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“I was wearing a one-piece swimsuit and a cover-up the day he took me.”
TJ doesn’t speak, but I know he’s still there from the static on his end of the line. His clothes rustle as if he’s moving, and either the wind or his breath comes through the microphone.
“His name was Deo.” I clear my throat, unsure if I can get all of this out, already knowing I will regret it. “He told me he could tell I was a virgin by the way I walked. I remember thinking, even through my fear, that there was no way to tell if someone was a virgin that way, but then again he found me and his speculation was true.”
My tongue slips out, wetting my bottom lip.
“He said virgins were the cream of the crop. They brought the most money at the auction, so he was always excited to get one. Virgins were what he sought out, and I just happened to catch his eye on the beach that day.
“Ten thousand dollars. That’s what the guy paid to rip into me. He left me broken, bleeding, and begging for death. Before he walked out, he pressed his lips to my forehead and assured me the experience was worth every penny.”
He doesn’t speak, but his breaths are now rushing out, echoing in my ear. I inwardly wonder what his reaction would be if he knew the full truth. He shouldn’t be angry on my behalf. The effort is lost on me. I don’t deserve it.
“I was eighteen, and even though I thought I knew it all, much like most kids that age do, I realized I didn’t know anything. I was guarded, protected every day, reminded how good girls behaved because my dad had political aspirations and didn’t want me to ruin his chances. When Deo came in later, he praised me for making his customer so happy. I was certain he’d gotten what he wanted, and he was going to let me go home. I knew it in my soul that the worst was over, and even as horrible as it was, I would heal. I would move past it.
“I don’t know how long I’d been there, but Deo came to me every night. He used me, and even though he was rough, he had never raised a hand to me. He didn’t strike me the first time until I asked when I was going to be returned to my family.
“According to him, I was ungrateful for the life he had given me. He was raging on and on about pets biting the hand that feeds them. The next night Deo didn’t come, but other guys did.”
I try to clear my throat again, but the lump doesn’t dislodge. I haven’t even been able to discuss these things with the therapist my mother insisted I see when I got home. I have no clue why I’m spilling my guts to the man who threatens me with a knife and forces himself on me as well. I shake my head, clearing it of those thoughts. TJ is nothing like Deo and his band of abusers.
“I don’t know how much or if he even charged the guys that came to my room night after night.”
I hear growling coming through the line, but TJ doesn’t speak a word.
“Deo’s punishments got worse. He didn’t come to me often, but when he did, he beat me for having sex with the men he allowed into my room. The first time I told him I didn’t have a choice. I learned after he broke my wrist that night it was just better to take what I was given than disagree with him. I’d never win in a fight against him.
“Every day I’m reminded that had I only worn a two piece that day, had I looked less innocent, things would’ve been different.”
“Kaci.”
I hate the sound of my name on his lips. It’s nothing but a reminder of the way Deo used to say it when he was hurting me.
“Please,” I beg. I’m unable to explain to him. As hard as it is to give him the larger details of my time in Venezuela, there’s no way I can break it down for him.
“Don’t say my name.” It’s all I can manage.
Silence once again fills the phone.
“Now I get to choose,” I continue before all my courage dries up. “I get to choose the party, the guy. I control my life. No one understands. Not that I have anyone who even gives a fuck.”
The growling gets louder, but I ignore him. This conversation isn’t about saving his feelings or acknowledging his misplaced emotions.
“I don’t have any friends. My parents might as well not even exist. I have nothing to prove to anyone but myself. Going to those parties, deciding whether or not I tilt a cup up to my lips, it’s the only thing I have. I choose my path. Of course, the guys think they’re smarter than me. No one in their right mind would go to a party and intentionally have themselves drugged to the point of incapacity, right? Who’s crazy enough to do that? But I know who’s in control. Even drugged and unable to defend myself, I’m the one in control.”
