Seen.
My stomach knotted as I realized… “Scarlett, did you ever sit in a chair before?” I gently asked.
With her head against Angelo’s chest, she closed her eyes tightly. I would come to learn this was her way of trying to remember something. When her eyes finally reopened, they were full of sadness. Her head tilted as if she hoped I could fathom her hurt. “Swing. I sat in a swing.” Her head leaned back as her eyes drifted shut, her expression softening while getting lost in a fine memory. “That was when I used to see the sun.”
Angelo and I were men who had taken lives, brutally so, but these two tough men were fighting emotions as if we barely knew how to kill at all. This woman was speaking of a child’s swing set and the last time she had been outside during the day. I knew she had been out at night when older. In that picture, she was surrounded by darkness and the men owning that night.
When we had rushed Scarlett from her captor’s home, she had been blinded by the sun. Panicked and in pain, she had kept trying to open her eyes to see where we were taking her, but the brightness forced them shut. Luckily, Angelo was already holding her, and she was able to hide her hurting eyes underneath his chin.
In the living room, forcing down a swallow, I gestured, explaining, “Well, this chair is like the swing. It just doesn’t move. It is safe for you.”
“I’m not supposed to touch anything.”
Fighting back anger for every rule those vile men taught her, I assured her, “You are here. With us. Allowed to touch anything you want. I promise.”
“Promise?” Her eyes showed pure confusion.
Deep inhale… “A promise is a vow, words that guarantee the truth.”
Scarlett looked to Angelo, who gave a faint smile, nodding his head. She gazed back down to the chair… then loosened her hold on Angelo.
As Angelo sat her in the chair, I told him, “With all she has been through, I am surprised how much she lets you touch her.”
He stayed by Scarlett’s side, watching her as if she needed every bit of his attention. “Isabella told me she doted on her. Held her almost every moment. Unless with the fathers, of course.”
The fathers. I had to hold back a primal growl. That is what they had Scarlett call them.
Disgusting inbreeders—
I stopped when noticing Scarlett watching our mouths. Not concerned with being completely naked, she pointed to Angelo. “The prayer. In my room.”
In the basement, when Angelo had spoken in Italian, she asked what he had said. I didn’t realize it had sounded like a prayer to her. Wait. “Did your mother pray?”
Scarlett suddenly leaned forward, her joined hands rising to her mouth to make the shh sign. She whispered, “Don’t let the fathers hear.”
Angelo snarled, “They are not here.”
She leaned back, eyes wide again.
My best friend, the brute, had scared our little injured bird. “Angelo, go find any medical supplies we have, a large bowl of warm water, and a towel.” Due to our dangerous line of work, we always had some sort of medical emergency kit in a vehicle or in a suitcase at our hotel.
Angelo had wanted the rope off her for hours now. I was more than happy to oblige.
My heart ached for Scarlett as she watched him leave, suddenly apprehensive. I assured her, “He’ll be right back.”
“Promise?” she asked.
Our little injured bird was a fast learner.
I smiled, “Promise,” then held up my undershirt.
Her joined hands reached out to touch it. “Wow,” she whispered. “A shirt.”
You would have thought I just offered her a personal invitation to Heaven with the way she gazed at the item I wore, to avoid sweating up my silk shirts.
Swallow… I will never take my clothing for granted again. “Would you like to wear it?”
Her eyes widened, then quickly darted around the room before leaning forward to whisper again. “I am not to wear any.”
With one hand, I gently took hold of hers. “Since,” I couldn’t stomach what those men were to her but forced myself to say, “your fathers aren’t with you anymore, maybe you can start. We can keep it simple for now. Deal?”
“Deal?”
“An agreement.”
After she nodded, I went to put the shirt on her, completely forgetting it was impossible until her hands were separated. God, your wisdom is needed. Please guide me.
Keeping Angelo from growling was becoming quite the task. As gently as I could, I soaked Scarlett’s wrists, trying to soften her skin. I knew a doctor should have been the one trying to separate the rope from her wrists, but bringing one to the house would cause too many questions. According to her nonexistent paper trail, there should be no Scarlett Giordano. The last thing we needed were authorities breathing down our necks.
In a chair next to her, Angelo hissed at the sight.
Sadly, Scarlett had a high tolerance for pain. With my undershirt laid over her lap, she barely winced as I slowly pulled the rope, slightly tearing her tender skin.
I asked her, “How long have you been tied like this?”
“I do not know.”
“Do you know how old you are?”
She looked to Angelo, then shook her head at me.
Still working on her wrists, I tried to smile. “According to your mother, we think you are about twenty-five or twenty-six years old.”
“Wow,” she said in awe. “I still cannot believe she was not sold.”
Scarlett spoke as if she had learned her English from someone who spoke it as if it was their second language. Yes, her mother was this person, but Scarlett had been in the States for so many years, it was surprising to hear her say, cannot, instead of can’t. These little details were important because it helped Angelo and I understand how much communication Scarlett had with other people after her mother was taken.
Such as the word sold. She said it as if not even sure what it meant.
I told her, “She misses you so much.”
Scarlett watched my work in the bowl. “They did not tell me what happened to her. I cried for a long time. I was so little.” She sighed. “Seth used to be little, too.” I internally jolted at the mention of the child demon. “Now, he is so big. I did not know he was getting so tall.” Her fingers wiggled in the water in a playful or nervous manner. “Can I have him with me? They would not let me have him.”
Angelo quietly told her, “It is important that we focus on you first.”
Scarlett didn’t speak for a few minutes, but finally said, “I wish I knew how old he is.”
Shiver. I told her, “He, uh, looked to be about twelve.” Angelo paled, so I asked, “What is it?”
He held his stomach. “That means she delivered him by thirteen or fourteen. Could have been pregnant by twelve.”
“Are you praying again?”
We both looked to Scarlett.
Almost everything we did, even the tiniest of things, was going to be a learning experience for Scarlett. It was remarkable how much she didn’t know.
“No,” I explained, “Angelo and I are speaking a different language. It is called Italian. It is the language we speak in Italy. Our home country.”
Her expression showed a fascination for all I had to say. “Were you saved from your home, too?”