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As she gently tended to me, removing my bandage to clean and replace it, and sang about how this world could be if fellow humans acted in a kind way, I realized she was right. If all followed her lead, giving and accepting, we could see a very special day. One, maybe deep down, we all hoped for. Even the biker who had killed six men a mere twenty-four hours ago.
Now always within my reach, Elle’s body may have finally been free of Lorenzo, but he held tight to memories I couldn’t reach. Nor could I protect her from them. I learned this when terror ripped through the night. Her screams had men beating on our door. It was chaos. I was trying to yell over her wails, “Nightmare,” while trying to contain Elle who was so lost, she couldn’t break free from a hold I couldn’t see.
In the bed, I tried to touch her, “Babe,” but that only sent her deeper into a panicked frenzy. As she jerked back, shielding herself with raised hands, she fell out of the bed.
“Elle!” I hollered, trying to get out of bed and rush to her but labored with tearing stitches.
Bam! Vice busted the door open with his shoulder.
Holding my gut, I limped around the bed. “She’s on the fucking floor!”
Vice and Pops rushed past me to see her now scrambling backward and taking cover in a corner. All the while screaming, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Her eyes were open but weren’t seeing any of her Stallions.
Her pretty face drenched in sweat and contorted in fear, I fell to my knees. “Babe, please—”
She screamed, “I won’t! I won’t! I swear!”
From somewhere behind me, I heard, “Go get Sweets.”
Pops grabbed Vice’s shoulder as he tried to approach Elle. “No, son. She’s gotta calm down first.”
Dagger was on a knee next to me, pressing a towel to my stomach. “Lynx, you’re bleeding again.”
I didn’t give two fucks about my body while Elle believed hers was trapped elsewhere. Like her, my mental state snapped. I roared to the ceiling, “I will fucking kill him!”
Little pitter-patter of bare feet came running into the room. Sweets’ little voice instructed, “Every man go quiet and lower your body. Your deep voices can trigger our memories. Your looming size makes us feel trapped again.”
I was surprised to see Brass joining us in a crouch. He whispered, “Trust her. It takes one to know one.”
Immediately, Pops and Vice took a knee.
Like a breeze, she swiftly maneuvered around all our wide shoulders and crouched forms. “Hi, Elle. Would you like a sip of water?”
Shit was spiraling out of control, yet this petite thing was offering water? I was doubting Brass’ smarts until Elle’s screams began to lighten to mews.
Gently, Sweets explained to anyone listening, “Water is a source rarely offered to trafficked victims,” while studying Elle. “We treasure it when we get the chance.” Squatted in long sleeves and pajama pants with little ducks on them, she softly said, “Isn’t that right, Precious?”
I couldn’t help but suspect pajamas were another rarity for sex slaves. The men in these two girls’ lives wanted them undressed. They only wanted to be covered and warm.
Elle was now crying. Sniffling, she asked, “Is the water allowed?”
I cringed in horror, thinking I’d never take water for granted again, but Sweets happily answered, “Sure! I’ll bring it to you. We won’t get caught. Okay?”
Pops and Vice looked to the floor as if witnessing Elle this way was painful.
Elle sounded so sad when she agreed. “Okay.” She whispered as if scared to be heard, “I am thirsty.”
“Me too.” Sweets was such a gentle soul. Her voice, her actions, she was simply a gem. “We can share. And I have more.”
Elle cried, “Thank you,” seeming overwhelmed with gratitude.
Sweets sat next to her and held the water to Elle’s mouth. “Here you go. It’s very refreshing.”
Elle took a sip as if she hadn’t had water in days. Her throat gulped and gulped.
Sweets wiped Elle’s chin while asking, “Where are we?”
Pops’ head popped up.
