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With the three of them standing around me, their attention firmly on looking me over, I begin to fidget, growing nervous. A man’s attention typically makes me want to run.Theirattention has my body shifting in a different way. One I don’t quite recognize.
“Shoo, shoo, shoo, all of you.” Ana, the housekeeper, hasn’t aged a day since I last saw her. “Abilene, darling, come with me. I have a toasty bath running upstairs for you. The fireplace has been roaring to keep the room comfortable as well.”
“Where are you putting her?” Levan asks as the woman pulls me along behind her towards the stairs.
“That’s for me to know,” she responds, shooting a scathing look over her shoulder at the three of them. I can hear them muttering but not what they’re saying, and as we round the corner of the hallway, I catch all three men standing, staring after us with unreadable expressions on their faces.
Biting my lip, I wonder what’s happening. It’s been years since I’ve seen them…since I’ve been in this house. Since I’ve even thought about the Tsiklauri family. I admit I haven’t wanted to, either. It’s been far too painful to reflect on the time when life wasn’t beating me down. When my family didn’t look at me as a sexual toy but rather as a daughter or a niece.
The reprieve of being in the only place I’ve ever felt truly safe isn’t something I should grow accustomed to. I must keep reminding myself of that. Remember that this temporary rescue was an act of mercy only because Levan recognized me.
“It’s so nice to have you here again, Abi. It’s been far too long since we’ve seen you.” Ana was always one of the kindest people I had ever met. I think I missed her andBebiathe most. The two older women were a presence in my life that I’ve not had since being a small child.
“I’ve missed it here,” I confess as she guides me into a room that smells masculine, like spruce and spice—it’s comforting—and then through to the attached bathroom.
The room glows with candlelight as steam billows from beneath the bubbles of the bath. The fragrance is sweet, like oranges, and I have an intense feeling of welcome. “Take as long as you’d like in here. I’ll place some clothes on the bed for you, and then we’ll have an early dinner in about an hour.” She leaves with a satisfied smile on her face, not saying another word.
Taking care of people is something she has always enjoyed; however, Levan, Valerian, and Zakar are not men who need or want to be taken care of. So, I can only imagine how satisfied she must feel right now.
Staring around the room, I glimpse an empty laundry hamper in the corner that looks too pristine to sully with my dirty clothes. I can’t remember the last time I felt clean. While my father and uncle live in the upstairs part of our home, where it’s neat and tidy—because that’s my task to complete daily—I live in the cellar, with dirt for flooring and aging wood panels for walls. I freeze during the winters, and I certainly don’t remain clean in the slightest.
Everything in this room is stark white. The linoleum floor, the painted walls, the popcorn ceiling. White everywhere. Spotless. And I’m about to contaminate it.
Make it disgusting and filthy.
Just like me.
Staring down into the bubbly tub of water, I slowly strip off my clothes. Not wanting to catch sight of myself under the polyester fabric that scratches my skin, I close my eyes. My throat feels tight, so I concentrate on keeping my breathing even. My chest heaves with each labored inhale, and I dip a toe into the soothing water when I’ve finally removed everything.
Heat.
Warmth.
Infusing my very soul.
It’s overwhelming…stimulating, and tears rush to the surface. I don’t remember the last time I had a warm bath, let alone one where I didn’t have to worry about what came afterwards.
Sinking deeper into the water, I allow my tears to streak down my face and embrace the emotions rushing through me. Between the scent of the room, the soft glow of the candles, and the fact that I’m safe, I can almost imagine myself in another life. That I’m not Abilene Bondar, daughter of Otar Bondar, the worst monster a girl can envision.
Icanbelieve that the bruises on my body aren’t real. That the assault I suffered last night never happened. Icanbelieve that one of the men downstairs is my own personal protector and that nothing will ever harm me again.
The trouble with that fantasy is just that: It’s a fantasy. The bruisesarereal, the assaultisfresh, and I don’t want just one of those men. I’ve been half in love with all three of them for years, but I forgot. Or I suppressed the memories of them because realizing that they were out there without me was harder than holding out hope that they hadn’t forgotten about me.
Opening my eyes, the bubbles have disappeared, and in their place is the bruising. Black to blue to yellow with a mix of green and purple. Everywhere. The bruises are everywhere, and I hate it.
I hatehim. Them.
I hate myself more.
For just a moment, a quick second, I wonder…
Breathing out, I close my eyes and sink beneath the water. Holding the sides of the tub to remain in place, I allow the liquid to cascade over my entire body. This wouldn’t be a bad way to go…
* * *
Zakar
Too long.
