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He looks down at the floor and I can see his body shaking. Is he angry at me or for me?
There is a knock at the door and he gets up to meet the person. He comes back from around the corner holding a few blankets.
He pulls off the current blanket on me and places a new warm one over me. “Oh my god, this is amazing.” He smiles and tucks it around me.
“Thank you for helping me.” I need him to understand how grateful I am that he’s here, helping me and that I’m not alone right now.
He reaches out and takes hold of my hand, squeezing gently. “Do you need me to call anyone? I will be here for you until a friend or family member arrives. I’m not leaving you alone.”
I shake my head no. “I don’t have any family and no friends to turn to so I appreciate this.” My bottom lip trembles, the tears I have held back through all this are threatening to burst free.
“It’s okay to cry. You’ve been through a lot.”
His kindness is my undoing. I cover my face and cry for the girl who was just reading in the park; for the woman who let a man take advantage of her and for the woman who has been hurt in ways no one should ever be hurt.
I can feel him hovering over me and every sob has my back hurting, pulling at the stitched-up wounds all over it. “Can I hold you?” he asks me.
I hesitate a minute, unsure if I’m ready for someone to touch me. But I so need to be held right now, to feel safe.
I nod, tears rolling down my face. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest. The pain in my heart is worse than my wounds.
He sits on the edge of the bed, making sure not to jostle me. He pulls me to him, holding my face gently and scoots towards me until my face is pressed against his chest.
“You’re safe; I have you,” he whispers to me softly. My whole body is shaking from the power of my sobs.
I grieve some more for the girl who has been through so much trauma; for the woman I used to be and the possibility of the woman I could have become.
I don’t know who I am anymore, but I know I want to live more than anything. I fought with everything in me so I can make it out of there.
That is one thing I do know. I will live and I will live for the person who made it out of hell.
He pulls back slightly and wipes away my tears. Why is he so nice to me? “Thank you for being here but you don’t have to be here.I’ll be okay,” I tell him even if my heart is twisting at the idea of being alone.
I’m so scared of the thought.
The door opens and a nurse walks in pushing a cart filled with gauze pads. Isaac scoots away from me, but doesn’t let go of my hand.
“I need to clean your wounds,” the nurse tells me. She has a sympathetic look on her face. I dry my face and wipe away the rest of my tears.
“If you don’t mind, can you set your legs off the side of the bed?” she asks me and moves behind the bed.
Isaac takes my hand and helps me turn in the bed very slowly, my back screaming at me the whole time.
I take the pillow from the head of the bed, putting it under my stomach and leaning over. Isaac sits in front of me, holding my hands.
My eyes connect with his, so thankful he is here with me, but so confused as to why at the same time. Does he pity me?
Right now, I can’t bring myself to care about that.
I can feel her untying my hospital gown, exposing my back. I can hear her sharp inhale as she looks at my wounds.
I know it’s horrible because I felt every whip & mark across my skin as it happened to me. All because I wouldn’t give In.
They wanted women who would bend to the will of their buyers. They tried to force me anyway they knew how and this was one of the things they used against me.
Nothing would be as horrible as losing myself. I’d rather die.
“I am so sorry. This is going to hurt.”
