Chapter 4 Amberly
AMBERLY
I dabbed the warm washcloth against her cuts, cleaning the caked blood off her face.
I ran the cool washcloths over the bruises and swelling she had against her skin, too.
I tried my best to soothe her as we sat on the floor.
The only light source we had was a flickering, faded, shadeless lamp sitting on the bedside table between the two double beds in the room.
It was barely useful for casting shadows.
But once my eyes adjusted, I saw better in the dark than I did in the light.
That painful understanding reminded me of just how long I’d been with these guys.
Just how long I’d been under their spell.
Working as their slave while they held my son hostage.
If my son was even still alive.
Keep it together, Amberly. You have to stay strong for the new girl.
“So, what’s your name?” I asked.
“Sutton,” she said softly.
I nodded my head slowly as I got up, needing to soak the washcloths again. I ran them under the necessary temperatures, thankful that this place at least had running hot water. The other two places I’d been in didn’t. Which made showers before my customers absolutely excruciating.
Especially if those customers left marks of any sort. Because seizing muscles and trembling bodies didn’t make for a soothing environment for wounds.
“Who are you?” Sutton asked.
I shrugged as I wrung out the washcloths softly.
“No one important,” I murmured.
“Do you know where we are?” she asked.
“A rundown motel somewhere in California, I believe.”
“A motel? Who owns it? What’s its name?”
I shrugged. “I guess whoever’s doing this to us. And I don't know the name. I just know this is both home and work.”
“Work? What… what work?”
“You really should rest that lip. The more talking you do, the more swollen it’ll become.”
And the more unattractive it’ll be to your paying customers.
I took the washcloths back and sat down in front of her.
I gripped her chin softly, continuing to dab at her lip that wouldn't stop fucking bleeding. I didn’t have the heart to tell her what I was doing here.
Or what I meant by “work.” Because part of me was petrified that once I told her—once she figured out what she might be in for—she’d scream and claw her way out and they’d shoot her dead.
And, selfishly enough, I hadn’t had a roommate like this before. Not in the—two, three, four—uh, six years I’d been working for these guys.
The company was nice.
Sutton kept staring at me. Analyzing me.
Raking her eyes over me as I tried cleaning her up.
I took her hands and led her to the bathroom, then told her to strip down as much as she was comfortable.
A girl I had been thrown into a bedroom with did this exact same thing to me.
She washed me down. Cleaned my wounds. Took care of my bruises.
Then, in the blink of an eye, she was gone.
Killed, sold, or owned. Or whatever it was that was bound to happen with me once my vagina wore out too much from my line of work.
I was shocked when she obeyed. She put up very little fight about it, actually.
Which had me worried as to what she’d already been through to get to this point.
To get tossed into Satan’s lair with me.
I ran a bath of hot water, treating her to a steaming, relaxing bath.
Especially since I didn’t know where we’d be tomorrow.
Or if we’d have running water at our new place.
“Get in, and I’ll give you a few minutes to soak. Think. Generally, take everything in. Then, I’ll come in and wash your hair. Sound good?” I asked.
Sutton sighed. “Why are you doing this?”
“Consider it common courtesy around here. It was done to me by the first person I met. She had it done to her by the first person she met. Just take it all in and appreciate it. Because things don’t always get this good around here.”
I knew I was being harsh with her, but it was the only way I knew to be now.
Harsh was what kept me alive. Harsh was what kept me emotionally removed.
Harsh was what kept me from fearing the worst about my son.
In the hands of Vlad. For three fucking years while I rotted away, unable to see anything but pictures and videos of my kiddo. My little man.
My sweet, sweet boy.
The locks on the door were thrown and I rushed out.
I closed the bathroom door, afraid that a customer was being thrown my way while Sutton was in the bath.
I catapulted myself onto my assigned bed, fixing my hair and positioning myself on my knees.
The way Vlad enjoyed it the most from the women he employed in his disgusting sex trade.
“Got food for you,” the man grunted.
I sighed with relief as I scrambled off the bed, rushing to catch the bags of food.
He dropped them from his hands before shoving two large drinks against my chest. I tried steadying everything at once, but eventually dropped the food bags in favor of the drinks.
Something other than the dirty tap water coming out of the sink faucet sounded like heaven.
And apparently, the man liked watching me struggle.
He chuckled as he closed the door, then the locks were thrown again.
I waited until they were all locked before I made a move.
“Everything okay?” Sutton asked.
“Yep. Just got dinner. But don’t worry. We’ve got a microwave to heat it up in that works, I think,” I said.
“What’s for dinner?”
I squinted to read the name on the bag before I set the drinks down, too.
“The place is called, ‘Del Mario’s,’” I said.
“Wait, really?” Sutton asked.
I sat down on the covered toilet, reaching for the cheap dollar store shampoo and conditioner I was afforded by these guys.
“Mhm. Why?” I asked.
“We’re still in Redding,” she whispered.
“What was that?”
“Redding. Redding, California. That’s where we are. But why didn’t he take me out of the city?”
“You’re not making any sense.”
And before I knew it, the locks were thrown again as the door ripped open.
“Hey! Sutton!” the man exclaimed.
“What!?” Sutton snapped back.
“Your father’ll be with you soon. So, I suggest you clean yourself up. You know how he hates dirty things,” the man said, chuckling.
She shivered underneath my hands as I furrowed my brow. The hotel room door slammed shut, and I counted every single lock thrown. And once it came to five, I quirked an eyebrow at the girl underneath my soapy hands in the tub.
“Who’s your father?” I asked softly.
She sighed. “Lars Norden.”
It felt like the rug had been ripped out from underneath my feet.
“Wait. Wait, you—the—Bossman, Lars Norden?” I asked.
She nodded slowly, and all hope drained from my system.
I felt myself wobbling as my hands fell away from her hair, leaning against the back of the toilet.
Holy shit, if the man who controlled this entire operation was doing this shit to his own daughter, then what the hell had that man done to my son?
What was he currently doing to my son if Mason was even still alive?
“Oh, my gosh,” I whispered.
“Please, don’t hate me. I don’t know what’s happening. I mean, I do know. But I don’t at the same time. All I know is that my father—”
Her voice faded away as tears rushed my eyes.
My mind pulled me back into my memories again, and I saw Mason lying in my arms as we swung on a porch swing.
Vlad had many of them on the wraparound porch of his massive home back in Louisiana.
At the time, I was in love with that man.
He found me on the street. Took pity on me and showered me with affection.
When we found out I was pregnant, he told me he’d stand by my side.
Take care of me. Give me the entire world, so long as I listened to what he said.
And I was more than willing to do it. I went from scrounging around on the streets to making love with a handsome Russian musclehead as a nightly sport.
He fed me all the best foods. Treated me to all the nicest gala events.
And the more my body grew and changed with my pregnancy, the more he worshipped me.
The more he touched me. The more he cherished me.
I leaned heavily against the toilet, remembering the last time things were good between me and Vlad.
I held my three-month old Mason in my arms as I pushed off the porch with my feet, swinging us together as the summer breeze wrapped around us.
I couldn't remember where we’d gone with Vlad at that point.
Where we were or what state—or country—we were in.
All I remember was gazing down into my sweet boy’s icy blue eyes and smiling.
Because he had gotten his eyes from his father.
You are my Mason. My only Mason. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, Mason, how much I love you.
“Please don’t take my Mason away,” I whispered.
“What was that?” Sutton asked.
Her voice ripped me from my trance and I quickly wiped at my tears.
I shoved my hands back into her hair, massaging her scalp as she bent over for me to massage her neck.
I shampooed her hair. I ran conditioner through it.
She had thick, gorgeous hair. Hair I once had, before I was thrown into sexual servitude for these people.
My hair had fallen out over the years. Probably due to my diet, or lack thereof.
And along with the weight I’d lost, I probably looked sickly.
Not healthy with a tanned glow like this gorgeous girl did.
I washed the conditioner out of her hair and finished washing her down. Then, I handed her a towel as she stood up.
“Dinner’s ready whenever you want it,” I said softly.
And after she wrapped herself up, I excused myself from the bathroom.
Giving her the privacy she needed to shed those tears I’d seen in her eyes for the entire bath.