7

LILIANA

As I sit bound to this chair, the last person I expect to see walks in - a petite girl with a ragged doll clutched in her fingers.

On her frail form is a flower-patterned dress made out of cotton which almost succeed in making her look harmless.

She has a head filled with dreadlocks which blend with her caramel skin. Yet, she looks… deranged?

No, unstable is the word.

One of the men quickly bring a chair which they place in front of me. She mutters something to their hearing and they nod.

Lowering herself to the seat, she says, “I need to go back to bed.” Her voice is barely audible. Her head, bowed. “You only have a few minutes to answer my question.”

Laughter bubbles out of my throat before I think twice about it. I toss an incredulous look at the burly men situated in the corners of the room.

“You all are so pathetic for dragging a little girl into your sick mess. Your boss ran away with his tail for a dick between his legs and presented me with this?” I scoff.

“What next? Annabelle?” My tone is dripping with derision. The man is twisted beyond redemption.

Her head snaps up, and I feel a shiver travel down my spine.

“Liljana Hoxha.” She calls ever so softly, her Albanian accent sending a chill through me. “My apologies, the man is too crude in his ways.”

When she raises her eyes to meet mine, they're like void; bottomless and dark. I straighten in my seat, watching her with curiosity and dread. My insides are knotted tight but with what?

I can't place my fingers on it.

However, judging from the energy shift in the atmosphere, this little girl hasn't the innocence that embodies one.

“You know Nicolo, don't you?” She asks, paying her doll special attention like it is alive. “If you deny knowing him, then you're tagged an accomplice to his child trafficking.”

My eyebrow raise in amusement. “Child trafficking? That's a stupid accusation, little girl. Try something else if you need to get me to squeak.”

She giggles. I feel terror climb up my spine at the sound. “Should I show it to her?” She says to her dumb doll like they're in a bubble of their own.

She lowers the doll and turns her palm open towards me. There's a small picture of the man, Nicolo, he is butt naked with his smiling face turned towards the camera.

What I see next has my blood filling with ice. Underneath him is a little girl whose face is shaped in what might be a look of pain and fear combined.

The fact that he is filmed during this act and finds it humorous is what sickens me.

I'd always known there was something off about him. I just didn't think it was down to this level of depravity.

I manage to school my expression, then answer, “The only things we have ever exchanged are pleasantries. I don't know what business he's involved in. The last I saw him was at my wedding.”

She giggles again and I have to look at the men with furrowed eyebrows to question her sanity.

“He’s dead.” She announces with a creepy smile that sends another sliver of dread into me.

The sudden news startle me. If anything, she seems happier at her own revelation. “Where's your husband?”

“Get her out!” I spit instead of the words that come to mind at that moment. I'm unsure whether telling a child to fuck off is appropriate.

“You're so innocent.” She comments after she rakes her eyes throughout my body in scrutiny. “You seem innocent. And hurt too.” After a while adds, “Did those men get to you too?”

I suddenly lose my cool when I feel her probing somewhere in my mind. “I need her out of here right this instant!” I yell to the men who choose to play dumb.

Someone bellows. “Hey! We decide who leaves and who stays. So shut your running mouth and answer the giddamn question.”

I scowl at him, my anger rising at not being able to flip him the bird. “You're an asshole.”

“That's a compliment used by so many. I need new one. Maybe you'll give me when I get you moaning under me.” He retorts with a sick smile.

I lean forward and retch so hard that my body heaves despite the binds. My throat feels sore by the time I'm done and my mouth is bitter from bile as well.

“Burn in hell.” I spit with venom, eyeing him with rage coursing through me.

“Ladies first.” He winks.

I struggle against my bonds all to no avail. My breath comes out in short rasps after my futile attempts. Then I resort to the best I can in the condition I'm in; I glare hard.

The little girl squats in front of me. She smells of wild roses and dried urine. “We need to know your husband's whereabout. That way we can do justice for whatever wrong he has done to you.”

I keep mute at her assumptions. As long as I'm held hostage without my permission, they would not get me to speak against Kyle.

If they had the guts, why not when he was still alive? Bloody cowards all of them. Just like their boss.

She reaches out to tuck my hair between my ears and glides her fingers down my face, stopping at my chin. She is being provocative on purpose.

I wince when she presses into the bruise on the side of my face. When I yank my head out of her grip, she startles me by tightening her fingers on my chin in a vice grip.

She hisses, “You will reply as long as I ask a question. The knowledge of the whereabouts of your husband is in your head and I need it so I can go back to sleep.” Her voice hardens, rising to a crescendo as she speaks.

I feel a small crack in the spot where she holds. Any second now and my jaws could go slack. “Yes.” I wince as I ground out.

The moment she lets go, shame fills me at my easy submission.

“Good.”

Gone is the adult and back in it's place is the harmless little girl. She peers into my eyes with deep sated sorrow that pulls her features down.

“He hurt you and will continue to. You don't realize it yet. I can help you.” Her voice is a small whisper as she rambles on.

I have lost track of her jargons, trapped in the maze of her words.

“Why is he holding me hostage?” I speak in a hushed whisper matching hers.

She smiles genuinely this time. “He'll save you. He's coming to save you.”

I want to hit my head against a surface so I can wake up from this this nightmare.

How badly I want to kick her too. Then again, she's just a child who's fucked up in the head.

She straightens.

I scrunch my nose at the pungent stench of urine. “I don't need anyone's saving. I need to go home, take a proper shower and freshen up. I suggest you take one too.”

Her features brightens suddenly and it suggests to me that her next words would spell a disaster.

“Why go all the way home when you can have a shower in one of the many bathrooms in this house?”

I knew it. The little fucker.

Before I utter a word of protest, she turns to the men with a bounce. “Take her to Alice with instructions to have her thoroughly washed. Oh, her breath stinks too.”

I've never felt more insulted by anyone. Let alone such a small kid.

Heaven help me!