Silence and Shadows

Chapter 1

The old man's heavy breathing filled the little, damp room as he rolled off me, and I lay still. He got up, fumbling with his trousers in the low light while the bed groaned. Counting the seconds till he left, I stared at a water stain on the ceiling. On countless evenings like this one, I had committed to memory every flaw in that stained plaster.

"You're a cold one, aren't you?" As he fastened his belt, he mumbled. I didn't blink or say anything. After a moment, he shuffled towards the door.

The door clicked shut behind him. It was only then that I allowed myself to shake a little and exhaled deeply. I can't afford to lose it right now or here. There will be more customers tonight.

I rose mechanically, wiping myself clean with a rag and straightening my tattered dress. My fingers traced the bruises on my arms, fresh marks laid over old ones. Even though I winced, I ignored the discomfort. Like the raging hunger in my stomach or the steady chill that crept into my bones, it was just another feeling to ignore.

I walked up to the broken mirror leaning against the wall to inspect the damage. My face was unmarked this time, at least. Small mercies. I hardly recognized the dead-eyed woman who peered back at me from the mirror.

I reapplied the gaudy lipstick and slapped some cheap rouge on my cheeks. I gave myself permission to daydream while I worked, picturing a life that was different from this pit of misery But such dreams were dangerous. Hope was a luxury I couldn't afford.

A shout from downstairs made me flinch. Rose's voice, shrill and angry. "Get your ass down here, girl! Customers are waiting!"

I inhaled deeply, bracing myself. The night had not yet ended. I forced a blank smile and made my way to the door, getting farther with each step.

As I went down the flimsy stairs, they creaked under my weight. I was struck first by the bar's smoky cloud, then by the smell of stale smoke and cheap spirits. I felt sick, but I forced myself to swallow it.

Rose's beady eyes found me immediately. "About damn time," she snarled, grabbing my arm and yanking me towards a table in the corner. "This gentleman's been waiting. Don't disappoint him, or it'll be trouble."

She pushed me forward, causing me to slip a little before catching myself and wiggling my hips as I got closer to the table. I was unable to talk to her, even though I wanted to. Before I eventually got the courage to speak to anyone, I spent months crying, screaming, and pleading. I was mute. My vocal cords were spoiled. I could open it, but it would not produce any sound.

The "gentleman" at issue was a balding man in his fifties who was portly and shiny in the low light. I approached him, and his eyes swept over me with hunger.

"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing," he slurred, patting his lap invitingly.

I forced a coy smile and perched on his knee, my skin crawling at his touch. I was drawn closer as his huge hand slithered around my waist. I felt sick to my stomach from the whisky odour on his breath.

With a small slur in his voice, he said, "What's your name, sweetheart?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Panic fluttered in my chest. Rose would beat me if I couldn't please this customer. I gestured helplessly at my throat, trying to convey my muteness.

The man's brow furrowed in confusion, then cleared. "Ah, can't speak, eh? That's alright, darling. You don't need to talk about what I have in mind."

He chuckled at his own crude joke, his hand sliding up my thigh. I forced myself to lean into his touch, playing my part. His fingers dug into my flesh, possessive and demanding. I could already tell he would be rough.

"Let's get a room, shall we?" As his lips touched my ear, he whispered. I got up politely from his lap and nodded. He swayed a little as he followed me to the stairs and staggered to his feet.

I could feel his lustful, inebriated gaze on me as we ascended. My thoughts were racing as I tried to get ready for what was about to happen. Would he use violence? Particularly the inebriated ones, some of them were. I ran my hand over the faded scar on my collarbone, which reminded me of a customer who had overused his belt.

I escorted him to my room once we arrived at the landing. I opened the door, and the musty scent we knew filled the room. Without any delay, he pushed me inside and shut the door after us. As soon as he backed me towards the bed, his hands were on me, pawing and groping. I tripped and landed on the flimsy mattress.

He loomed over me, fumbling with his belt buckle. "You're going to give me my money's worth, girl," he growled.

I closed my eyes, retreating into the dark corners of my mind as his weight pressed down on me. I'd learned to disconnect, to float away somewhere else while my body endured. But tonight, something was different. A spark of anger flickered in my chest, growing with each rough thrust.

Images flashed through my mind - Rose's sneering face, the old man's heavy breathing, countless faceless customers using me night after night. The anger built, a pressure cooker of rage and despair threatening to explode.

Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. He was all over me, and not in a good way. Like a million tiny insects crawling all over my body. I was going to ignore it and force the feeling down my throat like I had always done. But this was different. The anger, rage and sudden bout of power building up inside me was different

Without thinking, I brought up my knee to his nether region and gave it a hard kick "What the fu—" he shouted.

Before he could finish his sentence, I pushed him off me. The next few moments were a blur. I couldn't recall anything clearly except for a blinding flash of red. I opened my eyes to see the man slumped against the wall, his eyes wide with rage and terror. Blood trickled from a gash on his forehead.

Rose burst into the room; her face flushed with fury. "What the hell is going on here?" she demanded, her gaze flicking between me and the injured man.

"This crazy b***h attacked me," he gasped, clutching his head. "She's f*****g insane."

"You better have a good explanation for this, and I mean a very good explanation." Rose snapped, turning to me. I gestured helplessly, trying to communicate what had happened. I shook my head, frustrated. How could I make her understand?

"She can't even speak," the man scoffed, staggering to his feet. "Probably some retard. You should keep her locked up before she hurts someone." I flinched, his words hitting too close to home. I'm not crazy. I'm not.

Within minutes, my wrists were bound behind me as they dragged me through the hallways. I struggled silently, my body thrashing, but they held me tight, dragging me down the hall. My feet scraped against the stone as they took me to him.