The Goodbye Man (11 page)

Through bloodshed and pain, the man with no name gives me hope once again.

Through the confines
of fear, I have stayed locked inside of my head, raped, torn apart, sick, and waiting to die. I was simply surviving, but now I am on the brink of insanity. Time means nothing. Who am I kidding, my fucking existence means shit to the world. I am nothing more than a flea in the grand scheme of things. Still, rationality pulls me from limbo as my heavy lids open to the flickering fluorescence that I remember. The buzzing hurts my head and the sensation from my mouth is still very present. I thought I had felt pain before, remembering moments throughout my life that I wished I could forget, but that was nothing before now. Days, or weeks may have passed since I was taken by the Russians in that fucking disgusting place. Tears, they fall. I let them as they burn the scratches and cuts on my face. The overwhelming aching sensation that I have between my legs is too much. I want to cry out, but the scream that my body is having is silent. It’s monstrous in my head as I think back to the moments that brought me to a reality that confuses me. I want to die, feeling the sticky, burning sensation on my cunt. The orange flames flash before my mind and I am certain that I can feel it all over again. I am being thrown into a tunnel of irrationality and fear as my heart shreds itself from the empathy and hope that I used to have. Every surface of my skin cries out in discomfort. I beg for a grave, even a goddamn metal dumpster. Please, God. Not this. Remembering a life so gruesome and feeling this pain is too much. My ass feels like it has ripped straight into my vagina. How fucked up am I? Why live when I am of no use now? I need to stop feeling! Stop this madness! Make it all stop!

Feeling is not something that I am familiar with, but one that I am not accustomed to is tugging around in my belly as I talk my way off the ledge of losing my mind. The pain is daunting, too much, but a sensation that I can’t trust is tugging me further, harder.

Safety.

I look down at my wrists through dizzy eyes as the tightening of the cloth straps rubs on my skin. I don’t try to get away. If they wanted me dead, I would be gone. Instead, I feel better. I turn my head to the side to see the same woman from before holding a clipboard as she stares at the beeping monitor. I’m all for being unnoticed, but my bladder burns and feels like it is about to bust and I can’t bring myself to piss the bed. I clear my throat and even that hurts.

Her calming eyes meet mine and I sink down into the comfortable mattress, realizing it has been years since I have lain on top of a real bed. Surely this can’t be real. I gulp hard, wondering what I should say. I furrow my brows and take a sharp intake of breath into my lungs. Breathing is easier now, but still painful. Why, though? No one cares about me. Saving me means nothing for the world other than taking up wasted space. Overthinking the situation makes me want to pass back out into an abyss of blackened thoughts. I liked it better there because I didn’t have to search for answers.

I’ve never had to get answers. I never even had to question life itself because I always knew my place. No one ever made me feel important or worthy of breathing for that matter. None of this makes sense.

“Oh, Miss Svetlana,” the Polish woman whispers, taking careful steps over to my side like I am some sort of breakable doll. “You okay. I take good care of you.”

I want to reply, but I can’t bring myself to. My bladder screams out in pain and I bite my lip.

“You hurt somewhere? Tell me, I fix it.”

Her broken English reminds me of my mother. I shake my head no, convinced I can just hold it and deal with the pain. But I look back down at my restrained wrists and think that pissing the bed may just have to happen. I scrunch my eyes harder, wondering how I relieved myself before now. I don’t remember much except the tan skinned man who told me we could play dead dolly, but I think that was a dream. Men don’t treat me well in real life.

“You need to talk to me, Svetlana. I Dr. Bajek. I help you, not hurt you.”

She seems genuine. I want to believe her, but kind people don’t exist. I haven’t met one yet. Except him, the man with no name whose eyes held a softness that I would never forget. The place between my thighs that I thought was damaged forever throbs to life. I am all sorts of fucked up, letting myself become affected by someone that I don’t know as I am enveloped by pain. I take a deep breath.

“I have to pee and I hurt everywhere.”

“No, no, Svetlana. Your body think it does. That is a normal body response when you wake up. You have a catheter in, draining your urine. But since you up, I take it out.”

My eyes grow wide as I realize that I have been pissing in a bag for God knows how long. I nod, embarrassed, and for the first time I feel truly alone. I have always been isolated, but something seems different now. When people care for those that are fucked by the world’s ways, it hurts more than being beaten. I want to cry at the doctor’s kindness as she drapes a privacy sheet over my legs, explaining what is going to happen.

“Take this first,” Dr. Bajek says, giving me a sip of water.

The cooling liquid is delightful down my dry throat and I find myself wanting to smile, but I won’t.

“Now, take this. It help with your pain, Svetlana,” Dr. Bajek says, placing a white tablet on my tongue.

I accept it, willing to defer this discomfort.

“We wait and let pain medicine kick in before I take the catheter out.”

I lie back onto the pillow, letting the effects of the medication start. The pain starts to become bearable and I relax further, still confused about why my restrained wrists don’t bother me.

“Take a deep breath, Svetlana. I pull this out now.”

I take a deep breath out and she slides the tube out. A rush of warmth follows and I want to cry from the burning skin and memories. What have I endured and why must I be here now?

“I undo you now, okay? I help you clean up now. You be on antibiotics for a little bit to prevent an infection in your bladder. You take it when you eat after you wake up more. After I get you up, someone wants to see you.”

Undo me.

Remembrances of the man that questioned my abuse flood my brain as I hear him annunciate c-u-n-t perfectly. I pray to the heavens above, if they even fucking exist, that he is here. Something in my heart tells me he is. Dr. Bajek removes the cloth restraints from both my wrists, taking a second to massage both sides and check my pulses. I look at my skin and I am grateful that no marks are there. Again, tenderness is shown to me. Compassion that I am certain I do not deserve because I wasn’t born for it. She gives me a sponge bath, taking precaution to clean me between my legs. The pain medication has lessened the sensitivity and I take note that I feel the warm, wetness of the wash cloth between my legs and relief overtakes my already battered mind. But why? Again, it makes no sense. Sex has never been enjoyable for me, with the exception of Juan as he ate my fucked up pussy while I watched the man in the doorway. Then, my dream flashes before my eyes of an olive skinned man, sucking on my breast and speaking in the most delectable Spanish accent. Normal girls don’t think like this. Not at all.

I shake my head at myself. After Dr. Bajek dresses me in a fresh gown, my heart rate increases. Minutes closer to seeing the person that wants to see me. Who could it be?
Him?
Maybe he wants to keep me as his. I could only wish.

“Svetlana, we need to talk first.”

My eyes meet hers and the safety that I don’t want to embrace pulls me in, wrapping me in with utter gentleness. I hate feeling. I want to hang my head and cry. Being fed to the wolves was better than this. This is too fucking much. I drop my eyes because that is what submissive, undeserving girls like me do, but her easy hand makes its way to my chin, bringing it back up to meet her gaze.

“You safe. You not be in any harm anymore. You different than the rest. Caesar protect you.”

I nod my head yes, wishing for answers for the millions of questions rushing through my head at full force. His name swirls about in my mind in the most delicious way.
Caesar.
I open my mouth as courage almost finds me, but close it. I offer her another nod as I clasp my hands anxiously in my lap. Dr. Bajek pulls the sheet and comforter up to my chest and places a swift kiss on my forehead. I want to push her away, but I remain still like the conditioned girl that I am.

“I go get boss man.”

It’s him. It has to be him. My heart knows.

Undo me.

I feel my pulse beating
rapidly in my neck. I’ve never wanted to disappear more before. The feeling of not being enough overtakes me. Expectations are the root of all evil. I never meet them. I am sure he has a list a mile long, most of which I will not be able to meet. Millions of things buzz around my brain as I start sweating, staring at the lights that make me nervous. The sound of the humming lights makes my head ache and I have the urge to flee. But if I run, I will die. Isn’t that what I wanted before now? Death is what we are all born for. After birth, we start preparing for death.

I hear the clinks of heavy boots echoing in the distance.

Undo me. Make me feel. Bring me to safety and love me like no one has before.

A faint whimper erupts from my lips. I cover my mouth with my hand, not able to control my body while pain still lingers. This is a first. I have always been able to withhold the urge to make noises and control what my body does and doesn’t do, but that control is leaving me with each passing second. I hear
him
grumble as his footsteps pound harder on the concrete floor.

Mr. Dark and Dangerous makes his way over to me and my lips part. I can’t gather appropriate thoughts as I drink every part of him in. He is ruggedly handsome and makes me feel
alive
and
safe
without reason. His coal black hair has speckles of grey in it, messy to perfection and sweat mists his tanned face. Stubble covers his chin and I want to reach out and touch it to pull him into me, but I relent as my eyes continue to fixate on every part of him. I am enamored, stuck, and already addicted.

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and I sigh out loud, panting like a crazed woman who is in heat. He turns his head pensively, flaring his nostrils and clenching his large hands at his sides. He furrows his brows and I want to cower and shield myself for what I am certain I deserve, but selfishness invades my being. I am transforming into someone else. Maybe death did find me. Maybe part of the old me did perish while a new part of me was birthed.

Like me, his lips move to speak, but no words come out. Something tells me if he wanted to hurt me, he would have already done it. I decide that I need to know why I was whisked away by him. I have to know who he is. Caesar, the man who swooped in and saved me.

My shaky, nervous hands peel the sheet away from my body. His stance is intimidating, but I am not scared. This is a first for me. Feeling safe, even I don’t understand what it means. I am unharmed as long as I am near him. Something in my bones screams that to me, washing the dysfunction from all my yesterdays away. He’s too far away from me. I need him nearer. I need to know that he is real.

I swing my legs over to the side of the bed and plant them onto the cold ground. The chilly floors send a shock of cold through my body and I welcome it, as it reminds me that I am alive before a man that I have wanted since I first saw him. I push the aching from my body out of my mind, appreciating the pain medicine from Dr. Bajek, and I push myself up and I can feel him watching me closely, not in a prey-like manner, but in a way that says he would catch me if I fell. As soon as I stand up, my head gets dizzy. I scream to myself in my head to be strong. I have been through enough, I can deal with this. Walking is a piece of cake in comparison to everything else that I have been through.

I turn on wobbly heels as our stares meet. His eyes seem like they were meant for me. Coldness gone and replaced with warmth. Hatred absent and traded for decency. Loathing gone and swapped for kindness. All emotions that I am not used to. I find myself willing to do whatever I can to get them. I close my eyes and allow myself to do the one thing that I have dreamt of.

Smile.

I smile for many reasons; life, death, rebirth, and a man before me who has changed me without words. Something inside of me is meant for him. I am
his
and he is
mine.
I open my stare to look at him through lust-drunk eyes. His hard look is changed. He seems tortured. From what, I’m not sure. My belly turns in chaos as I search for truths in his eyes.

Courage. I have come this far. I can’t remain torn. I need to know who this man is and why he saved me. I feel a chill run over my bare shoulder as the gown drops from my body, exposing part of my breast. He growls. Growls like a fucking dog. I want him to pounce on me. I wish he would claim me and make me his.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

He charges over to me, letting go of whatever it was that was holding him back. An explosion of need erupts thickly in the air. My nails dig into the palms of my hands, making me aware that this is not a dream. This is real, so real. His strides turn into slow motion as I sing silent hallelujahs to God above. Years of isolation are forgotten as the broken, impoverished girl becomes addicted to the man who redeemed her from the fires of hell on Earth.

His rough, calloused hands cup my cheeks and it takes everything that I have not to melt into a puddle of nothing.

“Hello, little one,” his deep voice says.

His eyes stay dark, so dark, like there is a storm brewing behind them. My heart is nearing its teeming point as every sensation I thought I lost in the fire is magnified by a million. I am definitely not dead. I am very much alive.

“Undo me. Please. Save me,” my thoughts betray me as they roll off my tongue.

I want to find a corner, crawl into a ball, and hang my head in shame. A wicked grin splays on his face, but I sense something holding him back.

“I have waited for you for a long time, mi amor. Hello is all I can say right now.”

Confusion thunders through my chest as letdown settles in my gut. He leans his delectable lips to my forehead while I wish he was kissing other parts of me, all of me for that matter. Though his hands are rough, his lips are soft. As soon as I felt comforted by someone, I will soon be left again as my cheeks feel cold from the absence of his touch.

“Are you not even going to say goodbye?” I murmur, fidgeting with my nervous hands.

“Oh, mi amor, you have no idea. Goodbyes are all that I have said.”

I watch him walk towards the door as my heart shatters with letdown. I was rejected. No answers were provided while I played the role of desperate whore once again. Perhaps reclamation isn’t in the cards for me. I will forever be branded and unwanted. I am Svetlana, alone, damaged, and already addicted to a man that I don’t know.

Hello, crazy.

Goodbye, redemption.