"Luther has a doctor that comes to the house to treat me. I asked the doctor to help me once. He hung around at the house while Luther had another go at me just so he could treat me again." She sighed with defeat. I pulled a large band aid out of its sterile package.
"How long have you been with Luther?" I asked as I placed it over the now clean cut.
"Maybe about a year, I'm not sure. I was locked up a lot after I was taken and could barely tell what day it was." This caught my attention.
"After you were taken?" I enquired. She nodded and wrapped her arms around herself tightly like reliving the memory was painful.
"I went to a bar with some friends. I was in College you know, studying to be a teacher.” A small smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, the longer she was silent, the more it grew. It was infectious and soon I realised I was smiling with her. “I really like kids, I like teaching them new things and helping them learn. It’s just so cool to watch someone develop like that…” Her voice got more excited and then trailed off. Her smile slipped away so fast it was almost like it was never there.
“After a couple of drinks I wasn't feeling so well so I decided to head home. A couple of my friends offered to walk with me, but we lived in a good area, it was all student housing.” She cleared her throat and I knew she was fighting back tears. When she spoke again her voice was completely void of any emotion, the excitement I heard before was a dim memory, a small snippet of the past her.
She shrugged. “Next thing I knew I was locked in a room, given food, told if I behaved I'd be let out." She shook her head. "Luther let me out but claimed I belonged to him. I tried to fight back to begin with, but the beatings were bad. Broken ribs, concussions, he even sliced open my leg once because I told him I wanted to go home."
I gripped the counter, scared if I let go I might collapse. Who does that to a young girl?
"You're trainer doesn't do that to you?" She asked, her head tilted curiously.
"My trainer?"
"Charlie? I've heard Luther call them trainers. We've had a few other girls come to the house with men."
My head was starting to feel dizzy. Trainers? Was Charlie my trainer? And what were they training us for? The kitchen doors burst open and Luther ploughed through them, followed closely by Charlie.
Luther grabbed Isla by the arm and all but dragged her out the opposite door and towards the foyer. Isla threw me a quick glance but quickly restored her go to position. Head down, do what you're told. I was frozen on the spot, Charlie's eyes glaring at me across the room.
"Clean up this mess," he indicated towards the medical kit. "I want you in my room in 10 minutes." His voice was firm and commanding and not to be opposed.
He left as swiftly as he entered and I swallowed hard, pain was to come.
-----------------
I stared at the face in the mirror, reaching up to touch the angry red mark covering my cheekbone and under my eye. I cringed, it was still fresh and tender and I knew soon it would start to bruise.
Charlie was usually pretty smart about where and when he hit me. I was often spared the bruises that covered my face, neck and wrists, but Charlie’s anger had prevailed over his consciousness, and he had gone all out this time. I heard the bedroom door open and stilled.
"Cover it with makeup; I don't want to look at it." He said harshly, staring at me from the doorway.
"You mean you don't want other people to see it." I muttered, turning towards him. He took three quick strides across the room and grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my head back roughly so I was looking up into his dangerous eyes. They sparkled with a deep evil glare and I shuddered. His other hand came to my throat and he squeezed as he pushed my back up against the mirror. I tried to breathe in, but as I did he tightened his grip, cutting off any air from getting in.
"Don't push me child," he growled deeply.
Learning to Kill: Stories