Page 53 of Shame

“She’s gone missing.”

“He killed her! I’ll fucking—”

She puts a hand on my arm. “No, she came back. She took her things. It’s all gone. She’s left.”

Relief floods my chest. At least she’s alive, and she’s done the only clever thing she could do. Now I just need to find her.

“Where is she? Did she tell anyone?”

She shakes her head. “Love, I’ve been interrogating the girls all morning. No one knows anything. She was up and had tea early with Gabriela, but after that no one knows.”

“Did you call the cops?”

She looks at me, deadpanned. My cheeks heat up and I feel like the stupid amateur I still am. Of course not.

“Does S— Do they know?”

The matron shakes her head again. “I don’t think it’s something we need to run around telling people. What do you think?”

I sag and fall onto one of the couches, rubbing my hands over my face. I jerk when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Go home. There’s nothing for you here.”

“Will— Will you please let me know…?”

“Of course.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Lucas

Days pass. Then weeks. In the beginning I visit the house every other day. After a few weeks of nothing I begin to call them instead. Their voices sound increasingly pitying.

“No, honey. We haven’t heard from her.” The matron is ever-so-patient with me, but I feel that I’m stretching it thin.

“Are you sure? Is anyone looking for her? Did you try to find her family?”

“No one knows where she came from, Lucas. We found her on the street. She never said much about her background. You probably know more than any of us. Are you looking?”

“All the fucking time,” I mutter and hang up. I wonder if someone’s taken her bright, lavender scented room for their own. Does someone else live there now? I wonder where the Tolkien books are, and if someone else is reading them now.

I wonder if she’s safe. If she’s happy.

I increase my workload, take on more brutal missions, beatings, executions, anything to rid myself for a few hours of the gnawing hole in my chest. Carmen’s disappearance is a knife that keeps stabbing my heart. Krav Maga helps me focus, or I’d turn to booze, or the drugs we deal.

“Mate! Easy. For fuck’s sake, I’m fond of my face!”

Rodriguez has jumped back. Doubled over, he’s supporting his hands on his thighs as he pants, glaring at me from under sweaty, black tresses of hair.

I pull up my shirt and wipe off my face with it, leaving it soaked with sweat as I drop it. “Sorry, Rod.”

“You’ve become fucking dangerous, you know that?”

“I’m working out almost every day, of course I’m getting stronger.” I jump up and down to keep warm, and throw some punches at the punching bag, then spin and round kick it.

“I’m not talking about that, Payne. Yeah, you’re getting huge, and fast, but man, you’re not focused.”

I stop and turn to him. My insides clenching with the sudden pain. He doesn’t know. The only people who know about Carmen and me are the prostitutes, and the matron. And Salvatore. I get the odd look from Ivan occasionally, so maybe he knows too.

---