Page 31 of Captive Heart

"You didn't know me or owe me anything, but you did it anyway!" she bawled in a decidedly unladylike fashion, trailing soggy tears all over him.

"And now, there are clothes!" she announced, as if that explained it all, before realising it didn't. "Clothes that are just for me," she clarified, lifting her head and wiping her nose on the back of her hand.

Taking a breath, Melody tried to pull herself together and explain. "I’ve never had new clothes before. Proper clothes that weren't for someone else's benefit. I just got a bit overwhelmed at the thought. I know it's stupid, but it's been an emotional kind of day. I'm sorry."

She bit her lip as she looked at him through her wet, spiky eyelashes.

Micah lifted his hands, bringing them gently to her face and brushing away her tears with his thumbs. Then he leaned over and grabbed a tissue from a box on the table and encouraged her to blow her nose.

Tears welled in Melody's eyes all over again. It had only been a single day, but already, she wanted to stay here forever, with Micah, in this shiny little bubble of both physical warmth and human kindness.

"I know you haven't seen the best side of humanity, Melody, but there are people in the world who do care enough to help those who are in need. Now, let's have a look at these cuts and see which ones need to be treated before you try out some of those clothes, eh?"

He plucked the towel from around her, and although he had already seen her naked, several times, up close and personal, and despite the fact that she’d spent the past few years kept in naked subservience, Melody couldn't help the unexpected bite of embarrassment that washed over her.

She didn't want him to see all the cuts and bruises that marred her skinny, malnourished frame. She didn’t want him to see her many flaws.

For Micah, she had an aching desire to be whole and beautiful so that he might want to keep her.

The tears escaped again as he applied salve and dressings to the whip marks and the burn sores on her body, but this time, they were for a different reason.

This time they were because she didn’t think she would ever be good enough for a man such as Micah. And for the first time in her life, she wanted to be.

22

There was a new man today. Micah had introduced him as Detective Storer. Melody didn't know quite what she had expected, but the man in front of her certainly wasn't it!

He had rolled into the room in a fancy, futuristic looking wheelchair. A larger-than-life character despite being a dwarf, and he sported a brightly dyed goatee beard.

Micah had shaken his hand and called him Andy, and it was clear from their relaxed camaraderie that they knew each other well.

Detective Andy Storer poked and prodded at her memories, from her parents, to her foster families, to the group home, to Daddy. She was a little uncomfortable with some of the questions he asked about the five years she had spent with him, but that was nothing compared with the shame and anxiety she felt while talking about the brute.

Again and again, he asked if she could recall a name or an address. If she could remember details of any of the men who had come to the house. How they had treated her. If they were aware of the nature of her incarceration. Whether any of them had tried to help her.

Melody became frustrated with all the things she didn't know.

She could describe them all. They were burned into her memory.

Tall, thin, brown hair, brown eyes.

Short, bald, grey eyes and glasses.

Fat, squinty eyes and slobbery lips.

But then, she could just as well be describing any number of men.

Melody sighed and closed her eyes, rubbing her head against the throb that was starting to push against her temple as she allowed her mind to wander into territories she preferred not to explore. Horrific memories she could only keep at bay if she locked them away and didn't inspect them too carefully.

"There was one time…"

Her voice came out in a strangled choke, just thinking of the scene, the sheer terror.

"He strung me up with a noose around my neck and put me on a chair."

Melody rubbed at her throat as if she could still feel the scratch and pull of the coarse fibres pressing into her windpipe.

"I could just about withstand the tightening of the loop if I stood right on my tippy toes.”

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