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“There you are. You have a friend here!” he says.
“Alessia!” Her name echoes with such hope down the hall, and a young woman comes to stand in the living room doorway. They gape at each other, neither quite believing what they are seeing.
Bleriana!
“O Zot! O Zot! O Zot!” A well of emotion bubbles from Alessia’s chest into her throat, and she dashes down the hall, scooping Bleriana into her arms. “You’re here. How are you here? Are you okay? Did you escape?”
Bleriana starts to cry, and Alessia’s tears push past the hope and joy and incredulity that’s knotted in her throat, as they hug and sob, together.
* * *
Hell. Weeping women. Weeping women chattering fast and furious in Albanian.
Their emotional reunion chokes me for a moment.
Alessia turns a teary face to mine. “How?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. She found me. I think she might have followed me from my office. Ask her.”
Alessia poses the question to Bleriana, who turns a now teary but more hopeful face to me and answers her.
“Yes. She did,” Alessia says.
“I thought I was being followed. Look, I’m going to have a shower. I’ll be a few minutes. I’ll let you two reconnect.”
Alessia reaches out and takes my hand. “Thank you,” she mouths.
“As much as I’d like to take the credit, this is not me. She found us.”
* * *
Alessia turns back to Bleriana. “Tell me. How did you find us? We have been looking for you. Did you escape?” She takes Bleriana’s hand, and they sit on the sofa, hands clasped tightly together.
“They caught me.” Bleriana whispers the words like she’s confessing a terrible sin and with a fear and horror so deep that Alessia’s revulsion rises with the bile in her throat.
She wraps her arms around Bleriana and holds her like she’ll never let go. “You’re here now. You’re safe.”
Bleriana sobs—a dam bursting within her—and holds on to Alessia like she’s her life raft in a sea of awfulness, horror, and terrible abuse. Alessia rocks her gently, as Maxim has done for her, and they both shed tears and more tears. And more. And yet more.
“You’re safe. I’ve got you,” Alessia repeatedly murmurs, comforting herself and Bleriana at the same time.
This could have been her.
Eventually, Bleriana quiets and wipes her nose and eyes on the tissue Alessia hands her.
“If you want to tell me, I am here. I will listen.”
Bleriana’s bottom lip trembles, and she tells her story in a slow, halting voice while Alessia listens and dies a little inside.
* * *
From the safety of the doorway, I watch them talk quietly but intensely. I don’t understand what they’re saying, but Alessia’s calm compassion for this stricken young woman resonates through her entire body. The way she gently holds her hands, strokes her back, her eyes warm with concern. Her concentration is utterly centered on Bleriana and nothing else.
It’s… affecting.
Whatever Bleriana’s telling her, it’s distressing for both of them. I turn away, it’s too painful to watch, and my morbid imagination kicks into overdrive.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
* * *
“How did you find us? We had men looking for you,” Alessia asks.
“We were… rescued. By the English police. I am staying with an English family in a safe house. It’s part of a charitable organization. They are kind. And I must wait to find out if I can stay in England. Anyway, I saw the newspapers. And I recognized you.”
“Ah!” And for a brief moment, Alessia forgives the British press for hounding her and her husband.
“The daughter of the family who is hosting me. Her name is Monifa—she is very kind. She went online. And we found your husband and where he worked. And today, I came to London to find you.”
“And you succeeded.” Alessia beams and Bleriana’s answering smile is radiant, even on her tearstained face.
“So tell me. Alessia, Lady Trevethick. How did this happen to you?” Bleriana’s eyes are alight with her curiosity, the dark shadows momentarily hidden behind her joy in her friend’s good fortune.
“It is a long story.”
* * *
I return to the doorway when I hear laughter. Under Alessia’s tender, calm care, Bleriana has relaxed and no longer looks like the harrowed young woman I met on the doorstep. Her face has softened, and there’s a trace of the young, pretty girl she is, despite the unimaginable horrors she’s endured.
My only hope is that she doesn’t trigger Alessia’s trauma—her nightmares. I didn’t want her back in that awful world. Yet here we are.
Hell. I’m standing in the shadows as a bystander, feeling utterly useless.
What can I do?
And it dawns on me that this used to be my norm.
This was how I felt all the time. Useless.
It’s only since I met Alessia that I’ve felt worthy and purposeful.
Fuck. I shake off the notion as it’s a little disturbing.
There’s no way we’re going to the Hall this evening, so I head into the kitchen and call Danny to let her know.
