Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
“What jobs?”
“One night when I was seven. . .” Giorgio looked down at his cup of coffee. “I woke up because of a loud truck pulling into the back of our house. Some nights I can still hear the squeaking of those tires. I do not know. . .why that sounds comes back more than the others.”
I tensed.
“Curious, I grabbed my teddy bear, left my bed, and went to the window.”
“What did you see?”
“My father stood by the back of the truck, smoking a cigarette with another man and talking. I assumed it was the driver of the truck.” Giorgio’s expression hardened. “A second man began pulling chained girls outside of the back of the truck. There were many of them, young, chained, and naked. None could have been older than fourteen.”
I parted my lips in shock.
“I was too young to understand what was going on.”
“Your father was into human trafficking?”
“A supposed man of God.” Giorgio frowned. “One girl began fighting at the man guiding them out. She screamed and screamed. She must have been twelve. She had this short brown hair.”
I shivered in disgust.
“My father stopped talking and walked up to her.”
I leaned forward.
“So young, I saw my father as a hero. I thought he was going to help her.”
“What did he do?”
“He slammed his fists into her face over and over until she collapsed to the ground and passed out in her own blood.” Giorgio let out a long breath. “I vomited on myself and then ran for my mother.”
“Did you tell your mother what you saw?”
“I did, but she was not in control of our household. She had no voice. My father ruled with a fist that he was not afraid to use.” Giorgio sighed again. “Once my mother cleaned me up, she told me to forget what I saw and go to sleep. . .but I never forgot.”
I pursed my lips together.
“And I saw that little girl again.”
“You did?”
“My father kept her.” Rage filled Giorgio’s eyes. “First, she helped the chef in the kitchen. Later, she cleaned our rooms during the day. But at night. . .”
I blinked. “What happened at night?”
“At night, she served him.” Giorgio looked away. “Sometimes her cries rose throughout our massive house. I heard them. Surely. . .my mother did too. . .and the rest of the staff—”
“No one stopped him?”
“No one.” Giorgio stirred in the chair and began fidgeting with one of his diamond cufflinks. “This went on for years. She grew and I did too. Soon. . .she became in charge of me, and that was when. . .”
What?
I wanted to hug him, but I wasn’t sure if that would freak him out. Instead, I scooted my chair closer to him and placed my hand on his arm.
He stared at my hand and stopped messing with the cufflink. “By now, she was in her late teens. She had to check my homework and iron my school uniform for the next day. She was also supposed to make sure I took my bath. Then, she had to read me a story and confirm that I said my prayers. This was her job every night. . .before she went to serve my father.”
I swallowed.
“Bath time. . .” Giorgio moved his arm away from my hand. “At twelve. . .”
I lowered my voice. “What did she do?”
“Perhaps. . .her intent was to bring me pleasure or. . .maybe it was revenge against my father.” He shook his head. “All I know is that. . .I never felt clean afterwards. Always dirty. Nasty. . .”
Sorrow filled me. “I am so sorry, Giorgio.”
My mind was plagued with curiosity as to what she had done to him, yet I knew I had to resist the temptation to ask. How could I expect him to relive all those terrible memories even if it meant getting the answers I wanted?
I wish I could kill her? Is she alive?
“I never told anyone because I knew what my father would do to her.” His bottom lip quivered. “And. . .my doctor says that I probably felt guilt, but. . .I do not know.”
“You were too young.” I gritted my teeth. “She was abused and then. . .decided to abuse you.”
“Bath time always lasted far too long. Then, she made me say my prayer and left my room. Next, I would go right back into the bathroom, take off my pajamas, and take a boiling hot shower. And I would clean and clean and scrub and. . .” Giorgio closed his eyes. “After weeks of this, my skin began to flake and scab. My mother thought I had an allergic reaction to the soap. She took me to all types of dermatologists. None had any answer for her. And still late at night, I would scrub under the hot water.”
So much sadness rocked my body. Giorgio had opened up so fully I could almost reach into his very soul. I tried to touch him again. He shook his head.