I am Aveline. I have no voice, but inside my head I was screaming.
I stood in the warm light of the Saracen house with my own blood drying on my chin.
Alba: Come inside, piccola. The rain is getting into the hall.
Alba: Sit down. Let me see your face.
Alba: This is going to sting. Do you want to hold my hand?
Nobody had ever asked me that before, so I shook my head and dug my fingers into my pad.
The cloth came away red. She cleaned my lip and the cut split open again, and the sting shot up into my eyes.
I jerked back so hard that I knocked the bowl and water went everywhere.
Her fingers pressed hard into my jaw to keep me still, and my whole body went cold and quiet.
Casper held me like that right before he hit me.
His voice was still in my head, saying what he always said right against my ear.
You dumb mute bitch, nobody wants you. You're a debt with legs.
He was not here, but I could smell the beer on him anyway.
Alba: Look at me. Not at the wall. At me.
I looked, and her eyes were wet, and she was not raising her hand.
Alba: I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to clean this and then I'm going to feed you.
She turned my wrist over. The rope had left red rings, and Tobias's silver rings had left little half moons of dried blood.
Alba: Fuck. That fucking animal.
Mattia was in the door with his jacket still wet from the rain.
Mattia: Say that again, Ma.
Alba: Look at her wrists. Look at what that piece of shit did to her.
His face changed. I had seen men get angry before, and I knew what came after anger.
Mattia: If Casper or Tobias come near this house, I'll break their fucking hands. Then I'll break their necks.
I believed him. That was the worst part. I believed every word, and I knew that kind of talk always came back on me.
It always did.
I picked up my pad and wrote with a shaking hand. What do you want from me?
I turned it around so they could read it.
Mattia: Nothing.
Alba: Not one thing, baby. Not one thing.
I did not believe them, so I wrote the rest of it.
I can work. I'm quiet. I don't eat much. I'll sleep anywhere.
Alba: Oh, my heart.
She turned her face away and her shoulders shook once, and I knew I had done something wrong.
Alba: You did nothing wrong. Nothing. Do you hear me?
Alba: Come on. I made a room up before you got here.
I followed her up the stairs and counted the doors, because I always count the doors.
The bed had a thick quilt and a lamp with soft yellow light. There was a jug of water and a clean towel on the chair.
I stood in the doorway and did not go in, because things like this were not for me.
Alba: It's yours. The bathroom is across the hall, and there's a lock on the door.
Alba: You can lock it. I won't be offended.
A lock. She said it like it was nothing, like a lock was a thing people just had.
I waited for the catch. There is always a catch.
Casper gave me a blanket once, then took it back the same night and laughed while I shook.
I wrote one more question on my pad and held it up. Why are you being kind to me?
Alba: Because you're hurt and you're hungry, and I have a warm house.
Alba: That's all the reason I need.
Alba: You can stay, Aveline. Not for one night. Stay.
She said my name soft, like it was worth saying out loud.
Alba: I'll be down the hall. Bang on the wall if you need me. I'll hear it.
She pulled the door shut, and I listened to her footsteps go soft down the hall.
I sat on the floor with my back against the bed and my pad on my knees.
I did not cry. Crying was for people who got to be sad out loud.
The quilt was heavy and warm when I finally climbed under it, and the pillow smelled like soap.
Nobody came in the night. Nobody hit me. Nobody took it back.
I wrote one line in the dark and looked at it for a long time.
Kindness always has a price, and I had no money to pay it.
But the room stayed warm until morning, and in the morning I would find out if it was real.