Page 279 of Unexpected Hero

More of my autonomy taken.

Not that the idea of carrying one of these monster’s babies appeals to me. But still.

Dread threatens to surge, but I quash it down.

It’s haunting me that I haven’t been able to scrub myself clean. What I wouldn’t give for a shower, a Brillo pad, and a bottle of Ajax cleaner.

I opt to take my precious few moments of rest in the room without windows. It makes me a bit claustrophobic to be in there. But I think I saw Vanessa go into the other room.

When I enter the bedroom, three of the girls are already passed out from exhaustion. Lucky are they who sleep. As long as they don’t dream.

The fourth girl hands me a ratty T-shirt.“Here. Cover up.”

Apparently, I’ve never heard her speak until now. Her accent is thick and familiar. Russian.

My gut twists, and a chill runs up my spine.

I despise how this entire fucking horrific experience has made me instantly distrust her because of nothing other than her accent.

I don’t want to be naked anymore, so I take the offered clothing. “Thanks,” I answer, barely making a sound.

The shirt should be long enough to cover my privates.

Not that they’re private anymore.

A silly memory distracts my sadness, almost bringing a grin to my battered face. Stella and I overheard her mother on the phone once. She recalled how humiliating the birthing experience was because she felt like the entire hospital saw all the way to her soul via her lady bits.

It’s like that in this house. Except at the end of the day, there’s no beautiful angel baby to cancel your mortification.

Only sadness, disgust, and, of course, shame.

The Russian girl sits on the floor in the corner with her back to the wall and her long, bruised legs crossed in front of her chest. She’s in a bra and ripped shorts.

I take a similar position beside her and tug the shirt on over myself, grateful for the slightest protection and comfort it provides. “Was this your shirt?”

She nods, somehow infusing sadness and compassion into the common gesture. “I have bottoms and a bra. Seems fair you have something too.”

My earlier fear of her because of her accent begins to wane.We sit in silence for a while. My head rests against the wall as my haggard breaths begin to lull me to sleep.

Suddenly, I jerk awake when the sensation of falling makes my whole-body tense. The movement causes more of that unbearable rib pain to lance through me, making me hiss through my teeth.

“You okay?” she asks.

“I think I have a broken rib,” I answer, one hand cupping my side. “But we’re supposed to be quiet.”

“They don’t hear. Only say that to scare us.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m here for nine weeks.” Her tone isn’t loud, but it’s not quiet either. So she must have some measure of confidence that they’re not listening to us. “And Savin tell me it is okay to talk to other girls when no one looking.”

“Who is that?”

She stares at the wall, her chin wobbling as she fights back tears. “My boyfriend. He forced to bring me here. But he visit me.”

“You knew him before you came here?”

She nods.

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