorrow.” There was no need to ask why. If he was going to start changing his tragic past, I wasn’t going to stand in his way. He demanded, “Don’t take your leash off ‘til I return. I need time. Do you understand?”

I did. “Anything I can do to help?”

“You already have.” His lips crushed mine.

Our bloody water of life ran many different shades of red that night. It was life-changing, for many beautiful and torturous reasons, but sadly, an epic storm brewed on the top of that same water. Two hurricanes merged to form mass destruction. It wasn’t our faults. We were both merely products of circumstance.

The next morning, Yury was gone. I don’t know for how long; I lost track of time. I was utterly alone again. Only slaves, who were not allowed to speak to me, delivered food, cleaned my room, and changed the sheets. I didn’t need fresh linens. Without Yury there, I reverted back to the dog bed. I can’t explain why. It just felt more comfortable. I did allow myself a pillow and a blanket though.

Slaves would enter the room after the door was unlocked by a guard, then replace one full plate for the almost full one I had barely touched. Yury wasn’t there to feed me. It was as if I had forgotten how to feed myself.

When my starvation would get the best of me, I would lie on the pillow that had an old pillow case on because I wouldn’t allow it to be changed. It smelt like Yury. I would place a small piece of food in my mouth then rub my cheek to the material, eyes closed, imaging Yury petting my hair. It was the only way I could swallow.

One morning, the door unlocked. I rushed to my knees to please Yury, but it wasn’t him. A guard approached and handed me a note. I bowed my head. He looked nervous but left.

The note read:

While I am gone, you are free to watch Link’s videos.

Yury

I had never seen Yury’s writing before. How was I to know it wasn’t his?

At the desk, I nervously tapped a key to wake the laptop. I was surprised to see a video prepared. I believed Yury meant to reward me with it before we got derailed in our madness.

Pressing play, I hungered for Link’s voice. Missing Yury wasn’t so painful as Link began to talk. He didn’t appear as sad. Actually, he looked more focused. I think Yury had skipped some videos because Link sounded older, wiser, and confident. Link sounded like a man.

Not only had the seasons changed without me. Link had, too.

“…so, I have decided what my degree in law will be. I will fight. Fight damn hard for any victim of human trafficking, domestic violence, or sexual slavery. Look out, bad guys, ‘cause I’m coming after you.” As he smiled, I knew what was coming. My ears burned for it. “And if there is a little fiery redhead watching this video, girl, I love you. One. Always have. Two. Always will.”

I touched the screen and said, “I love you, too,” as the bedroom door opened. Spinning in my chair, I gasped in delight. “You’re back.” Yury stood motionless, staring at the laptop screen. Wanting to please him, I slipped from the chair and got on my knees. “I missed you.”

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?” He approached me in an aggressive manner.