Guard Me (Broken Heroes 4)

“Please don’t put me back in that room.” I murmur into his shirt. He doesn’t respond or stops walking in the direction I just came from. He just continues walking as if he didn’t hear me at all and with every step he takes I lose a little more hope that I’m ever going get out of here.

Chapter Two

Ivan

Her blue eyes pierced through my heart like a dull butterknife. I’m so fucking angry right now…more than angry actually and I don’t understand the emotions I’m feeling.

I carry her small body back into the cell. With her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt, she is holding on to me as if her life depends upon it. I glance down at her but her face is buried into my chest. She is crying, sobbing, her whole body shaking with the force of her tears, and I can’t get her stupid pleas out of my head. She’s stupid, so stupid. Without knowing who I am she begs me to help her like I’m some kind of fucking hero… she has no fucking idea how wrong she is. I’m just as bad as those assholes that bruised up her face and tried to have their way with her.

Still hearing the desperation in her voice, and seeing how scared she is while feeling her cling to me like I’m the only one that can save her. It gives me an ounce of hope, shows me that maybe there is some good left inside of me, when I though all of it has been snuffed out a long time ago. I saved her, protected her and that does something to me even I don’t want to acknowledge it.

Typically I don’t deal with this part of the business. Mainly because I don’t like how they treat the women. It doesn’t get me off to see women sexually abused, or beat, so I try to ignore this part of the job, and leave my men to deal with this shit. I knew she was here, of course, I’d gotten her file thrown on my desk the second she was brought in to be processed, but I’d never seen her in besides the small picture of her drivers licence, not until now. Most of the women that were here never saw me, the man who made sure the entire operation went as smoothly as possible.

I carry her back into cell five, the only cell with the door open. My molars grinding together when I see the ripped dress discarded the floor. I quickly scan the room getting even angrier when I see there isn’t even a blanket or sheet on the dirty mattress. I almost don’t want to put her back on it, but what else am I going to fucking do with her? I didn’t realize the women lived in such shitty condition, but I suppose offering them anything gives them false hope. Most of the men these women will be sold to will end up dead or worse. So, something as superficial as a blanket or pillow won’t matter anyway.

I kneel down next to the mattress ready to lay her down on it when her shaking intensifies.

“Please, don’t leave me here, please.” Her words cut through me like a knife.

“I can’t help you,” I tell her with a stern voice, but I can’t bring myself to peel her from my body, or put her down on the mattress. Something about…it clings to me.

“Can you stay with me… just for a little while?” I don’t dare look down at her… and I really shouldn’t. I should put her down and walk out of that door without ever looking back but the way she clings to me has awakened a protective instinct inside me.

An instinct I thought I’d lost long ago, one I shoved down so deep inside me that it would never see the light of day again… But I guess I was wrong. I hadn’t lost the feeling to care I just hadn’t had a reason too.

I sit down on the mattress, resting my back against the cold wall, well continuing to hold her in my arms. With her almost naked body curled up, she cuddles into me as if she couldn’t get close enough.

“I’m so cold,” she whimpers. I tighten my arms around her and rub my hands up and down her cold skin trying to get her warmed up. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I need to find her something to wear and get her a blanket. There’s no way I can leave her in here naked like this. I sit there for a long time just holding her, attempting to warm her fragile body while she sobs into my chest. I don’t say anything to her. Mostly because there is nothing to say. There is nothing I can offer her that would change the outcome of her future. This is my job…to sell women…and she was brought here, plucked off the street. She might not have asked to be brought here, but she’s here now and I can’t just let her go.