CHAPTER 3
Beth stood still in agony under the hot water. She felt like if she could bathe and wash herself, it would remove some of the nightmare staining her pores. The pain would be worth enduring for that.
It took her thirty minutes just to wash her hair with breaks every few minutes, The citrus, minty smell of the soap seemed to clean her from the inside, and she couldn’t stop from washing her hair with it a second time. She borrowed the suds from the second wash to take care of the rest of her body. Feeling the lumps and bumps all over brought a sudden avalanche of sobs up her chest.
No more, no more, no more, please. She needed to move forward. Get well. She allowed her thoughts to latch on to Sahvrin. Sahvrin her strange savior. Where was he? God, he was right, it was a miracle that he found her. She considered the tender sounds in his voice, the endearing words he used with her. How handsome he was. Very. Very, very handsome.
It wasn’t good to fixate on him, but he was the only distraction she had. As long as she remembered that, then she could protect her emotions. It was the one thing her college professor had drilled into her head—don’t lose track of your emotions. Use them, but always return them where they belong. Psych 101.
She got back to Sahvrin. How old was he, anyway? Maybe his thirties. He had a sister her age. That’s how he saw her he’d said.
By the time she’d managed to wash every inch of her aching body, she’d ended up in some odd corners with him. She might have thought he was religious if it wasn’t for her first meeting with The Mean Bishop man. Then again, his anger had been almost a righteous one if not common sense. Could be a kind of…swamp priest. Was that even a thing?
He’d ask more questions soon and she was ready to tell him all the answers she knew.
“Ma-Petite?”
Her stomach jolted at the sound of his deep yet soft voice. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
God, not hardly. “I’m getting out now.”
“I will heat your food and your tea.”
He’d cooked for her. Or he’d just cooked. He made that tea for her. She realized what she was doing. Looking for things that meant more than they did. Noted. She would repay him for everything. She had plenty of money and by the looks of his home, he could use some it would appear. Although he didn’t seem the least bit lacking in anything. She’d have to find a way to repay him, one he’d accept.
She also needed to call her father. Once she did that, she’d focus fully on her recovery. She was a victim of a horrific crime, this was her reality. Many women were every day, and they overcame. She would do the same. One day at a time. Then he’d see she wasn’t a child, she was a woman of strength and determination to learn from her mistakes. A mature, strong, independent woman. She’d like very much to at least recover some integrity.
By the time she got to the getting dressed part, her will power had taken a dive. She was struggling to remember why she needed to push through the pain.
Focus. Don’t stop now.
She eyed the clothes on the floor that she’d dragged in with a foot. She used her toes as tweezers and slowly brought the white t-shirt up and grabbed it with her hand. Another thirty seconds and she was working it over her head. Pulling in the scent, she closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the smell. Almost like…fresh, clean, minty earth and…something else she didn’t recognize. Smelled amazing. She’d ask what kind of detergent he used. If she was able to take anything good with her from her experience here, let it be this smell. She’d buy a lifetime supply of it.
The flannel pants were a little rough feeling, more so than the t-shirt. Definitely no fabric softener in his laundry. But not so rough it would bother her. Mild panic hit at remembering she had no clean bra or panty. The thought of putting on the dirty ones made her skin crawl. But it was all she had, she needed to wash them at least.
The last thing on the endless impossible tasks was her hair. She faced herself in the small mirror over the sink and gasped at the sight. Dear God, what a mess she was. Her hair, her face. She angled her head, trying to see herself for the first time. Was difficult to see anything around the swelling and discoloration. Did he really see her as an adult teenager? She’d honestly thought she looked older than her age.
She glanced down at her chest where her very un-child-like nipples pushed against the fabric. Oh God, that wouldn’t work. She’d wash her bra and wear it wet. She wouldn’t let herself come across as an absent-minded nipple showing-off tramp. She knew the kind, she’d seen them before in her own circle of friends in college.
She got back to the matter of her hair while her bra and panty soaked in the sink. She looked around in the small cabinet and located a wooden tray with a small black comb. She’d likely get it lost in her hair and need his help to cut it out. Not happening.
Eyeing herself in the mirror, her waist long hair felt suddenly very stupid. She blinked back a rush of burning tears, steadying her shaky breaths while running her fingers through it. Felt like thirty minutes before she finally worked through all the major knots.
“I’m just checking on you Ma Petite,” he gently called at the door, making her jump.
“I’m almost done. Sorry,” she said, her words shaking with the rest of her. She held on to the sink, closing her eyes as pain ran hot circuits through every muscle she had and then some. She was sweating now, she realized. This was stupid.
She carefully squeezed the soapy water out of her undergarments then put them back in and repeated. She let out the water and filled it up again, rinsing till the water ran clear. Ringing them out turned into a quick joke. She had zero strength. Mercy. They’d have to drip dry on her body.
Slowly lifting the shirt, she fought with everything left in her to wrap the bra around and fasten it. “Oh God,” she gasped, after managing. She leaned her forearms and head against the mirror as black spots swam in her vision.
Five more minutes and she won the bra war. All that was left was putting her arms back in the t-shirt. The panties could wait. She’d let them dry somewhere inconspicuous.
Finally done, she realized she needed to pee, and the idea brought tears to her eyes. Lowering her body to that toilet brought her will power back to ground zero. She fought the need to cry, slowly shaking her head with her eyes closed. No more crying. Not now. Maybe later in bed, not when you’re about to face Sahvrin.
As she made her way down to the commode, she stifled and choked back the pain in her sides and ribs. Jesus, Jesus. She lost track of how many times that man had kicked her. Surely, he’d broken something. Or fractured.
At last done, she took hold of the bathroom door handle and turned. She gripped the door jamb as the door opened.
“Ma Petite!” he said, hurrying to her. “You made it.” The pride in his tone was suddenly worth every ounce of agony. “Such a fighter, you are,” he said at her side, taking hold of her arm. “Let me help you.”
The moment she traded the door jamb for his arm, her legs gave out. As if expecting exactly that, he scooped her up in his arms again. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t apologize,” he scolded, this time his voice firmer as he hurried her to the bed. “You’ve done too much already. Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” she said, wincing even though he lay her so carefully in the bed.
“I have your food, I will feed you.”
“I can…probably manage.”
He turned and pulled the small table next to the bed again and sat. “Ahhh, I should have sat you up.”
She began to move, feeling like she could possibly raise herself on her elbow. He assisted her until she was sitting up again. Probably better, pain had flared to a constant throb in her right shoulder. She slowly reached for the bowl, intent to not be an invalid but he shook his head.
“Let me, Ma Petite. You overworked yourself.”
She stared at him, torn between not wanting to look weak and giving him what he seemed to need. Why did he need it? Because you remind him of his baby sister.
She put her hands in her lap, closing her eyes briefly, and when she opened them, he said, “Amen?”
He thought she’d prayed. The idea that he was a religious man returned and she lowered her head. “No, I… should have though. I am now,” she added, closing her eyes, and thanking God for everything. She wasn’t nun material, but she tried her best to be a good person. “Amen,” she mumbled, finding him watching her with a small smile that made her uncomfortable. “What?”
He shook his head and lowered it, stirring her food. “Nothing, Ma Petite. It’s not important.” He ended the possible discussion by presenting a spoonful of food. Her stomach took over and she opened her mouth carefully and took the bite. Not even the pain in her busted lip and jaw could keep the desperate “mmmmm” from pushing up her throat. She’d closed her eyes, savoring it, but swallowing brought another round of agony and flashes of strangulation. She forced the food to stay down as another bite waited. She latched her will-power to his perfect, full lips like a life preserver.
“You like it?”
She took the bite, again her mmmmm coming, louder than before as she nodded. “What is this?” There was fish and other meat.
“Fish coubion and sausage.” He stirred it and brought the spoon to her mouth again. “The trout is fresh, and the sausage is made by my father. Beef and chicken. The rest I grow myself, all the herbs and vegetables.”
Wow, he grew his food? Amazed, she ate the bite, never remembering loving any food so much as she did this. Was it because every appetite she possessed was starving and being fed all at once? No doubt. She took the next bite, not letting herself care. She couldn’t control any of that. It was what it was, and she would enjoy the good things that came when they came.
After the bowl was empty, he presented blue metal looking cup. “Your tea, ma che`re.”
She didn’t say a word as she gulped it down and finished with a huge sigh. Eyes closed, she began the process of laying back down, beyond ready to sleep. She welcomed his arm around her shoulders as he aided her in the agonizing feat. “Thank you,” she finally managed after she lay there with her world spinning. “For everything.”
“It is the least I can do,” he said softly. The slide of his warm finger across her forehead felt like heaven. “Ma Petite, I should let you sleep but I need to ask you some questions.”
She tried to nod. “Okay.”
She felt him sit on the bed, happy he stayed close. “How did you find yourself in this terrible situation?”
The question seemed bigger than life and complicated. What had brought her to those final moments of stupidity that led to the abduction? It was far more than one wrong decision or turn. “I…always wanted to visit Louisiana,” she said, starting there, since it seemed to apply. “My father never wanted me to. Fought me all the way till the day I left. He wanted me to go to Paris with him instead. Guess he thought that was more romantic to his little girl, but I wasn’t like most girls, I had dreams of coming for the famous Crawfish Festival ever since I did a school report when I was fourteen. My dad hated that I even wanted to live here. What else would a good daughter do but not listen to him?”
Silent tears of remorse rolled down her cheeks. “In the end, my father just begged me to take a friend. He was just worried, I realize now. But… I want to think that it’s good I didn’t because she might have…” She swallowed, focusing on the stuff she needed to tell. “They were going to sell me,” she remembered. “To the highest bidder. A…virgin,” she added, hating that she had to give such personal information. She wanted to ask how they even knew she was a virgin while being worried what he thought of a twenty-four-year-old being one. She realized how stupid it was to care about that, now.
“Can you tell me how you got away, Ma Petite?”
She welcomed the question away from the humiliating virgin expose. “I…found something in the boat I was in…and managed to cut the rope around my ankles then wrists. I waited for a place to…escape into the water.” She opened her eyes as the terror of that moment in her escape returned. She focused on his handsome face. “I went into the water…very quietly. And I swam under water for as long as I could hold my breath. When I came up, he was far away, and I swam into the trees. I didn’t stop swimming…”
“Shhh, don’t cry, Ma Petite. You made it, yes? And I found you.”
She nodded, closing her eyes while fighting the tremble in her lips. “I was so scared he would come back and find me,” she strained around the constriction in her bruised throat. “When he didn’t, I got scared I would die out there, or get eaten by an alligator. I could hear them, I think, all around. That was my luck at that point,” she said between breaths, bringing a hand to cover her eyes while he stroked her hair. “And then you came,” she quipped before a sob gushed out. “You were just there somehow, and you saved me. You tried to save me before and I didn’t listen,” she strained out.
His shhhh’s had never been more welcome as he took her hand between his and pet it repeatedly while she cried.
“You are safe now, Ma Petite che`re.” The sudden warmth of his lips pressed on the back of her hand, clobbering the mess inside her. They were small kisses he’d likely give to a distraught child, oh God, her mind honed in on the feeling of that perfect part of him pressing so softly into her skin. Everything about this side of him was so contrary to the man she’d originally met. And the agonizing hunger it woke in her brought new pains and cravings that cut way deeper than the physical ones.
****
Sahvrin wrestled with himself and the need to take her agony and pain. Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her hand, yet it seemed right and necessary for her. He would have to ask more questions later. She’d overdone her bathroom excursion and the tea was already taking effect. He placed her small hand next to her, petting it one last time, vowing to find the people who did this then give them the most horrific death he could dream up.
A virgin. This was a surprise for her age but not at all for her personality. Such an innocent, pure spirit she had, a perfect lure to that wickedness. They couldn’t hunt these demons fast enough.
After eating, he considered his next steps. Meet his brothers and Pah-Pah or get some sleep. He’d stayed up all night as promised, watching over her, and exhaustion siphoned the strength from his muscles. He didn’t have all the answers he wanted yet. Two hours was all he needed and when she woke, they’d talk again. Then he’d meet his father and brothers later that evening when she rested again.
A moment later, the sound of a boat reached him, and he quickly got his gun and hurried out. His stomach loosened at seeing Lazure’s boat. Merci Dieu, his Mah-Mah wasted no time coming to check her.
Helping her off the boat and hugging her, he explained everything he knew so far and didn’t know as they hurried to the house. She tried to make him stay outside but he insisted on coming in to at least make sure she wasn’t scared.
It took several attempts to rouse her to half coherency. “Ma Petite,” he whispered. “My mother is here to check your injuries, okay? She will be touching you everywhere and I don’t want you to be afraid. You understand?”
“I’m…I’m not dressed,” she mumbled.
“You have clothes on,” he reminded while stroking the stress from her puckered brow.
“I mean…I don’t…I need to be dressed… better…”
Mon Dieu, she was worried about impressions with his mother. “Mah-Mah doesn’t care about such things.”
She reached and flopped her hand toward him. “But…I do…”
“Shhhh, you must not care about this. I need her to check you, can she do that?”
She finally nodded and he stood, eying his mother who stared at Beth with a distraught look, taking in her battered condition.
She turned her gaze to him and placed a hand on his arm and nodded. “You’re doing perfectly,” she whispered, somehow knowing the very thing he worried over before quietly sending him out.
He waited outside with Lazure, focusing on delivering his previous plans to him. Sounds of His Petite crying froze him, and his father stopped him from going in. “Your Mah-Mah knows what she’s doing, let her do.”
He forced himself to comply, unable to even speak as her broken wails filled every part of him until he burned with a rage he knew would never be satisfied.
****
After his Mah-Mah came out of the house, Sahvrin was beside himself with uselessness. “She is sleeping and is fine.”
“What did you find?” he asked, bracing for the worst.
“I don’t think anything is broken. Fractured yes.” She handed him a sheet of paper showing him all the injuries on a stick diagram she’d drawn. To see the extent of the damage in such a list made him sick.
“Everything you need to do for her is here. There’s clothes and medicines,” she said as he read through the list. “I wasn’t sure what to expect so I brought more than enough. It’s all in the satchel on the little table. If you need anything, call me.”
“Thank you Mah-Mah,” he said, hugging her goodbye. She held on to him tight and rubbed her hand along his back.
“You are such a good man, son,” she said. “And she is a very strong girl. She just needs time, good food and medicine, and lots of rest.” She stroked both hands along his face and the affection made his skin crawl. She wouldn’t be wearing that beaming smile if she knew his actions with her before she was abducted. Maybe she did know and wasn’t bothered. Well, he fucking was and would always be.
“Thank you again,” he said, beyond desperate to check on her himself.
She gave him a look-over and said, “Go,” as if seeing he needed to. He wasn’t trying to hide it. He didn’t think he could if he wanted to. He just knew that getting her whole again and protecting her while that happened was his job, nobody else. Not even his mother.