CHAPTER FOUR

C HAPTER FOUR

DALIA

I love my job and I hate my job at the same time. I love the end of working with victims of trafficking, domestic violence, and rape. The end is when they've learned they can go on. The monsters in their world didn't take everything as they once suspected.

They survived.

The beginning is the hard part. They are terrified of everyone. These poor women, and sometimes children, sit waiting for the predator to come back for them. They don't just think it will happen, they know.

These women are as sure of it as religious people are that God exists. It doesn't matter how many times they're told they are safe now. It's never something they believe for a long time. It's not right. Of course, this isn't their fault. They didn't choose this. Yet it's them that has to do the work to get through to the other side. The place where fear and pain become a little more distant and you can breathe.

I know the pain they've endured more than most Social Workers, because I've lived it firsthand. As the only De Luca daughter, I was born with a target on my back. While my mother didn't survive the rival family that took her life, somehow, I did.

I stand staring at the sixteen year old that was rescued three days ago. Max and his family of assassins are all friends of my brothers. Once upon a time, apparently, he was a brutal assassin that ended lives for the almighty dollar. When his sister became a victim of human trafficking and he found her, things changed. He's still a violent man but only goes after those that hurt women and children, unlike my brothers. I was born into a family of mobsters and while they are soft and sweet with me, they are lethal men that will not blink an eye at brutally murdering anyone who steps in their way.

Victoria was taken from a shopping mall when she was hanging out with her friends, simply being a normal teenage girl. I'm told that was three years ago. For the last thirty-six months she has been through a horrible ordeal. One that she will get through but will change her. The innocence is gone, replaced with a darkness one cannot understand unless they've walked through a similar hell. She sits huddled in the corner between the bed and the wall. Wide, frightened, watery eyes stare at me with a haunting expression. I keep my distance, but squat down so I'm not towering over her, "Victoria, you're safe. We need you to eat some food, okay? It doesn't have to be a lot, but you need nourishment in order to survive."

Her eyes catch the heart necklace hanging from my neck. It's rose gold with an inlay of a dark blue dahlia on it. My mothers favorite flower, and how I got my name.

"Do you want to see it?"

She nods silently while she sniffles, so I take it off and reach out so I can hand it to her. Her trembling fingers rub over the dahlia, as if she's trying to memorize every inch of it. For the last three days Max and his people have been trying to find her family with no success. The goal is to get her to talk eventually, but first and foremost is to get her to take care of herself. It's not uncommon for victims to refuse to eat or shower. A lot of times when I get to them it's their way of coping. The one thing they can control. Oftentimes they watch us like hawks to see if we will force them to do the things we're asking them to do. She is on day three of no eating, and unfortunately if she doesn't eat soon, a feeding tube will have to be put in, but that's a last resort. The last thing we want to do is strip more from her. However, we won't let her die either.

"Do you remember my name?"

"Dalia," she whispers, almost as if she's saying it to herself.

"That's right. I was named after the flower also called dahlia, but spelled a little differently."

Victoria focuses on my necklace as she begins to speak more words than we've heard her say, "Is Matteo coming for me?"

I lower myself to the floor and cross my legs, "No, Victoria. The bad men are gone, I promise you're safe."

Her gaze raises to mine, a haunted vacant look in hers that sends chills down my spine, "You're pretty," she says in a broken voice, "I used to be pretty too."

The worst part of being violated as a young girl is the way it leaves you feeling about yourself. They take a beautiful child and destroy every ounce of self worth she once had. Once they're safe, and taken out of the violent situation, the damage remains. It's entirely possible to heal however, it takes years. The damage is never undone. You never truly get over it. You just learn to live with it.

"Victoria, you're still a very pretty girl. I know it doesn't seem like it now but you will get through this. Do you know how I know?"

She shakes her head, still rubbing her thumb over the flower on my necklace, "I've been where you are. When I was a little girl there were bad men that hurt me too. Not every girl survives what we went through, but we did. Only the strongest survive."

Do I believe that those that died in captivity are weak? No, not at all. However, it's what she needs to hear right now. The only way she gets through this is by building self esteem, and it all starts with her strength. Her resilience. This is the morsel of self worth she desperately needs.

Getting Victoria to eat has been an ordeal, which isn't at all abnormal behavior. You would think they'd be relieved to have been rescued, and want all the normal things like eating and showering. However, that's not how it works. The fear after being rescued is often as severe as the fear they experience in captivity.

She comes back into the room after having a shower, "That was nice," she smiles shyly. A shower won't solve all her problems, but it's a start. Learning to take care of herself is a big step in the right direction. However, if we can't find her family she'll end up in foster care, which can be a trauma all on its own.

"I need to head out but Maria has my number, okay? If you need anything she'll call me. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Victoria crosses her arms over her chest, showing her displeasure, which is a good sign, "You're leaving? What am I supposed to do?"

I smile softly, "You aren't restricted to this room. You can go anywhere in the house. There's a pool, an art room, you can watch TV, there's tons of things for you to do. You can even go outside if you wish, but only if a staff member accompanies you."

As I walk to the door, I turn to her briefly, "As you know the kitchen is open twenty-four hours a day. If you get hungry or just want a snack please help yourself. The only rule with the kitchen is to clean up after yourself. If you need help, any of the staff will be happy to assist you."

She reaches out her hand holding my necklace, "You want this back, right?"

I shake my head, "Why don't you hold onto it for tonight."

When she holds it to her heart like it's everything in her world I know I did the right thing, even though my brother Domenic will definitely ask why I'm not wearing it. I've worn it since he gave it to me on my twelfth birthday. That's never changed, only the chain has gotten longer over the years.

As I walk into my brother's house, I'm filled with excitement to see my nephew, Domenic Junior. He is the first child for my brother and his wife, Giada, but if Domenic has any say it won't be their last. He has taken to fatherhood like a fish to water. He reminds me a lot of our father. I push that thought out of my mind because fifteen years after they both died, it still hurts.

"Hey, Pipsqueak," Domenic says, interrupting my inner turmoil. I clear my throat, "Hi, Big Ogre."

He puts his arm around me as we walk to the great room, toward a giggling Giada, sitting on a chair holding the baby in her arms. It's only been six months since she had him and she looks absolutely radiant. I think she must have lost all the baby weight, because she looks the same as she did when they met.

"Dalia!" She squeals, "I'm so happy you could make it."

I giggle as I rush over and demand the baby from her arms, "Like I would miss out on seeing my favorite De Luca."

"Are Dante and Drake not here?" I ask as I sit down on the couch, never taking my eyes from my beautiful nephew. He has this jet black hair that's soft as fur, and when they're open, pretty dark eyes that appear to take in everything. He already reminds me so much of my brother. Domenic pulls Giada out of the chair, sits down and pulls her onto his lap, "They are at the pool with Natalia."

I ask them both, "How are you doing with that ?"

My brother drags his hand down his face, "I'm not happy with the way it came about."

Giada interjects, "I'm not either but I've never seen Nat so happy."

Personally, I can't imagine being with one man, let alone two. I've never even been on a date after what happened to me in my childhood. I trust my brothers but nobody else. I probably never will. As much as I want children, I've accepted it won't happen for me and that's okay. There is zero chance I'll ever let a man get that close to me. For a long time my brothers offered to vet any man I might be interested in. They brought it up repeatedly and then simply stopped. I think they realized it wasn't going to happen. I'll forever be single, simply because I'll forever be too damaged to give anyone a chance. It's not because I don't want what all of my brothers now have, I do. I just can't.