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“SO YOU’RE THE thief, huh?”
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
I tried to obey my frantic commands, but my eyes had a mind of their own. Trading dirty concrete, I followed the baby blue shoes to navy slacks to cream chequered shirt with the Ralph Lauren polo pony logo on the breast pocket.
My gaze stopped there.
It didn’t want to study the pretty rich white boy with sandy blond hair and a matching goatee. It didn’t want to have yet another pain-deliverer staring in my nightmares once this was all over.
But I couldn’t stop myself from cataloguing him, just as I’d catalogued so many others.
I noted his languid pose—relaxed and eager to begin.
I registered his sneer—stuck-up and confident.
I tabulated his manicured appearance—endless money and ego.
It seemed wealth had the power to rot certain people into unscrupulous citizens.
He hummed with boredom and malice. He grinned with self-righteousness and resentment. He was the younger version of Alrik.
A sob dug talons into my throat, making me choke. I lowered my head again, allowing brown tangled hair to screen me as I remained bowed on my knees on the painful dirt beneath.
“Don’t want to admit your guilt, huh?” He chuckled, glancing at the three women surrounding him. His black-haired girlfriend, Miranda, smirked. “She begged for us to let her go but hasn’t said a word since.”
The quiet friend stood off to the side with her lips thinned and arms crossed as if she could deny what was happening. Her mousy brown hair was natural whereas her friends were bottled and bleached. Her face only had lip gloss and mascara instead of stain and rouge and her eyes...they were kind.
And terribly apologetic.
I ripped my attention from her as Harold stepped toward me. My heart started whirring while at the same time slammed to a stop. The conundrum of muscle turning supersonic as well as playing dead made me rub my chest where it lay.
“Ready for your lesson?” He cocked his head.
The nice girl shot forward, wringing her hands. “Look, this has gone on long enough. We’ve kept her in this alley for over half an hour. She’s been nothing but apologetic. I fully believe this was a first offense, and I doubt she’ll do it again.”
My eyes swooped to the kind reluctance of the girl fighting my battles for me even when I’d been at fault. She gave me a nervous smile, warming to her crusade. Moving toward her friend, she said, “Let her go, Miranda. We have better things to do than—”
“Better things than reminding this thief not to take what isn’t hers?” Miranda hissed. “I’m not going to be taken advantage of, Simone. No one takes what is mine.” She moved forward and stroked her boyfriend’s arm, looping her fingers with his. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
Her boyfriend, Alrik’s younger doppelganger, nodded importantly. “That’s right. Just ‘cause we look like easy, rich pickings for the likes of her doesn’t mean we have to put up with being robbed.”
“But we weren’t robbed—” Simone sighed impatiently. “We got back what was ours, minus Callie who’s already cancelled her credit cards while we were waiting for you. Please, Harold, let’s just go. Monique? Callie?” She glanced at her other friends who watched the battle play out.
Amazingly, Callie returned Simone’s smile. “I’m okay to go. Like you say, I have my cash, and my cards are cancelled. The bank is couriering new ones to me as we speak. I’m okay to call bygones, bygones.”
“Great!” Simone clapped her hands, backing toward the sunshine of the busy street where rich and middle class mingled in relaxing holiday vibes. “Let’s go swimming before the Versace party tonight.”
“Not so fast.” Miranda held up her finger. “I might consider forgetting this....”
“You will! Great.” Simone beamed. “That’s so nice of you, Miranda.”
“If,” Miranda continued. “That little thief stands in front of me and apologises.”
I flinched as she directed her wrath at me. “Stand up, come here, tell me you’re sorry and you’ll never do it again, and I might consider telling Harold not to teach you a lesson.”
I didn’t move.
I didn’t take her up on her offer as I was an expert in these games.
Her friends didn’t know.
But I did.
Alrik toyed with me far too much for me to forget the sound of an empty invitation. He’d promise me clothes—dangling them in front of me, waiting for me to trust that this time, this time, he would finally let me touch and claim them.
Only for him to beat me stupid when I did.
He’d offer me fresh food, allowing the fragrances to make me drool after starving me for two days, coaxing me to hope that maybe, maybe, this was the time he showed mercy.
Only to dump the contents into a toilet when I reached out.
Miranda had the same cat-like meanness in her eyes.
The one that said...come here...I want to torment you, little mouse.
That nickname shot my thoughts to Elder where I suffered yet more agony.
Poor Simone with her heart as warm as the sunshine outside our dark alley brushed past Miranda with her hand outstretched to me. “Come on. You heard what she said. You’re free to go if you just say sorry. And I know you’re sorry. You’re white as a ghost.” She squatted in front of me, offering her hand, being so damn kind even after I’d inconvenienced her holiday by robbing them so callously. “I don’t know why you stole, but if you don’t have any money for food or if you’re lost or alone, I’ll gladly give you funds for whatever you need.”
Oh, my God.
No one had given me such a beautiful offer before. Even Elder’s generosity had come with a payment plan.
This girl...
A tear of utmost gratitude escaped my iron clad control. Unlike Miranda and her games, Simone was genuine in her proposition.
My voice shrugged off its self-imposed muteness. “You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”
She blushed self-consciously. “No, I’m not. Believe me. I just...there’s something about you. Come on. Say you’re sorry and then we can leave. I’ll go with you if you’d like. Oh, I know...you can come back to my hotel for lunch. My daddy will make sure you’re taken care of.”
I glanced behind her at Miranda and Harold who stood snickering, watching this show as a pre-dinner snack before the main course of my pain.
I wanted to speak to Simone for as long as I was able. I would tell her anything. I would fib and lie and spin about a happier life if it meant I could avoid the impending fists and kicks.
I would even go as far as telling her the truth and accepting any charity she gave me so I could return home and never have to steal again. I would somehow get a job and repay her magnanimity then start working on stitching up the holes in my soul from leaving Elder.
“You can speak to me...” Simone coaxed. “I won’t bite. I meant what I said. If you need money or help, I’ll gladly give it to you.”
My shoulders rolled as a flush of thankfulness filled me. Even if I suffered a beating today, I had another guardian angel willing to help me. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve it, but if all it cost were a few bruises, then I would pay it proudly.
Sitting taller, I clasped my hands in my lap and looked over her head at Miranda. If she was half as kind as Simone, I would do as she asked and apologise—for the second time.
But she wasn’t.
And nothing I said would help me.
“I’m truly sorry.” I forced my voice to be calm and collected. “And I want to make this right. But I could stand in front of you. I could bow before you. I could kiss your hands and apologise for days, but it wouldn’t make a shred of difference.”
Simone stiffened, a small gasp falling from her lips. “What are you doing?”
Something I should’ve done years ago.
Standing up for myself.
I was done being taunted with. There was nothing I could do to avoid what would happen, but I could say something that would hopefully haunt them when they were older and wiser and less cocky and cruel. “Want to know why it won’t make a difference?” I bared my teeth. “It’s because I’ve known people like you. I’ve lived with people like you. I was sold to people like you. Every day, I was played with, and every day, I learned to fall less and less for his tricks. Unlike you, I never hurt another person until yesterday when I walked away from the one man I’ve ever loved. So perhaps this is punishment for hurting him, and I’ll accept it because what I did was wrong. I take full responsibility for that and for stealing. But I also know that even if I could somehow convince you of how sincere I am...I’m still going to end up bleeding.”
I tensed and glowered at Miranda. “So tell your little lap dog there to do his worst. He won’t break me. No one can break me even though plenty have tried.”
Silence fell in the alley.
Tears filled Simone’s eyes. “Oh, wow. You were sold?” She reached for my hands, but I flinched backward out of habit. She stilled, dropping her head. “I’m so sorry.”
I couldn’t stomach her understanding even after I’d wronged her. I opened my mouth to assure her I wasn’t after her sympathy. I just had to stand up for myself for the first time in my life, but the cackle of disbelief from Miranda and Harold rang in my ears so familiar.
I was used to such a response.
I was used to being ridiculed and abused.
“Seriously, Simone!” Miranda giggled. “You believe that shit? What a little liar.”
Simone lashed out and grabbed my hand. With a burst of surprising strength, she pulled me unwillingly to my aching feet. My ankles screamed from being sat on for so long, my knees indented and red from dirty gravel.
Tugging me toward her evil friend, she clutched my fingers tight. “I do believe her, and I’m going to help her. I’m taking her to see my daddy right now. He’ll know what to do.”
I stumbled from shock at how such a wondrous creature could be friends with such a monster as Miranda. Was she just naïve to the wily ways of maliciousness, or did she think she could change Miranda by drowning her in goodness?
Either way, I was at both their mercies as Simone brought me to stand in front of her friend. “I’m leaving with her.” Looking at me, Simone ordered, “Say you’re sorry, and then we can be done with this.”
I lowered my eyes to the baby blue loafers of Harold and the sparkly silver sandals of Miranda. It physically pained me to talk to such beasts, but I did it for Simone, not them.
If she believed they’d stop, then perhaps I would trust her judgement over mine. I might be clouded from past experiences. I would take that first step into normalcy and treat each occurrence as separate not joined.
I tilted my chin and spoke with a bravery I didn’t own. “I’m sorry for taking what wasn’t mine. Rest assured, I’ll never—”
Miranda’s palm connected with a short sharp, slap on my cheek. “You’re right, you’ll never steal again ‘cause you’re going to remember this lesson for a lifetime, bitch!”
Heat instantly bloomed, dousing me in quick-fire pain.
I stumbled backward.
Simone cried out.
I shut down.
Pain...my old friend.
I focused on it, welcomed it. I knew it. I was it. I knew nothing else because of it.
“Miranda, wait!” Simone’s voice sounded as if she was underwater as her fingers were ripped from mine and I was shoved heinously against the wall.
“Ready to enjoy that lesson?” Harold’s face appeared, slamming my skull into the brick behind me, his breath a sour mix of alcohol and seafood.
I looked over his shoulder to a crying, begging Simone; a laughing, pleased Miranda; and the other two girls who looked petrified at how suddenly this had escalated.
They all gasped as Harold’s fist connected with my belly.
Not me.
I doubled over silently.
Not one gasp.
Not one grunt.
Mute.
Like I’d always been.
Simone screamed, Miranda cheered, and the blonde girl spun around and charged out of the alley.
I couldn’t blame her. Being beaten was an awful task to endure. Watching it be done with no power to stop it might even be worse.
Simone should run, too. This would scar her for life. It would ruin her goodness. It would change her too much.
Go.
After all, unlike my previous broken bones and ill healed injuries, I did deserve this. No one had told me to steal their wallets; I’d done that all on my own.
Harold’s fist connected once again with my stomach. This time to the side where my appendix lived. I buckled in his hold, slithering down the wall where his leg cocked back, and his foot buried itself in my ribcage.
The pain wasn’t really describable.
I’d lived with it for so long; it was like trying to describe how I breathed or pumped blood through my veins. It was a part of me and happened without conscious thought.
I huddled up, protecting my head and drawing my legs up, locking everything else out.
I no longer heard Simone screaming. I didn’t listen to Miranda’s goading or Harold’s stream of ‘Take that, bitch. Does that feel good?’
It was silent inside and out.
My thoughts drifted to Elder. Where was he right now? Had he kept my letter? Had I hurt him all over again by telling him how I felt only to run because I didn’t want to be the one to break him further?
Another kick, this one winding me until my lips parted like an ocean creature turfed from the sea.
Time lost all meaning.
Another fist landed on top of my arms as they cradled my head. My spine scraped against the wall as Harold kicked me hard enough to send me scooting forward from the blow.
Knuckles kissed my cheek, sending instant pressure into a very familiar black eye.
I wondered briefly how long he would abuse me and how ruthless he would become the more he warmed to his task.
Another strike, this time somewhere on my leg. The agony-blossom seeped instantly into my bones; a tuning fork settling fire to old injuries like a door knock to a new friend.
I didn’t try to get up.
I hadn’t learned how to run while being beaten.
All my instincts said to shut up, lock down, curl tight.
Another kick.
A gob of spit on my arm.
And then a new noise. Something that didn’t belong.
“Stop!” the shout vaguely rippled its way into my consciousness.
“Hey!” another shout, male and authoritative.
My heart reached out with eager arms. Imaginings of Elder arriving at the perfect time. My villainous knight with his dragon ink. Had he come? Did I dare let hope surface?
I tensed for another punishment, but the looming figure of Harold suddenly vanished. Removing his oppressive shadow left me with open skies. I dared peer up through the forest of legs.
Two things slammed into me.
One, gratefulness that someone had come to my rescue.
Two, utter wretchedness that it wasn’t Elder.
Miranda screeched as two men grabbed her boyfriend.
Harold cursed and swung, doing his best to get free.
But the two saviours never let go, quickly grabbing Harold’s flailing arms and wrenching them behind his back. Their uniforms filled my vision with legal domination, a gold shield stitched on the sleeve, and an array of weapons, badges, and tools.
In my painful haze, I witnessed them slap handcuffs on Harold and stand squarely in resplendent livery. “Anything you do and say can be used against you. I would calm down, buddy, before you do something you regret.” Their French accents were thick and commanding.
Harold spat at one of them. He missed. “Fuck you.”
Before the cop could retaliate, Simone wrung her hands. “Thank goodness you’re here!” She danced out of the way as the two cops nodded curtly and manhandled a very uncooperative Harold forward.
Harold kicked out, connecting with an officer’s knee. “Unhand me, you son of a bitch!”
Not showing any sign of being injured, the older cop with greying hair growled. “Refusing a direct order will result in nasty consequences, sir. Kick me again, and you’re in trouble.” Shoving Harold against the same wall I’d been beaten against, he added, “Stand up. As I said, you’re under arrest.”
“Bullshit, I am!” Harold fought harder against the cuffs. “Don’t you know who I am? Who my father is? You’ve just lost your jobs, you cunt.”
“No need for profanity, sir,” the younger cop muttered. He stepped back a little, eyeing his trussed-up prisoner. “You’re the one who committed the crime of assaulting this young woman, not us.”
“Why you fucking—” Harold’s face twisted with such fury, I blanched. His mask of acrimony granted a flashback to the white mansion and Alrik slicing my tongue.
I closed my eyes, doing my best to dispel such terrible memories. When I opened them again, I noticed Callie—the blonde girl who’d run off—lurking behind the cops. She waved at Simone for her to join her.
Simone obeyed, moving toward her and smiling in thanks. However, her eyes never left mine as she said to the cops, “We need to help this poor girl. She said she was sold. That she was tormented. My family will pay if she needs to see a doctor or anything like that.”
Once again, my chest swelled with gratitude.
I flinched as a cop came toward me, ducking down on his haunches. “That true, miss?”
I didn’t answer.
After a few seconds of frowning at my silence, he looked back at Simone. “Don’t worry. We’ll take it from here and provide excellent care for her.”
Ice cubes settled in my belly.
What does that mean?
“What do you mean?” Simone asked on my behalf. “I want to help.”
Ignoring Simone, the younger cop with kind hazel eyes and a mop of brown hair stood from his crouch and captured my elbow.
My skin crawled beneath his touch, but I forced myself to focus on his uniform and the goodness on his face and find some element of trust to help him brace my bruised weight to stand.
“Come along, miss. We’ll have someone look at you and listen to what you have to say.”
I grimaced as my muscles pounded from Harold’s kicks and my kneecaps seized. My ribs hurt, my eye had swollen, and my cheek still burned from Miranda’s slap. Even though the cop said the right things, it was the things he didn’t say that churned my blood into rancid butter.
There was something else. Something he hadn’t said yet.
“What the fuck?” Miranda planted her hands on her hips, reminding me that her conquest to make me suffer hadn’t been fulfilled. “She robbed us. She deserves to go to jail, not treated like some fragile flower.” Stomping her foot, she demanded, “Let my boyfriend go. He was only teaching this stupid thief a lesson. This is all her fault.”
The older cop narrowed his eyes, using the words of his colleague but in an entirely different tone. “Is that true? Did you steal from these girls?”
I waited for Miranda to condemn me, but strangely, it was the blonde this time. Now that there was no threat of bloodshed, she returned to her prissy ways. “We caught her red-handed stealing purses from our bags.”
The young cop’s hold on my elbow tightened, becoming more shackle than support. “Time to speak, miss. Tell us the truth.”
I bowed my head. My voice became a frightened passenger, slipping down my throat to hide.
Simone answered for me. “Can’t you see she has issues? What if she was stealing ‘cause she has nothing? Maybe she just escaped from the men who bought her and needs our help instead of our judgment?”
“Ugh, what a crock of shit!” Miranda threw her hands up. “She’s lying to you, Simone. There is no way anything she said is true.”
I didn’t open my mouth to defend myself. There was no point.
Harold stood taller, seeing yet another opportunity to make me pay, even if it wasn’t by his fists. He became a chameleon—shedding his fierce brutality, replacing it with concerned chivalry. “I was just protecting my woman, officer. That girl is a thief and a liar. She put my girlfriend in danger. She robbed them. If anyone deserves to be arrested, it’s her.”
The young cop pulled me away from the wall, disgust replacing his compassion. “Speak now if you want to deny those accusations, miss. Otherwise, you’re coming with us.”
I shrivelled.
Rusty blood tainted my tongue.
My mind swam from being struck in the head.
I wanted to deny it so much. I wanted to lie, but I’d already committed one crime. I wouldn’t add another to that tally.
Simone darted forward, taking my other elbow. I didn’t owe this girl a thing, yet she continued to fight for me. Under normal circumstances, I would thank her profusely and beg to be her friend. I’d never met a girl like her—not in my past and not since Elder found me.
It would be so nice to have a female friend. Someone who would listen and sympathise what I’d lived through. I could talk to her about Elder and ask her opinion. She could tell me if I did the right thing by leaving, or if I’d been ridiculously stupid to walk away from the man who’d not only rescued me but given me back the will to live.
You did it for him.
I kept forgetting that part. I kept forgetting the agony I nursed was to protect him not me.
My silence irritated the officers.
Their patience ran out.
“Right, seeing as one of you is sprouting nonsense and another refuses to say a word, I guess we’ll have to bring both of you in.” The older policeman yanked Harold toward the busy road where rubberneckers tried to ease their rampant curiosity. “Let’s go.”
The young cop dragged me forward. “You, too.”
I went willingly, offering no refusal. A few stumbles and limps but I didn’t fight. Not that I could with the new aches and pains Harold had granted me.
Simone cried, “Wait, where are you taking her?”
“To be processed and questioned.” The young cop dragged me forward. At some point in my beating, I’d lost a shoe, and I winced as pebbles bruised my sole.
The older cop placed a pair of aviator sunglasses on as he left the alley and entered the sunny street. Pedestrians changed their direction and speed as we disrupted foot traffic, cutting in front of nosy tourists all eyeing me and Harold in the grip of law enforcers.
A small sedan with the police logo sat skewed on the curb as if Simone’s friend had hailed them down as they were driving down the road.
The blonde had done me a favour and stopped the beating, but now she’d taken away the chance of possibly being loaned some money and being free to find my way home.
I looked over my shoulder at Simone who stood with her arms crossed and worry on her innocent face. She waved hesitantly as I was marched away.
Would she come see me in jail? Would her father let her? Or would she forget about the poor little prisoner who tried to rob her the moment I climbed into that squad car?
Either way, it didn’t matter as my head turned and my eyes kissed the beautiful ocean no longer hidden behind buildings.
The horizon glittered with sunshine glory, but I wasn’t interested in the prettiness of this place. I didn’t care about the schooners and spinnakers and sunbakers.
I cared about one thing.
One thing that I searched frantically for even as I tried to look away.
I shouldn’t look.
I should forget—
Too late.
I couldn’t stop my tattered moan as I found the spot where the Phantom had moored, floating just out of harbour congestion, a beacon for home.
Only, there was no yacht.
There was no home.
Only an empty turquoise spot like a lost tooth in a jaw of bejewelled vessels.
Elder had read my letter and agreed with me.
He’d boarded the Phantom, taken one last look at Monaco, and left.
Something fissured inside me.
Something akin to a blade filleting my heart from my ribcage. Short, intense, blistering in its viciousness.
I keeled over as the young cop stuffed me into the back of their vehicle.
I fought my tears, straining to keep my eyes on the horizon, begging for it to be a mistake. That I’d been looking in the wrong spot. That the Phantom was still there, and by some miracle, Elder had ignored my need to leave and was this very moment searching for me.
Please...
But as the door slammed shut and the sounds of city life and traffic were muted, I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.
This hurt more than any fist.
Worse than any kick.
This was the worst agony I’d ever endured.
The agony of a broken heart.
The pain of a sailed away lover.