Page 9 of Zade (Den of Sin)

Amira barks out a bitter laugh, “Is that what you think happened?”

I turn my head and take in her haunted eyes, “Was it not?”

Again she laughs but there’s no humor, only despair, “Yes, I knew she was on drugs, Zade. Do you know how I knew?”

I don’t speak because I’m afraid to interrupt her; I want to know everything.

She glances back to the spot on the wall, focusing there, as if looking at me pains her, and then continues, “She didn’t have money for drugs. Someone paid the rent, I don’t know who. Groceries were delivered. There was nothing extra. She had only one thing of value to sell to come up with the money she had to pay for the poison that gave her the tiniest amount of happiness as short-lived as it was.”

I take her chin in my hand and gently force her gaze to mine, “What did she sell?”

She had a car so I know it wasn’t that. The house wasn’t in her name; it was in mine, otherwise, she probably would’ve sold that.

“Me,” she whispers.

I arch an eyebrow as a million scenarios play through my mind, none of them good, but choose not to react, yet.

“Explain.”

She shrugs, “I was twelve. I had no choice. At first, it was just her dealer, he would come over and I would be the payment for her drugs.”

She closes her eyes tight, “I laid there and let them touch me so she could get high.”

“You said at first?” I ask while trying to stuff down the bile rising in my throat.

She nods, “Yeah. But then she realized she could make extra money by letting her,” she makes air quotes, “friends touch me.”

The shame in her eyes is almost too much to bear. She moves her hair in front of her face as if she’s trying to hide. Her arms hang at her sides, fists clenched, there’s so much pain, anger, and I think self-loathing. But it’s her words that cut me like a knife, “I know. I disgust myself too. I’m dirty. Ugly. I don’t know why you came to get me but you shouldn’t have.”

* * *

Amira

Zade steps back from me, his expression unreadable as he walks out of my room without a word, and closes the door behind him. I never should’ve told him, I knew better. I want to hate him but I don’t. I can’t. I physically feel sick. I admitted to him that I let men touch me sexually and now he’s disgusted by me. I don’t blame him. I didn’t fight any of the men. I never said no. Every single time, I laid still as stone, with tears running down my face but I never said to stop. I’ve always felt guilty about it but now it’s worse. Will he ever be able to look at me again? Or is this it? I turn eighteen in a few weeks and then I can leave. Until then, I’ll keep my distance, give him space so he doesn’t have to look at the repulsive girl I am now. I feel sick to my stomach as I think about the things I let them do, things they made me do to them. I need a shower. Maybe this is the time I’ll finally get clean.

ChapterSix

ZADE

Fuck. I never should’ve walked away from her like that. Does she think it was because I blame her? I don’t. I fucking blame myself. I should’ve tried harder. My career shouldn’t have mattered so much that I just left. Had I not, this never would’ve happened. There is no way I would’ve allowed anyone to touch her. Fuck. The things she’s been through make my stomach sick. I sit on her bed waiting for her to come out of the shower. She’s been in there for over half an hour. Eventually, the water has to get cold forcing her out. The sound of her sobs coming louder than the water falling has me twisted up inside. I want to go in there but she’s naked and that would be inappropriate. Listening to her pain feels like someone is reaching inside my chest and twisting my heart. I glance at my watch, for forty-five minutes. I will wait another ten minutes and then I’m going in there whether she’s naked or not.

I run my hand through my hair while taking a deep breath. Ten minutes later, I get up and go into the bathroom. Grabbing a towel I approach the shower door and open it, completely disturbed by what I see. Amira is scrubbing her body raw. I don’t even notice her naked body on display. I’m fucking horrified when I see how red she has made her skin. At first, I wonder how you can scrub your skin that red until I see the bottle in her hand.

“Jesus Christ, Amira. Tell me you didn’t put bleach on your skin.”

Her eyes pop open, and the saddest green eyes focus on mine, “I have to get clean.”

I place the towel on the hook beside the shower, kick off my shoes, and without removing my suit get in with her. Grabbing the bleach I toss it out of the shower in anger, anger at her mother, the pieces of shit that did this to her, at myself. I get the body wash, squeeze a generous amount into my palm, and cleanse her flesh, trying to get rid of the bleach.

“This is dangerous, Amira.”

She turns her head, avoiding my gaze as if she’s filled with shame. It breaks my heart even further to know this is how she feels about herself. As an attorney, I’ve seen and heard horrendous things. Unfortunately, it’s not unheard of for victims to self-harm, but bleaching the body? This is new for me and I’m not sure how to handle it.

“You did nothing wrong. You are not fucking dirty. Have you done this before?”

Amira nods, “Yeah. It makes me feel better for a little while.”

I shake my head, seething but not at her, “We’re going to get you some counseling. You need to deal with what happened to you but this is not the fucking way. Do you understand?”

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