Chapter 19

Emjay

"Somewhere over the years, I've grown spoiled over life's comforts and it sickens me." ~ Emjay

I struggled to sleep last night, missing the luxuries I've grown accustomed to, such as a soft mattress, warm blankets, and a climate-controlled room. The hard ground left me tossing and turning. Every rock and root pressed uncomfortably against my back, and the sounds of nature, usually so soothing, were amplified by the quiet night. Without the familiar comfort of my bed, rest remained out of reach.

When the first light of dawn creeps into the sky, I rub my tired sockets, trying to shake off the fatigue.

The morning routine starts early for the women and children. Despite their new freedom, they maintained their structure. "Good morning," Damian says, before heading outside to ask for supplies. I stare at his tall figure silhouetted against the soft morning light. Every time I look his way, I wonder if a man can truly bring me pleasure and not pain?

I find a place out of the way to sit and observe. My mind drifts as I watch the small community come to life. The women chat in low whispers while they prepare breakfast, and the children play nearby, their laughter the opposite of the grim memories that haunt me. I can't help but feel a pang of envy at their innocence and resilience.

"What's it like out there?" Georgia wonders. Her words pull me back from my thoughts. She sits beside me, her wide stare fills with curiosity and desire.

My mind goes back to when I had to carry pails of water back and forth, each trip a grueling reminder of my captivity.

"There's good and bad." I offer vaguely, not wanting to dampen her excitement. "The world is vast and full of wonders, but it can be harsh too."

"I've never been outside," Georgia continues, her tone tinged with wistfulness and enthusiasm. "But the others who have, they would tell me about everything they saw and did. I want to try chocolate, ride in a car, watch a movie, go shopping." Georgia's face lights up with enchantment over the adventures waiting for her outside. Her dreams seem so simple.

Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I smile despite the heaviness in my heart. She'll experience more of the good if I have anything to say about it.

Thirty-two years ago

I stumbled down an alley. My bare feet stung with each step on the rough pavement.

The city around me was full of noise and light, a world away from the quiet, controlled environment I've known all my life.

I had no money, and no clothes save for the tattered dress I escaped in, which is blood stained from delivering my children on my own. I had no identification, no birth certificate, and no social security number. All the things I found out I needed to get a job to make money. I had no idea what these documents were that this society required to survive or how to get them.

The human world was a strange and bewildering place, full of wonders and dangers I could barely comprehend. I had no time for the wonders, because every day I battled to survive.

I rifled through a trash can with hunger gnawing at my stomach. My fingers searched for anything edible. I found half a sandwich, the bread stale and the filling unidentifiable, but it was food, and I devoured it.

Nights were the worst. I sought shelter wherever I could: under bridges, in abandoned buildings, or sometimes curled up in doorways, using old newspapers as makeshift blankets.

The nights are cold, yet I was used to sleeping on the hard ground because it was all I'd ever known. There was a comfort in the familiarity of it.

One day, while searching for clothing, I discovered a donation bin behind a thrift store. I grabbed what I could before anyone caught me—an oversized sweater, a pair of worn jeans, and a mismatched set of socks. They were far from perfect, but they were warm and free of blood, giving me a small measure of comfort in their embrace.

Weeks passed, each day blending into the next in a haze of survival. I'd grown accustomed to the stares from strangers, the pitying glances, and the occasional offer of spare change.

This day was just another day. I sat on a park bench, clutching my meager belongings. I looked over at a man staring at me. He appeared to be in his late thirties with kind eyes and gentle mannerisms. He approached me cautiously, as if afraid I'd run off.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft. I was unaccustomed to male kindness.

I stared at him with a wary gaze and shook my head, too tired and hungry to lie.

The man sat beside me, keeping a respectful distance. "My name is Larry. I couldn't help but notice you seem to need some help."

I nodded. My throat was too dry to speak.

Larry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of water, offering it to me. With trembling hands, I took it, then drank greedily.

"I have a room," Larry said after a moment. "It's not much, but it's warm and safe. You can stay there, if you like."

I handed back the water bottle. "I don't have any money."

His hand slid across my thigh and up higher than I was comfortable with. "I'm sure we can come to an arrangement." His meaning was clear. In an instant, he went from a kind stranger to just another monster looking for someone to prey upon.

Tears welled up in my sockets. What other choice did I have? I had to survive for my girls. If Basil ever found them, they would need me.

I nodded, unable to speak.

Larry stood, offering me his hand. My stomach dropped when I took it. The feeling that I'd left one prison for another consumed me.

"Emjay, where did you go?" Georgia shakes my shoulders. The worry in her tone I caused makes me cringe with regret.

"I'm sorry, Georgia. Sometimes the memories overtake me, and I get lost."

She squeezes my hand and offers a smile.

The morning continues. We both rise and head toward the women to offer help with the chores.

Their idle chatter is a testament of the resilience and strength that lies within each of us. Despite the pain and suffering we have endured, there's a collective determination to start over and find happiness.

Georgia prattles on about trying chocolate. Violet can't wait to learn to read so she can teach her son, Alexander. Kore plans to find a job of any kind no matter what her mate has to say about it. Young Irida wants to see the ocean. Olympia and Sara can't wait for an opportunity to cook a meal on a proper stove like they encountered on the times they were forced to sleep with humans in their homes. Niki wants a new dress for every day of the week.

Tara encourages the girls to focus on the things they'd like to see and do. It seems she's using it as a distraction. While their thoughts linger on good things, their fears of the males outside takes a seat in the background.

The day goes on with more dreams and laughter. All the tension from the early morning hours has faded away.

When the sun rests high in the sky, Damian returns with his first delivery of supplies sent by the mates outside. His handsome face flushes from the exertion.