ASYA'S POV
The door on the opposite wall is huge and made of the darkest wood I've ever seen. An hour must have passed since I woke up. I can't be sure, though. There's a clock on the wall, ticking, but it doesn't help because I can't see the details of the face or hands. Based on the sliver of light visible between the drapes, it must be midday.
I desperately need to pee, but I'm afraid to move from my spot in this bed. The last thing I remember is following the yellow hallway lines after I ran out of Mr. Miller's room and finding the door with the exit sign. I don't have a clue where I am. I don't know how I got here. And I have no idea what they are going to do with me. My body is shaking. The pain between my legs is still there but not as strong, and my head hurts as if it's going to explode. Other than that, I feel fine. Physically, at least. Mentally? Mentally, I feel fine, too. In fact, I feel great.
That can't be good.
The door opens and someone walks in, then stops abruptly. It's a man, that much I can discern even from this distance. He's tall and very muscular, wearing a black T-shirt and baggy black pants. His hair is either dark blond or light brown. That summarizes everything I can make out. I had a week left until my scheduled second eye surgery, but then . . . everything happened. The doctor said he expected to correct my near-sightedness almost entirely.
The man just stands there, and I wonder how long he plans on just staring at me.
"Good morning," he says finally, and a pleasant shiver passes down my body. I've never in my life met a man with a voice so deep. "How are you feeling?"
I squint my eyes, trying to see him better, but he's still just a blurred shape.
The man takes a tentative step forward. "Can you tell me your name?"
I can, but I don't feel like talking right now. I don't know why. I just don't. Another step. He's in the middle of the room now.
"Your family is probably worried about you. Can you give me their number to call them? So, they can come to take you home?"
Yes, my brother and sister are probably going out of their minds. I've been missing for two months. Arturo must be feeling crazy with no information on me. He's been both a father and a mother to me and my sister since we were five. And Sienna, oh my God, I can't even think about it. I need to call them to let them know I'm okay.
Nausea claws its way into my throat. I don't want to call Arturo, because I'll have to tell him what happened. What I did. I don't want my family to know that their sister is a prostitute and an addict. They'll probably tell me everything will be okay. My body starts shaking. It's not going to be okay. Nothing will ever be okay again.
"What's wrong?" the man asks and takes another step toward me.
They probably think I'm dead. Good. It's better that way. I'm not worth their worry. I'd never be able to look them in the eyes. The sister they knew doesn't exist anymore. She's gone. And in her place is this disgusting, filthy creature who lets people violate her and sell her body while she does nothing to stop it. Nothing! My teeth chatter and I can't breathe.
"Please, tell me what's wrong."
His voice is so calming. I should be scared shitless, having an unknown man here, considering what I've gone through. I'm not. The thing is, I had so many nasty things done to me that there is nothing he can do to hurt me. I'm more scared of Arturo and Sienna finding out than being violated again.
I try breathing deeper but can't. I can only manage small gasps.
A hand enters my field of vision and I flinch, expecting him to hit me.
Instead, the man takes the blanket that has fallen off my shoulders and wraps it around me. His palm rests on my back and slowly moves up and down. He did the same thing last night. I remember waking up and being freezing cold when a hand started comforting my back. It made me feel safe, something I thought I would never feel again. I did last night.
My eyes focus on the blanket wrapped around me because I can't look at him right now, but I can finally fill my lungs. I close my eyes, and a faint melody plays somewhere deep inside my mind. The notes are soft, barely recognizable, but still, my heart skips a beat. I thought I had lost my music.
As the hand on my back continues its path, up then down and up again, the music gets a little louder. Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata." Deep. Soothing. Just like his voice.
"I'm going to get you some water," the man says, and his hand vanishes off my back as he moves away.
I scream.