13. Josephine
Josephine
As I approach the elevator, the woman inside finally comes into view. Immediately my chest tightens.
Because when she locks eyes with me, I know.
As a girl who dealt with a monster, one who did unimaginable things to her, I know the look on her face. I know because it’s the same one that looked back at me in the mirror for years.
She’s plastered herself against the side of the elevator, arms tightly wrapped around her center, each hand fisting the corners of the blanket she has wrapped around her shoulders. Tears stream down her pale face as her chin quivers with each broken sob.
She has wavy bright-red hair, but not the obnoxious kind of red.
The kind that most girls dream of having.
The kind that looks like it’s the color of a perfect fall day.
The kind that no matter how hard you try, you could never recreate in a salon.
And even through the tears, I can tell from here she has the most beautiful hazel eyes.
She looks to be about five-foot-three on a good day, and maybe a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet.
This poor girl would have a hard time fending off one man, let alone the three that were chasing her.
Once I get to the threshold of the elevator I stop. And despite the overwhelming sadness I suddenly feel, I smile. “I’m Josephine, but my friends call me Joe.”
“I-I’m”—a broken sob slips past her lips—“I’m Anya.”
“Hi, Anya.” Slowly, I reach out my hand in her direction, and when she flinches it takes every ounce of my being to not want to go back to that fucking house right this minute.
“Do you want to come with me? I have some clothes you can wear, and we can get you cleaned up.” Her breathing picks up pace and I can feel my eyes start to water.
“Anya, you’re safe here. We won’t let anything happen to you.
You don’t ever have to go back there again.
” Despite how much I want to, I don’t move another muscle. “Let us help you.”
I watch as her eyes look me over, stopping when they reach the scar on my thigh sticking out from beneath my pajama shorts. Her stare meets mine again, silently asking if I’m like her. And while our scars aren’t quite the same, scars are scars.
A small tear manages to fall and roll down my cheek as I give her one quick nod.
Anya lets out a relieved sob as she finally grabs my hand.
I tightly thread my fingers in between hers and gently pull her from the elevator.
As we walk through the penthouse and toward the stairs her steps falter slightly when she notices the guys on the couch.
None of the guys get up or move toward her, and instead simply smile and wave in her direction.
“The one that looks like an Italian Clark Kent is Luca, and the Ken doll is Sebastian.”
“You live with all of them?” she asks while we take our time walking up the stairs.
“Sure do.”
“Are you with one of them?”
It dawns on me that this is the first time I’ve had to explain this to someone. And I decide right here and now to fully lean into it. “All of them actually.”
Anya stops dead in her tracks. “A—all of them?”
It’s hard not to want to laugh at her shocked expression. But at least it’s not a terrified one. “Yeah, all of them.”
I can practically see the wheels spinning in her head before she smiles. “Good for you.”
This time, I do laugh softly. “Well thank you. Now come on, let’s get you settled.”
Sebastian got his room ready before they got her, so I head down the hall toward his open door. “I don’t have a room here, but you can stay in Sebastian’s room until we get this sorted.”
“I don’t want to put anybody out. Really, it’s—”
“Nonsense. You’re not putting anyone out, Anya. Plus he can just stay in Luca’s room in the meantime.” She looks up at me puzzled and I just smile. “I’ll explain it to you in the morning.”
Leading her into Seb’s room, I stop once we reach the bed and point to the piles of clothes on it.
“I didn’t know what you’d feel comfortable in so I just grabbed a few different things.
Use whatever you’d like. There’s some of my clothes and some of the guys T-shirts and sweatpants if you’d rather wear those.
But judging by your size those might be a little too big. ”
“Just a little.” There’s that smile again. “Thank you, Joe.”
“Of course.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze.
“There’s fresh towels, toothbrush and toothpaste, a brush, some deodorant, lotion, and just about anything else you can think of in the bathroom for you.
Please use whatever you want.” Anya eyes the tub in the corner of the bathroom like it has the possibility to be her own personal heaven.
“There’s some bath salts and bubble bath beneath the sink,” I whisper.
“Is there anyone you want us to call for you?”
“No,” she answers quickly. “Please don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
“Okay. Not a word. One more thing and then I promise I’ll let you get some rest.” Her tired eyes blink slowly and she nods. “Do you need to see a doctor? For any reason?”
Anya inhales slowly and closes her eyes. As if she were assessing her entire being for the first time since she got here. A moment later, she opens her eyes and answers, “No. I’m okay.”
“Alright. You let me know if you change your mind, okay?” She nods. “The rest of us are going to go to sleep, but we will be downstairs when you get up in the morning. If you need anything to drink or eat, you help yourself to the kitchen.”
“Okay.” The more relaxed she becomes around me, the more apparent her exhaustion becomes.
“I’ll be in the room just across the hall if you need me.” I gently swipe my hand down the side of her face before returning to the door.
“Joe.” Stopping, I look back at Anya. “I’ve wanted to be free of them for so long.”
I smile at her reassuringly. “I know. And now you are. You did it, Anya.” She nods rapidly as more tears start streaming down her cheek. “Get some sleep.”
Leaving Anya to herself, I make my way back downstairs. Finding the guys still sitting on the couch, I curl up next to Enzo in his usual spot in the corner of the sectional. He kisses the crown of my head as I rest it on his shoulder.
“How is she?” Luca asks.
“Terrified. Traumatized. It’s clear they were abusing her. I just don’t know the full extent of it. I didn’t want to push her by asking her too many questions. She just needs rest for now.”
“Thank you for helping her, Sweetheart.”
I look up at Enzo. “Thank you for saving her.” I trace my finger along one of the tattoos on his neck. “You wanna have a sleepover tonight?”
Enzo’s eyes light up with glee, like a kid on Christmas morning. “Fuck yeah, I do.”
In one fell swoop, he gets us both up off the couch, throws me over his shoulder, and takes off in a near sprint up the stairs.
“Hey!” Luca calls. “Don’t we have some shit to figure out?”
“Talk amongst yourselves and fill us in in the morning,” Enzo calls back, not bothering to stop for one second. And I don’t try to get him to either. “We have important sleepover business to attend to.” He smacks the globe of my ass as we enter his room. “Don’t we, Sweetheart?”
I giggle as Enzo throws me onto his bed. Looking up at him, I bite my lip and answer, “Fuck yeah, we do.”