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My clothes are completely soaked, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave her here alone while I go to change.
“Is that okay?” I ask.
Her red-rimmed eyes regard me, and they’re darting back and forth as if she wants to say something, but her lips remain sealed. Then, she parts them and sucks in a small breath, followed by the sound of her chattering teeth. The harsh LED light above the sink is shining directly onto her. I look over her small body wrapped in my towel and the dark brown hair hanging down around her face. I haven’t had the opportunity to see her that well until now, and it strikes me how young she looks.
“Christ, baby. How old are you?” I whisper.
And, of course, there is no answer.
I grab a handful of the material of my T-shirt at my back and pull it over my head, dropping it to the floor. “Don’t be scared. They’re just tattoos,” I say.
The girl’s gaze moves to my torso as she takes in the multitude of grotesque scenes covering my skin. She squints and leans forward, examining the black shapes. Her gaze travels upward until her face is right in front of mine, two brown eyes staring me down.
“Can you please say something?” I ask. “Your name?”
Nothing.
“I’m Pavel. But people usually call me Pasha. It’s a Russian nickname.”
Her eyes widen at that, but she doesn’t utter a word.
“Okay. Let’s take you to bed and get you warm.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, she clings to me again, wrapping her arms and legs as before. I pick up the towel that fell next to the sink, put it around her shoulders, and carry her to my bed.
“I need to change,” I say as I cover the girl with a blanket. “I’ll get you something to wear, too. Is a T-shirt okay?”
I don’t know why I keep asking her questions when she never replies. After I have her tucked into bed, I cross the room and enter my walk-in closet. I change into dry pajama pants and put on another T-shirt, then I rummage around trying to find a smaller T-shirt. I know I have one that Kostya gave me a couple of years ago which was several sizes too small. He had it custom ordered with “Classy but Anal” printed on the front. Idiot.
There’s a shuffling sound, and I look over my shoulder to find the girl standing in the doorway, with the blanket wrapped around her. She takes a step inside and looks at the shelf where I keep my T-shirts. There aren’t that many, maybe ten in total. I only wear them when I work out. The rest of my wardrobe consists of underwear, pajama bottoms, dress shirts, and suits. I don’t own any jeans, sweatshirts, or other casual clothes. I swore to myself years ago that I would never wear jeans again.
Her gaze falls to the bottom shelf where I keep my shoes, then shifts to the right where a rack runs the length of the space. There are at least thirty suits and twice that number of shirts hanging off it. The moment she sees this, she stiffens, takes two steps back, and dashes away.
I grab the first T-shirt off the shelf and exit the closet, finding the girl curled up on the bed with her back toward me.
“I’ll leave this for you here,” I say and put the folded shirt at the foot of the bed. She doesn’t react.
I should get her something to eat, but it can wait. She needs sleep more. I take a seat on the edge of the bed, watching her small form. The edge of the blanket is pulled up all the way to her forehead. I reach out to place my hand on her back, over the blanket, and stroke it. She releases a small sigh and relaxes slightly under my palm. She’s all the way on the other side of the bed, so I climb up and lie down a safe distance from her, and resume soothing her back.
* * *
Something warm presses into my side. I open my eyes and find the girl snuggled into me with her arm thrown over my chest and her face pressed to my upper arm. Seems like we both fell asleep. The clock on the wall across the room shows four p.m. Shit.
As carefully as possible, I untangle myself from the sleeping girl and head into the bathroom to get myself ready for work. When I emerge fifteen minutes later, she is still asleep. I consider waking her to let her know I have to leave but decide not to disturb her.
There isn’t much in the kitchen or fridge because I usually order food or eat at work. I find some eggs, a loaf of bread and some marmalade, and place it all on the counter for her. With that done, I scribe a quick note saying I’ve gone to work and she should eat. Then, I leave it on the nightstand next to the bed. The blanket has slid from her body, so I cover her again, but instead of leaving right away, I watch her for several long moments.
Cold. So cold. I wrap the blanket tightly around myself and sit up in bed. There’s no one around. Where is he? Maybe he’s in another room. I listen for sounds, any sounds, but there is only silence. The floor lamp next to the bed is on, throwing light on a piece of paper lying on the nightstand. I take it and bring it closer to my face. I’ve been nearsighted all my life; I need to hold the note a foot in front of my eyes to be able to clearly make out the writing.
The note says he won’t be back before late tonight. I put the paper back on the nightstand. He left me alone in his apartment. I shudder and wrap the blanket tighter around me. What time is it? How long will I have to wait until he’s back? I scoot back in the bed until I’m huddled in the corner, wedged between the headboard and the wall, and close my eyes.
What the fuck is going on with me? When I woke up this morning, I felt completely fine until he mentioned my family. Just the idea of them finding out what happened to me made me lose it. It was as if I was suddenly thrown into a black abyss. The darkness is too familiar. It was the same void where I spent the last two months, completely detached from everything happening around me. Or to me. It felt like it would swallow me whole. Like invisible, poisonous gas, its toxic whisp encircled my mind, wanting me to let it inside.Dirty, it whispered.Filthy. No one will ever want to touch you again. But then, Pasha stroked my back. He didn’t find me repulsive. The voices stopped, and the black hole closed.
I’m left with this strange conviction that it won’t come back while he’s nearby. But he’s not here now.
When your brother finds out what happened, he’ll be disgusted,the voice whispers in my ear.He won’t love you anymore. No one can love such a miserable creature. Letting strangers fuck you, while you did nothing to fight back. Repulsive.
I breathe slowly in and out, trying to block it out. It doesn’t work.
