Breaking Mr. Black

15| An Enigma

ROSE

The summer sun beat down on my eyelids as I tried squinting against it to see the building we were parked in front of. This was the one place I thought I would never see, the one place I thought I'd avoid like the plague. My therapists knew little of what happened to me in this building but I never went into great detail. There were too many things holding me back from opening up like what if they only cared because they were being paid to. What if they were scarred by the events — not as tormented as me but hearing something like this could change someone's life.

I pulled down the visor to block out the sweltering sun. Sean sat patiently next to me in the driver's seat. He was waiting for me to break the silence that settled between us. It wasn't uncomfortable silence, but the silence wasn't comfortable either. It was just there like a thin layer of ice that only needed the smallest amount of heat to melt away. I didn't know at which point I should begin in telling my story. When I had never said the words aloud before — to anyone, why was I so willing to tell him?

Drawing in a deep breath, my eyes shifted to the street corner in front of us where a teenage girl sat. She was all bones, ratty hair, skimpy clothing. Nudging at Sean's arm, I nodded toward the girl, "Do you know why she's standing there?" I quizzed, my voice sounding hoarse due to my crying.

Sean bobbed his head slowly, "I have a pretty good idea. This isn't the safest part of town," and that he had right so probably parked out here in a fancy car with blacked-out windows wasn't such a good idea.

I'd have to make this quick.

Why the hell did that sound like I was talking about something completely different altogether?

Shaking my head to rid myself of my thoughts before I got too carried away, I said, "At the age of six I moved around a lot. One foster home after another. Eventually, I ended up in this building," I jutted my chin toward the dilapidated building with moss and graffiti staining the walls. The building was in a worse-off condition than I had left it all those years ago. It had been so long and yet I could still remember what the inside of that place smelt like. The stench was embedded in my memory, "I lived with a couple. They weren't the ideal foster parents but it was okay for a while. There was a girl already staying with them at the time so their attention wasn't on me."

"What happened to the girl? I heard of the day they found you. You were the only child they had," Sean mused, looking at the building with disgust clear on his face.

"She ran away," I shrugged, focusing on the kid sitting at the street corner again, "she ran away because she had enough, and living on the streets sounded ten times better than living in this Hell."

Only when Sean used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the fat tear that rolled down my cheek did I realize I was crying again. His brows dipped in the center and concern engraved itself into his features, "What did they do to you, Rose?"

I gulped as the memories came rushing back. That box I had kept sealed for so long was now opened and there was no closing it again, "When she left, the man's attention slowly drifted to me. I was too young to work a corner. It was too risky, so he kept me to himself," I turned my head, looking out the window to the clear blue sky above, "for his personal benefit."

"He touched you?" I could hear Sean's molars grating against each other.

Screwing my eyes shut, an image lingered at the forefront of my mind, "I was seven. It was my birthday, the first birthday I spent with them. The day went fine. They ignored me. The woman sat with her bottle of brandy and watched t.v. all day and her husband left to do God only knows what. That evening, he came home. He was pissed off. It was late so I was already in my room..." My voice cracked and I fisted my hands when I felt the horrid man's phantom touch. I could never forget.