Ezra
Just like they weren't in illegal whore houses in Aradonna, a voice in my head tried to guilt me.
It worked.
I crouched down carefully at her side, her slight frame and tangled hair reminding me far too much of a malnourished Nea that was painful to recall.
The more my eyes scanned over her, the greater my anger grew.
She lay on her side, facing the wall as she huddled close to it. The filthy and torn clothes she wore were damp, telling me she had been lying there for a while, maybe through a recent rainfall. As my eyes continued to scan her, taking in the rest of her condition, my fists clenched tight as my anger neared volatile levels.
Her dirt-streaked pants had been pulled down around her knees. A hint of dull colour in the folds of black denim told me her underwear too. Her bare thighs were streaked with blood and the male release I had scented. There were traces in her hair and scattered across the rest of her torn clothing.
The only thing that kept me from seeing Nea's face when I reached down and pulled the girl back to lie on her back was the lighter colour of her hair and the absence of the curls I had come to adore. Though I couldn't really say for sure considering it was a matted mess.
She jolted at my touch, reaching for the brick wall in front of her. She clawed at it for escape, making me pull back and show my hands in an attempt to calm her.
It didn't work. She continued to claw at the hard surface, hurting herself as slurred pleas escaped her chapped lips.
I frowned when the scent of fresh blood tainted the air. But there was too much for it to only come from her nails that broke as she scratched at the wall.
"Please, please....p-please," she repeated as she tried to escape into the wall.
"Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm trying to help."
Her pleading seemed to grow more desperate at my reassurance.
I tried to reach out for her to catch her attention but she refused to listen to my words. I needed to get her to understand that she was now safe.
It was a mistake.
She jerked at my touch, curling into a tight ball and covering her head while shielding her torso with her elbows. I found it concerning how swiftly she had assumed the position, knowing where to place her limbs to optimize protection. But what was by far the most concerning, was the glint of sliver that had caught the light when she had moved.
Embedded in her side was a small blade, only the handle visible. Her movement had caused it to shift, releasing fresh streaks of crimson that soaked into the fabric of her dark clothing.
"Stop moving." My voice had taken on a firmer tone as I started looking closer at the clammy texture of her skin and faint tremors that shook her body. Her serious condition became clearer the more I looked.
She didn't listen. Instead of stopping, she tried her best to pull her pants up while keeping her vitals shielded, releasing more blood when the knife shifted once again. If she felt the pain, she didn't show it.
But then again, she shook so bad I could have missed it if she did.
I crouched down in front of her, cautious to keep my movements slow to keep from provoking her into doing anything to further the damage that had already been done to her body.
Her mumbled pleads grew louder. It could have been considered a silent blessing. If she didn't have her own voice to drown out the faint sound that reached my ear, who knew what she would have done to try to get away when she realized what it meant.
