Page 13 of Echoes From Within

“Hey sweetheart,” he says, his voice much softer than when he was talking to the guards. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I wouldn’t be able to talk even if I wanted to. Fear has caused my throat to swell.

“I’m going to sit down near you, alright sweetheart?” the man says kindly.

With my eyes squeezed tight, I can’t see him, but I can feel his presence. It’s big. Almost overpowering.

“Do they have cameras in here?” he whispers once he’s seated on the floor in front of me.”

I try to make myself appear even smaller but still give him the curtesy of nodding to his question.

“Are they really going to take away your food if you don’t do as they say?”

I nod. He doesn’t need to know the extent of that exact punishment but it doesn’t matter either way.

“Fuck. What am I going to do?”

I hear the man move and I take a chance at opening my eyes. I don’t dare look up but I watch his legs as he paces back and forth. He has on a black pair of boots and some dark jeans.

He paces for several minutes before, once again, stopping right in front of me. I watch his legs as he crouches down, close, but still far enough away that I don’t feel crowded.

“What’s your name, babygirl? I’m Travis. I swear on my Ma that I’m not going to hurt you.”

I hear the sincerity in his voice but I don’t think he understands why he was brought here. Regardless of if he wants to hurt me or not, he’s going to have to. The last man said the same thing. His words were kind, but when I looked up into his face, his eyes and his smile were not.

I fear that the second I look into this new man's face, it will be the same. So, I continue to stare at his boots.

When he doesn’t move or speak for several minutes, I find the nerve to look up. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and a leather jacket. Nothing super special about his outfit, but it sure does look warm.

I make it to his mouth, but I don’t see any smile. Finally, I reach his eyes, fully prepared for the evil looking back at me.

But I see none.

He’s young. Probably late twenties or early thirties. Clean-shaven, with beautiful blue eyes. When our eyes meet, I’m taken aback by the intensity of his stare. With his stare alone I feel as if I’m in a room with several people watching.

Intense.

“How do I know you even care about your Ma?” I ask, my voice hoarse from crying.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head.

“You said you swear on your Ma,” I remind him quietly. “How do I even know if you care about her enough to swear on her?”

A small smile forms on his handsome face.

“That’s a good point, sweetheart,” he admits. “I guess you’re just going to have to trust me. My Ma is very important to me and I would die to protect her.”

“I bet that’s nice,” I say, feeling sad that I don’t have someone like that in my life. The only man who ever wanted to protect me was my daddy.

“What’s your name?” he asks again.

“Seven,” I answer automatically.

“No,” he says forcefully. “Your real name, babygirl. What is it?”

Should I tell him? He doesn’t seem like the other man who raped me. I mean, regardless, he’s going to end up doing the same thing. He doesn’t have a choice, the same as me.

“Sophia,” I sigh. “My name is Sophia. Or Sophie. Whichever.”