Safe & Sound

1

Amena jerked awake as light streamed into her room.

"Wake up, girl," her father croaked, hacking loudly around his cigarette that he immediately put between his lips after he spoke. "Make me breakfast."

He pushed the door all the way open until it slammed against the wall. Amena flinched, scrambling to her feet.

Her father disappeared back up the steps, and she quickly folded the blankets she had been sleeping on so they were in a neat pile.

She followed him up the basement steps and into the kitchen. She could hear the shower running, and she knew she only had a few minutes before he was done. She wanted to be out of his way before then.

She scrambled some eggs and made toast, laying the food presentably onto the plate.

She waited by the dining room table until her father came in. He was dressed for work. He looked displeased at his plate, and Amena's heart began to thump violently in her chest. She squeezed her fists tightly together.

"I want the house to be spotless when I get back," he told her. "You know the rules."

Of course she knew the rules. How many beatings had she taken before she had learned her lesson?

No food. No going outside. No talking to anyone. The list went on and on and on.

She had to eat, though. Her father knew that, and she had gotten by with eating anything that wouldn't be missed by him. It was usually a slice of bread or something in the pantry, even a few scraps from dinner.

The house was a mess. She cleaned almost everyday except the weekend, and Mondays were always the worst. There were bottles and ash all over the living room. It smelled horrific, so did his bedroom. It took her hours to get it just decent enough.

She also showered and washed the one set of pajamas she had, as well as her one t-shirt and jeans that she wore daily.

Amena had created a good routine over the years and had her system down to a science. Most days she had the afternoon free to do whatever she pleased in the house. Usually, it was reading a book or drawing a picture. She wasn't allowed to watch the television.

Her father liked dinner to be ready for him as soon as he walked in the door from work, and that was the last task she had for the evening.

She cleaned up the kitchen, putting the last few items away as the front door opened.

Her father took a seat at the table, and she moved to go back to the basement. 

"Stay put," he demanded. "I have guests coming this evening."

She froze, feeling the fear run along her spine. Guests? They never had guests.

"I don't need you to do anything," he said. "except stay in the kitchen until you're called."

She did as she was told, staying put as he ate his dinner. There was a knock on the door. For some reason, her father looked quite nervous.

She stayed in the kitchen patiently. She could hear three distinct voices, all male and booming. She squeezed her shaking hands together, clasping them so they stilled. She couldn't make out what they were talking about and she didn't care. She didn't want her presence to be known. Anytime she was near a man, she got hurt.

"Come here, Amena," her father called.

Amena went to the living room. The three men were huge, even towering over her father. They wore dark clothing and had tattoos and scars. The man in the middle was captivating in the strangest way. Their was an air of dominance, one that commanded her attention. She hated the feeling.

She moved her focus back to her father who she realized was shaking.

"This is my daughter," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. She jerked immediately, but his fingers dug painfully into her skin. "You can have her as a payment for my debt."

What?

Amena tried desperately to pull at her father's grasp, but he did not let up.

"I don't buy or trade girls," the middle man growled to her father. "She did nothing to acquire the debt. That was you, Stan."

Amena had no idea what was going on. Debt? She didn't know of any debt that they had. Who were these guys?

"Besides," the man continued. "You signed a contract. You work for my company now until I deem what you owe me to be paid off."

Her father stammered a bit, finally easing his tight grip on her shoulder.

"Xavier will be transporting you to the facilities you will be staying at." The man in the middle stepped back allowing the man on the right to step forward.

"No," Stan said. His voice rose to a frantic shout. "You can't make me do anything."

Xavier sneered, reaching for her father who lashed out. One of her father's flying fists struck her by mistake. Her eyes watered from the strike.

Stan was no match for Xavier who finally got her father's arms behind his back, leading him out of the house and to their car. The man on the left followed Xavier out.

That left Amena and the middle man, the one who had captivated her attention.

"Move your hand away," he told her.

He moved closer, inspecting her cheek. He didn't touch her. She felt weird, like she wasn't feeling what she was supposed to. She should've been scared out of her mind, but she wasn't. She was afraid, hesitant, but nothing that was atypical.

There was also immediate relief. For whatever reason and for however long, her father was gone.

"It's going to bruise. That will be the worst of it."

He straightened his broad shoulders. She had to look up at him.

"Amena, right?"

She nodded.

"My name is Cyfrin."

Cyfrin paused before continuing.

"Pack your things. You're coming with me."

Amena froze, squeezing her fists once again. "What?" she whispered.

"Do you have a job?" he asked her.

She shook her head no.

"I won't leave you here alone."

"I'm okay," she insisted quietly. "I'm an adult. I can decide for myself."

Cyfrin leaned forward. She took a faltering step back.

"Amena, your father owes me a lot of money, and he signed this house over as collateral. The house belongs to me now. I won't put you out onto the street."

She didn't want to be homeless. She had no money, or any experience in the real world. What other choice did she have?