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A hand clamped over my mouth before I could scream, and a large armed wrapped around my torso, pinning my arms to my sides as I stared at Tyson, pleading with him, wide-eyed. There was no sense in pretending I wasn’t afraid. I don’t think I had it in me anymore to cover the fear. I was always so carefully holding myself together around him, and I had allowed myself to relax, foolishly thinking our conversation had ended.
I blinked my way through the tears that threatened to surface and stared at Tyson as he smiled.
“Since I’m doing you a favor, you can do one for me.” His eyes flickered again to the man standing behind me. I knew nothing about him except his physical strength and barrel-like chest I was pressed against. “And Kenrick here has been looking at getting into the business, so maybe you can show him how a good whore fucks.”
My scream ofnowas lost against Kenrick’s hand as he dragged me backward through the bar.
ZAQIEL
“I can’t help you unless youlet mehelp you.”
It seemed I had said those words a lot since being in this city. Other places, other times, and people were more open to help. But here, the distrust of strangers, and even families, ran thick through the residents’ veins. They figured if I was offering them help, then I must be doing it to gain something from them, and usually, the price was too high to pay for whatever was offered in return. A price they were unlikely to find out until they had made a proverbial deal with the devil.
If only they knew the truth.
So, of course, they didn’t believe there was nothing I wanted in return, so I had to show them. But first, that meant pestering them until they let me help. Although sometimes, even that wasn’t enough, and people got violent. Sometimes I simply had to leave them be, which hurt more than seeing them in pain in the first place because it felt like they were choosing the pain out of some misguided understanding of my motives. What’s really happening is they were choosing their current pain over the potential unknown pain of letting a stranger into their lives.
I understood, but that didn’t make it any easier to stomach.
“I can helpyou,”she crooned, her lips close to my ear as she pawed at my chest through my clothes. Her hips were constantly in motion as she moved against me in time with the loud music in the club, like all those girls on the stages dotted around the room. I didn’t look at them, I only watched her. I knew she was beautiful. I wasn’t blind. The tight red dress she wore left almost nothing to the imagination, hugging around her waist and petite breasts. But I didn’t see her that way. She had been openly flirtatious since I approached her, and I could tell she was looking for an escape from her reality—one night away, where she could pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.
She was lucky she ran into me, for I don’t imagine many of the men here would have the same intentions I did.
But she was lost, a lamb in need of shelter and care.
She was beautiful, but I wasn’t here for pleasures of the flesh.
Grabbing her shoulders, I held her at arm’s length and watched as she gazed at me, heavy-lidded with her ruby red lips parted in silent invitation.
“There’s a women’s shelter at the edge of the city. I can take you there, and they can help you.”
Her demeanor changed in an instant. “Fuck the shelter. They’ll keep me for three days, then send me home.”
The look of seduction vanished from her face and was instantly replaced with anger. The pout dropped, and her lips pressed together as her frown darkened her features. When she tried to pull free from my grasp, I increased my grip on her shoulders.
“You’re hurting me,” she whispered.
“Hehurts you,” I said.
She stopped struggling, and with wide eyes, took me in again, her gaze sweeping up and down my body as though looking for some outward sign I could be trusted or, perhaps, a large sign flashing the wordsstalker—beware. I had been watching her on and off for a while. The man she lived with beat her almost daily, and while he didn’t lay a hand on her son, I can only imagine that was through her taking the beatings instead.
She shouldn’t have to.
But he kept her off the street and the dancer’s pole where he found her. He pays her rent and has made her believe that she needs him, that without him, she’s nothing and useless and will surely die and drag her son down with her. The truth was, while dancing, financially she was doing just fine without him. He was the one who gambled the money away, not her, and who spent his and her funds on drugs instead of food and schoolbooks. She didn’t need rescuing from the club, she simply needed rescuing fromhim. He’d gotten himself so far into her head she didn’t believe she was capable of anything better. I’d seen this story a hundred times over—young men and women alike who had been tricked into thinking they needed someone they didn’t. They were manipulated and molded to believe this person only wanted to care for and love them and needed their devotion so much their life would fall apart without them.
It wasn’t always the small woman who fell for a man physically capable of hurting her. I had learned looks could be incredibly deceiving and had come across women who were just as proficient at that level of manipulation and control, both with and without the violence.
But this woman, she kept coming back to the club, chatting with the people who worked there and knew so well she could trust them. They told her to come back, begged her, told her they could protect her, and she could even sleep in the room upstairs until she found a better place.
They were right, but she wouldn’t listen.
I’m not here to rescue everyone from this end of the city, as though if we could evacuate this entire area, everyone would instantly have their problems solved. It doesn’t work like that, and it took me longer than I care to admit to realize places like this aren’t filled with the lowest of humanity, but also those who had run into bad luck, circumstances outside of their control, or simply born into it.
No, I’m here to offer a leg up to those who need it, however small that might be.
So I’m trying to get her to listen to me, a total stranger to her. Why I think she’s going to listen, I’m not sure. But here’s the thing—I have to try and keep trying, and I’ll try over and over again to save as many people as I can even though I know this part of the city will never change, like thousands of others like it across the globe.
This city, though, I feel like I’ve adopted it as my own to care for. It’s become almost a personal challenge to me. There are areas where it would be easier to help, but easy isn’t why I’m here.
