Reid’s drunk today. Broken glass and empty bottles of expensive liquor litter the floor of his bedroom. The scent of alcohol is thick in the air. The last time he was this drunk was two years ago, when I was sixteen. All he did that night was hurt me. I wasn’t even a living being to him.

I’m scared.

“Get over here, boy,” he slurs.

I don’t move. I can’t move. I’m staring down at the broken glass all around me, my body, plagued by uncontrollable shaking, is rooted to the floor.

My vision is already blurring at the edges threatening to steal my consciousness from me. My mind racing, growing fuzzy. It’s tempting. Whenever I get like this I don’t typically remember what happened after I come out of it.

“I said get over here!” He bellows, a wine glass flies straight at me and I dodge at the last second. The sound of glass shattering behind me makes me gasp, my shoulders shooting up in a harsh flinch.

Reid has another one ready to throw at me if I don’t start moving. So, I do. I shakily rush toward him.

As soon as I’m close enough he grabs my shoulder and pushes me down to me knees, getting a firm grip of my hair.

“Suck it, whore.” He presses himself against my lips which are tightly closed.

Sam

I try to move my head away but his hold on my hair keeps me in place.

Let me.

When I make no move to do what he says, he shoves me abruptly, my back and head hitting the tiled floor with a loud thud that knocks the wind out of me and leaves me feeling dizzy.

I lose control of myself and fall back into my mind.

I feel my hands reach for him, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll do it. Let me do it please!” I hear myself beg.

Reid takes a hold of my outstretched hands as he crawls on top of me. He holds my wrists above my head in a firm grip. His other hand snaking around my neck.

“No-“ I try to gasp out as he starts to squeeze and I squirm under him, kicking and bucking and trying to get him off of me. His eyes hold nothing but anger and hatred and I’m afraid he’s actually going to kill me this time.

He finally lets me go when my body had grown weak and lost it’s fight. I gasp and cough but he doesn’t give me time to catch my breathe as the hand that was just choking me, tears my costume off.

He releases my wrists, which had already gone limp, and uses his hands to spread my legs.

“No.” My voice comes out as nothing but a whisper.

And the world goes black.

He’s gone when I wake up on his bedroom floor with my memory feeling foggy.

So much pain. I’m in so much pain that I don’t think I ever stopped crying even when I had blacked out.

But I need to get out of here.

I sit up slowly, my head pounding and my eyes are struggling to focus on anything but I can make out the smeared blood on my thighs and the tile floor and I cry harder.

My sobs make my chest hurt and look down to see multiple bruises on my torso.

What did I ever do to deserve any of this? I lost my parents when I was eight. My innocence when I was thirteen along with the rest of my childhood. Now look at me. Still being used.

I struggle to stand up on my wobbly legs. My costume is ruined and unwearable. So, I’m forced to wear one of Reid’s shirts which go down to about mid-thigh which is good enough for me. I refuse to wear anymore of this man’s clothing.

I can’t do this anymore.

Not just mentally but physically I’m exhausted no matter how much I sleep. I don’t remember when I ate last. What’s even the point anymore? Even if I do pay off my debt and become free, what’s next? I’ll still be broken. Dirty. Unclean.

No one has ever actually loved me. Wanted me for something more than my voice or my body. Now on top of that I’ve been used countless times.

Isn’t it enough already?

Aren’t I enough?

This time, Reid kept me all day. It’s almost one in the morning by the time I grab my duffel bag, clutching it to my chest.

It’s slow and painful but I finally make it out. Fresh air flooding my lungs as I head in the direction of the beach. I won’t swim. The ocean doesn’t deserve to have more filth in it. I just want to be near the water, I don’t want to go back to that lonely apartment just yet.

As soon as I feel my bare feet sink into the sand, I feel at home. The wind brushes through my long hair as I get closer to the water. My knees eventually give out and I collapse onto the sand just outside the waves’ reach.

Breathing in the salty air calms me a bit but I still feel…numb as I stare off into the distance, unseeing. I squeeze the compass around my neck, the ridged edges pressing painfully into my palm as I breathe.

I found myself wishing I had the capability to drown.

I look down at the compass in my hand, the red arrow shakily pointing north in front of me. I turn my body so it points west.

Suddenly I hear someone walking towards me. I clam up immediately, snapping my head up in the direction of the sound in front of me now. Fear and panic began to fill me until my spinning eyes catch a flash of lilac.

West is here. Fully clothed with a black jacket, a lilac shirt and black jeans. He’s carrying a brown paper bag with him.

It’s too late to hide from him, he’s already seen me. A deep frown takes over his face as he comes closer.

“Blue..?”

This is the first time he’s seen me. I mean really seen me. He’s only ever really seen my head. I wish this could have happened at a different time where I’m fully clothed and my neck and wrists aren’t bruised and I haven't just been… been… that.

I try to force a smile for him. Something. Anything to show him I’m not completely filthy. Anything to get him to smile at me again. What if he leaves?

He doesn’t looked pleased with the sight of me. He looks disappointed. I feel myself panic at it.

I didn’t realize it until now but he’s one of the last good things I have left.

“Are you okay?” He kneels down in front of me. A look of worry and concern takes over his face.

I stare at him and my smile wobbles. He’s not disappointed. He’s worried. He’s worried about me. I give up on trying to force a smile and slowly break down right there in front of him. It started with just stuttering gasps as my eyes watered until huge tears began streaming down my face as I audibly sob.

After five years I’ve finally reached my breaking point.

West goes to hold me but I shake my head, hugging myself.

Before I can stop them, the words bubble up out of me “D-don’t tou-ouch me,” I hiccup, looking him in the eyes “I’m-mmh- dirty.”

He looks like he’s about ready to cry with me. He quickly takes his jacket off, wrapping it around me before I even have time to protest and gently ushers me into his arms.

I’m being hugged.

My mind has gone quiet. Waiting. Observing.

I hesitatingly rest my forehead against his chest, wide eyed. His hand cups the back of my head.

I’m shaking all over but I’m not scared.

“No worries, Blue. Let it out.”

My face crumples as a whole new set of tears well in my eyes and I cry into his chest, taking two fistfuls of his lilac shirt and holding onto them like they’re my life line.

I’m not sure how long West let’s me cry on him for. He makes no move to push me away. He’s just holding me, humming soothingly and rocking us back and forth.

It almost lulls me to sleep but I keep myself awake as I pull myself away from him, just enough to see his face. There’s no hint of annoyance or disgust. Just a soft smile as he asks, “feel a little better?”

I nod.

I stare down at his shirt that has been soaked through with tears. “Sorry,” I whisper.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for,” he assures.

I shake my head, ready to argue with him-

“Can you walk?” He asks softly.

I hesitate to answer which seems to be an answer enough for West as he scoops me up, picking up the paper bag and my nearly empty duffel bag as well.

“I have extra clothes in my car you could use. Is it okay if I carry you there? It’s not far from here.”

His question startles me a bit, “I don’t want to get your clothes dirty,” I whisper. My voice comes out harsh and raspy and my throat hurts like I’ve been screaming for hours. Maybe I have been.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. I can always wash them.”

Clothes would be nice.

I nod at him.

West carries me to his car which really wasn’t that far. I don’t know anything about cars but this one looks really nice and I feel really bad sitting in it. West hands me a fresh set of clothes and the first thing I do is peel off Reid’s shirt and throw it away. West doesn’t even question it as he turns around to give me privacy while I change in his car.

It still hurts to move and the awkward shape of the car doesn’t make it any easier to get dressed but I finally manage to do it.

I tap West’s shoulder when I’m done and he kneels down in front of the door so I’m looking down at him.

“Is it okay if I take you to the hospital, Blue? Just to make sure you have no serious injuries.”

What's a hospital?

We’ve never been to one.

I tilt my head, “I’ve never been to a hospital,” I mumble.

“They’re just going to look at your injuries and make sure you aren’t seriously hurt anywhere. And if you are, they’ll fix it for you and give you something to relieve the pain. They’ll probably also check to make sure your overall health is good. Is that okay?”

Yes.

How do we know we can trust him.

He’s been a nice man so far. He calls him Blue.

I nod and he smiles.

“Are you hungry?”

I shake my head.

We should eat.

“Not even for a pastry from that bakery I was talking about?” West opens that brown paper bag he’s been carrying and a delicious aroma comes from it. He pulls out a small triangular treat that looks like bread with little spots of a dark blueish purple and a white cream drizzled over it.

I’m suddenly pushed into the back of my mind.

My hands don’t even hesitate to snatch it from West and take a bite.

The rich flavor explodes in my mouth and I purr contently.

“It’s called a blueberry scone.”

I like blueberry scones.