Chapter 9

Nine

C illian

"Do you mind getting the door for me?" I asked Seamus, as I gathered her in my arms and waited patiently for the door to open. When he did, I stepped out gesturing for him to take off since in her state, I wasn't worried about her going anywhere. Personally, I just wanted the time alone.

"I'm going to take her upstairs and get her cleaned up. Probably won't need you until the morning time," I explained as I watched him take off into the night. Cradling her in my arms, I made my way through the hotel lobby and into the elevator.

She held me tightly until we reached the top floor, as the silence between us spoke louder than words. I finagled with the keys, struggling to get the door open, but had managed on the first try, as I carried her inside to the master bedroom's toilet. I set her down, preparing warm water for a bath and tested the temperature frequently to ensure it wasn't too hot.

On my knees, I turned to her, wondering if I could be of service or whether she just wanted to be left alone.

"Did you want a bit of privacy getting out of your gown, or would you like my help getting undressed?" Bringing her hand to her nose, she wiped away a sniffle and admitted she'd prefer the assistance.

It was one of the rare occasions that I chose not to lead with my own libido. A woman in this kind of torment would be the last person thinking about any kind of bedroom fun, and that took all the excitement out of it. When I took women to bed, they were usually happy about it, not sitting on the toilet crying, covered in their own piss.

My hand grazed the thin strap of her dress, until my instinct told me I was moving too fast. I lowered my hand to check in with what was permitted.

"I promise I'm not trying to be fresh or anything, I genuinely wanna help. If you want, I can even close my eyes. I just want you to be comfortable." She nodded, unable to meet my gaze.

"Maybe closing your eyes might help. Just until I'm in the water." Doing as she asked, I closed my eyes easing the pink soiled dress down her supple shoulders. She had such soft skin and delicate curves that felt like soft petals on a flower. I fought pulling the fabric down her hips. The way the dress fit her, I knew she had to have delectable hips, like the pinup girls you saw in the magazines.

With a clip of a few straps, I helped her out of her heels and soon after, helped ease her thigh length stockings down her thighs. It was torture being this close to a woman without the honor of admiring her but she wasn't in the state of someone who'd welcome being appreciated, so I kept my thoughts to myself.

"Thank you," she whispered, letting me help her bare body into the running tub. It dawned on me that all the clean wash clothes were likely in a hallway closet but when I stood to retrieve some, the gentle pull of her hand pleaded with me to stay. "Please don't leave me alone," she begged, defeated. I needed my eyes to be open. Didn't want to find myself tripping into the hallway and hurting myself in efforts to help her.

"Do you mind if I open my eyes, Elizabeth? I promise it won't be to stare at you." Hearing her adjust in the water, she gave me the okay if she was permitted to cover up. When I opened my eyes, she used her arms to cover her privates.

"I swear to you, I'll do my best to take care of you, but there aren't any clean wash clothes or towels in here. I have to go in the hallway to grab some. It's just a few steps away. You can watch me, it's not even that far. Is that alright?" I said, with a brush to her round cheek.

With a frightened look in her eye, she nodded. Something scarier than me must have spooked her if she was finding comfort and safety with me. I placed a light kiss on her forehead, before standing to head to the closet that hosted all the towels and washcloths. It took a couple guesses to determine which one it was since neither one of us had had a proper tour, but the second I found some, I grabbed more than she probably needed.

I wasn't sure what had come over me. One moment I'd found myself irritated by her. The next, utterly annoyed. At one point, I almost feared that I'd physically hurt her because that's how mad she drove me.

But when I sensed her terror, something activated inside me. Now, all I wanted was to protect her. To save her from the humiliation of surrendering to fear. My stomach knotted at the tears falling down her eyes, and while one may have called her broken, to me she had never looked more breathtaking.

"I'm sorry for ruining your night," she said between sniffles. "I think maybe I just overreacted since it's been a while since I've been around such big crowds. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, I'm happy to do it." I lifted her chin to meet my gaze, shame and insecurity laced in her large, dark eyes.

"Elizabeth, you're a mess. There is nothing I'd ask you to do for me when you're like this. I'm happy to wash your back if you like. As I promised before, it won't be weird or anything. I just generally want to help." With her arms covering her breasts, she turned to me.

"That would be fine. It's just I don't…I don't want you to get my hair wet. Can you find something for me to tie it up with? But no rubber bands or anything like it. Things like that aren't gentle enough for my hair." I thought back to her side of the bedroom where she had her personal things. She kept knickknacks and thingamajigs on the dresser, one had to be something she used in her hair.

"I'll be right back, okay?"

"Please don't leave," she begged, as I bent down to meet her.

"I only want to grab some of your hair things. Just like with the towels, I'll be right back." Like a broken doll, she nodded as I raced the clock to find something, anything I saw her wear in her hair.

Between clips and headbands, I settled on a black and white silk scarf. I know I'd seen her wear it, I just didn't know how she'd put it on. Her slumped posture straightened upon my return and I held the scarf out to her to make sure it was suitable.

"I swear I've seen you wear this one before, I just need a lesson in tying it."

"Give it here, I'll just do it." She replied weakly.

"If you do it, won't be nothing more private between us. Might as well just let me have a go at it." She rested her chin on the tops of her knees.

"You ever handle a Colored girl's hair before?" I shrugged. I've never handled any woman's hair before. But that didn't mean I couldn't try.

"No, but how hard can it be to fold it in half and just get your hair off your shoulders?" I replied, which she didn't fight me on. Just as I suggested, I folded it in half, hesitating to fist her thick, wild hair. I brought my nose to her strands, lost in its rich flowery scent before delicately taking it into my fingers to admire the way every coil spun in its own little unique, perfect pattern. I used to think my light ginger curls were thick but adjusting her God given halo, my hair would never compete with her crown.

Her hair smelled like a cool breeze amongst a bed of flowers, with just a hint of chamomile. Once off her bare shoulders, I was more exposed to her skin. Soft and delicate like satin, or perhaps even silk.

"Is that all right, Elizabeth?" She turned to me, tucking her lip before adjusting in the bathtub.

"Actually, if you don't mind, people close to me call me Queenie. You can call me that if you like." A warm smile broke free from a frown.

"Sure thing, Queenie. If it's alright with you, I'm going to wash your back now." Bringing the washcloth to the top of her shoulders, in light circles I caressed the length of her back. As the water dripped along her lush dark skin, I found myself curious to why before her I never found myself enamored with different kinds of women.

Her complexion was perfect, not freckled and uneven tone like mine. It was the prettiest shade of dark brown that had reminded me of springtime in Ireland. I'd only been back a few times but her earthly shade had made me feel like home. Few people had that effect on me, not even my family.

"You know, you don't have to tell me what happened back at the party. I've seen and gone through enough to know people only react that way when they're scared of something. Or someone."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe not, but I know enough to know it likely wasn't your fault." She huffed.

"It's always my fault. That's what he used to tell me."

"Who used to tell you that?" She shook her head.

"I can't, you would only agree with him."

"You're wrong, Queenie. I don't agree with no one that hurts girls." For anyone that would blame her for something beyond her control, had to be crueler than I'd ever take credit for.

She took a deep breath, and for a moment I thought we would only sit there in silence. Relief washed over me when she finally opened her sweet mouth to speak.

"You don't know what it's like being a woman. Everything is your fault, even when it isn't." I placed the washcloth on the edge of the tub's surface.

"You're right. I don't know what it's like being a woman. But it still doesn't mean that whatever's happened to you is your fault, gender aside." Her light sniffles echoed as she turned around in her seat to face me.

"Growing up, especially when I started growing hips and needing bras, there wasn't a boy who could look in my direction without my parents accusing me of being promiscuous. My dad's solution was to keep me invested in school. Mainly to keep me away from the boys in my neighborhood. I've always gone to all girl's schools because of it. But one day, a boy from our church slipped a letter in my Bible telling me how much he liked me and wanted to go steady.

Unfortunately, my dad found it and decided he would start having my body…looked at," she hesitated, ashamed. "Because no daughter of his was going to have no reputation of being fast. Modesty checks he called them. They started when I was twelve." What she admitted next made me sick to my stomach. No way would I ever put a child through that. No way would I force a child to do what was done to me.

"The doctor… he would stick his fingers inside me. And just soil me with his gloved hands. I would shut my eyes just praying for the time to be over." It was coming back to me now. She mumbled something our first night together. The same thing she mumbled at the benefit. Almost like, a bible scripture.

"For a time, it had just become my normal whenever my papa had a feeling. For a long time, I thought that was what every father had done to their daughter's, until a girlfriend of mine told me that it wasn't. At least twice a year he'd make me endure those nightmares. More if I hung out a little later than intended with my girlfriend or something. I made a habit of just coming straight home from school because I loathed every minute it took to drive to that hospital room.

Sick thing was, I think the doctor liked putting me through it. Like he got off on or something. The second I turned eighteen, I swore, I would never let him touch me again. The final time came a few weeks short of my eighteenth birthday. He tried to get around it, trying to get me to consent to something more. But I swore to him I'd scream if he took his pants off. I'm sure going to miss these times with you. That was the last thing he said to me. On the way to my Papa's car, I threw up on the side of the sidewalk. I felt so fucking disgusting."

Half way through her story I knew right away. The doctor at our table. The way she became unresponsive. He was her abuser. And there she was, forced to sit next to him and relive her own personal of hell.

"The white man at our table tonight, was it him?" Fighting back tears, her voice cracked.

"Yes." Overwhelmed with rage, I shot up from the toilet.

"I have to go." I needed to find out where the man lived. I had to make him pay for hurting her. With a pull to my wrist, her doe eyes pleaded with me.

"I don't want to be alone right now. Please, don't go." I wanted to leave, I needed to tear through a fucking wall. Most of all I wanted to make him pay for the pain and suffering he caused, but there was something about the innocent look in her eye and warm feel of her touch that had grounded me. Bending down to her, I brought her wrists to my lips, planting kisses to her hand.

"I promise, Queenie. I won't let anything hurt you. Let's get you out of here so that precious skin doesn't shrivel up." Wrapping a towel around her curvy frame, I helped her out of the bathtub, another towel in tow as I carried her to the bedroom and carefully lied her on the bed.

"I'm just going to help you dry your legs and feet off, and if you want, I can grab you something to wear so you can lay down." She nodded, allowing me to wipe the excess moisture from her limbs and toes, as to save myself the headache, I grabbed her a dress shirt from my closet because despite her curvy figure, she was still smaller than me.

"I'll give you some privacy. That extra room has a nice twin size bed with my name on it. I thought you might be more comfortable sleeping here since you have been for the past day or two. Got quite used to a twin spending the last three years in prison. Least this one's a million times more comfortable." Buttoning my dress shirt up, she let the towel underneath her fall to the floor.

"Actually, I was wondering if you could just lay here with me? Just until I fall asleep." My eyes widened in surprise, suddenly realizing I was in nothing but dirty clothes.

"Do you mind if I change my shirt and trousers? I don't want the first time I sit with you, for me to be covered in piss. Shyly, she bit her lip, stacking her smooth, brown legs on top of each other on the bed.

"Of course."

"I'll just be a moment." I exited up the room, grabbing a shirt and trousers on my way to the toilet. Having a quick wash and change, I returned to our shared bedroom, curling up next to her small, curvy frame. This close, she felt so small in my arms. This close, she felt like mine. When she didn't flinch from my touch, I pressed up against her, finding solace in the aroma of her flower-scented hair.

"I want to remind you that whatever's happened to you, isn't your fault. Sometimes the people that should be protecting us, are the first to put us in harm's way. My Pa had me do things that I didn't want to do either. Hearing your bravery and honesty, helps me understand that what I went through wasn't my fault either. Which is why I'm so quick to act in those types of situations. Groomers fucking disgust me. And the only good pedo I ever met, was a dead one. If I could rid the whole fucking world of them I would." I placed my hand on her shoulder, as she hooked her foot around the length of my calf.

"You do know that it's not your fault, don't you?" She shrugged.

"Sometimes. For the longest, my freedom and the right over my body had belonged to my father. In those dark moments in the examination room, I only ever belonged to him. And then, just days ago I was told that I would belong to you. The man I helped lock away. Seems like it'll never be me who decides who I belong to, or even if I want to belong to anyone."

Brushing my finger along her cheek, I couldn't help admiring the contrast between her skin tone and mine.

"If you decide that you don't like it here, then you don't have to stay. I'm not going to force anyone to stay married to me, especially if you'd rather be with someone of your own kind." Under her breath, she laughed.

"And what exactly is someone of my own kind ?"

"Wholesome. A man who's got a good relationship with God. A man who makes an honest living in a factory or an office. Not a street thug like me." She hmphed.

"And here I thought that you were going to say Colored."

"Yeah, that too." She flipped over to face me, her gamine features looking especially soft with the help of city lights from outside.

"You know, you Irish care more about skin color more than we ever will." She cast her gaze downward, resting her eyes as she adjusted her head on her elbow. With a stroke of her cheek, a soft moan left her lips, her angelic face looking peaceful as she rested.

"Maybe, but I'm starting not to think much about your color. Only to the fact that I think it's stunning."

"Hmm," she mumbled, quietly drifting off in her peaceful version of sleep.

"Queenie?" I called out softly, determining if she was truly asleep before slipping out of bed. Fighting with my pants to go each pant leg, I'd hoped to be back before she even noticed. If I was lucky, what I planned to do next wouldn't take me long at all.

***

"Pull over by the dock, Pad. And remember, not a word of this to anyone, especially not Tadhg."

Since my release, I promised my eldest brother I'd be on my best behavior. The thing I could count on when it came to Paddy was that he and I were shit at being on our best behaviors.

We always gave into the worst part of our natures, and I knew to get this job done quick and clean, that he was the only one I could ring this late in the night. He reached over to the glove compartment, dangling a vile of coke in front of my face.

"It's been a while, Cill. You need a bump?" Tempted, I refused, throwing it back in there before cocking my pistol, and tucking it in the back of my trousers.

"No, I want to be sober for this one. Do me a favor and help me get him out of the trunk."

Paddy took a drag of a cigarette and a sip of something from a flask that he pulled out from his waistcoat.

Together we exited the vehicle, heading toward the trunk. The tied-up man, squirmed and let out a scream of terror when reunited with the sight of our faces. I held him by the legs while Paddy pulled him from his underarms as we laid him down carelessly on the hard pavement.

Behind the tape that covered his mouth, he seemed to be saying a whole lot for a man claiming to be innocent. Open to the entertainment, I ripped away the thick tape masking his lips as his face twisted in a tight grimace of pain.

"I don't know what that lying nigger bitch told you, but whatever she's said, none of it is true." Bringing my pistol level with his eyes, I released the safety, using everything in my power not to shoot him where he stood.

"Careful how you talk about my wife, old man. If anyone's the nigger bitch, it's the fucking pervert with a gun pointed to his head. I only ungagged you to give you a chance to make good with God."

"Please, if you could just listen to me." At this point, I'd grown tired of his voice, crying and whining like wee little baby. Fighting back patience, I lifted the barrel of the gun to his neck and pulled the trigger, the contact of the close-range shot causing a gaping hole, that made him gag and splatter blood all over my face and dress coat. He was either going to bleed out or choke to death on his own blood, as either were fine by me.

"Changed my mind. A tosser like you don't deserve God's forgiveness." Soon, the gurgling of blood came to an end, Paddy slowly clapped, followed by another long drag of his cigarette before releasing it into the cool night air.

"Jesus Cilly, that time in the bucket made you more impatient than an adulterer sneaking out past midnight. You used to drag it out. You used to finesse that shit. Now it's just pew pew . I've had enough of you . What'd the cocksucker do to garner a night call?" I bummed a fag off him, as I lit a match and let the pull of nicotine relax my lungs.

"A sick thing he won't ever do again." Paddy flicked the butt of the cigarette on the dock's pavement, just inches where the doctor's lifeless body laid.

"Works for me," he replied, before helping me tie cement blocks to his feet, as we threw the bloody corpse in the depths of the Boston Harbor.