Dinner Talk

Danielle

“So, are you going to tell me where the wounds on your back come from?” He asks me as he drives his fork through the steaming pasta on his plate.

“Erm…” I start, clearing my throat. “I will. And I’ll also tell you what happened the night I called you in tears, but I guess we will need more than just wine to get through that.”

Biting my lip, I watch how he groans just before taking a bite of his food. “And… I found out who the man was.”

“I was fearing as much,” he turns his face to look at me, his eyes burning into mine, making me gulp. “How did you know who he was?”

He shifts in his seat, turning to face me. “Don’t hate me.”

I nod, and he taps his finger on the table a few times as if he were thinking about where to start his explanation. “I work with such… let’s call them recruiters… as well. They go to the family homes and buy young women from their families to have them working… Well, the streets.”

“Oh, God,” I whisper, closing my eyes.

He reaches out to take my han