Page 15 of Shame
The door squeaks. Did I see her eyes glossing over?
It doesn’t take many moments before she returns with another set of footsteps. “Miranda will sit with you. I’ve got some painkillers, love, and some water.” A straw appears before my eyes, and a hand with two white, oval pills. I part my lips, drink some water and obediently swallow the bitter medicine after she puts it on my tongue, wincing as it passes my bruised throat. “The doctor will be here in twenty.”
I flinch. “What? No… no doctor,” I rasp.
The matron sighs. “Sleep, if you can, Carmen. We’ll take care of you.”
No one mentions Salvatore. No one mentions that no other girl, so far, has come back as beaten as I am. My eyes meet Miranda’s. She looks aghast, her eyes wide and dark.
“What happened there?” she mouths.
“Don’t disturb her,” snaps the matron.
She quickly averts her gaze. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper and reach for her. She grabs my hand, careful not to squeeze. Our eyes fall on my flayed wrist, crusted, dried blood circling it. I pull my hand back and cover it under the blanket again. Tears well up in Miranda’s eyes. Mine are dry. I’m all cried out.
The room is quiet. Peaceful. I try to not feel, not to reach inside, not to touch my soul with the filth that is me.
The ache slowly subsides from an ever-present cloak of fire, to a heavy blanket of a dull strain. Occasionally I float, and I can almost reach oblivion, but then I move a little, or breathe too deep and am immediately pulled back to my bed, to the room in the whore house, to the reality in which I am damaged beyond repair.
Miranda doesn’t speak, and she has a hard time meeting my eyes. I know what she thinks. She’s lucky it isn’t her. She’s afraid she’ll be next. I could probably comfort her. I can’t claim to know Salvatore, but judging from which girls he usually picks, I don’t think the blonde, plus sized, twenty-eight-year-old before me is his type. I hope she never curses her curves. I hope she loves them.
The door opens and closes. Two sets of steps. Two people. I’m lying in the same position as when Lucas put me down; my back to the entrance, so I can’t see who they are, but I wanna bet Matron and the doctor.
“Miranda, thank you. You can leave. Go get yourself some coffee. I will call for you later again.”
Miranda gives me a look filled with pity, and then disappears as if she had the Devil on her tail.
The doctor comes into my sight. I know him well. A man in his sixties, a little round around the waist, a thick mane of hair he dyes a dark brown. He must have looked good in his youth, but his features are aged by troubles and not by a happy life. I bet he has seen shit no one should ever see. He works for Salvatore. He has patched up many wounds. He gives us girls the gyno exam, and tests us regularly for diseases. Condoms are the rule. Some men don’t give a shit, though, and they’re never welcomed back. Salvatore fucked me bareback. He knew I was clean. I don’t know if he is. I push it away. One worry at a time.
“Carmen. I have been told the state you’re in. I have some questions that are very important you answer truthfully.” He fiddles with something out of my sight, glances down, and then back up at me.
I nod.
“Was any object other than a penis inserted into you?”
I shake my head.
“Have you been given any drugs?”
I frown and try to think back, then I shake my head.
“Were you beaten?”
I nod.
“Did your head take any hits? Are you experiencing an unnatural need to sleep? Headache? Dizziness?”
Well, both yes and no, but no, I wasn’t hit in the head so I shake it again.
He smiles briefly. “Did you receive any blows to your stomach?”
“Not from the outside,” I whisper, my voice a mere rasp.
He frowns before it dawns on him, an uncomfortable look ghosting past his features. “Okay, Carmen. I’m going to give you something for the pain. It will make it all go away.” He inserts a needle in my upper arm and injects a clear fluid. Almost immediately, my mind begins to spin. As from a distance, I hear him speak. “I’m not gonna lie, there might be some hallucinations.”
Lucas
