My hair reeks of fish and perfume. The smell won’t come out, and there’s no point in trying. I’ll be right back here tomorrow, caught beneath the trap of a straw mattress and the flesh of a man.
With my head turned to the right, I can see the harbor through The Solitude’s speckle-stained window. The bed shifts, and straw crackles in a dry threat to poke through the wool sheets. A hairy arm blocks my view for a moment, but I keep looking, keep trying to see those floating ships, even when a metallic click sounds as the man drops a coin on the bedside table. “For you, pretty. I’ll tell Zakir West what a good girl you’ve been.”
A spot on my back pinches, the skin jumping right between my shoulder blades. I don’t reach around to try and scratch at it though. I don’t reply to him either. But my lips press into a thin line until he has the decency to stop blocking my view.
I hear him shuffle into his pants and shirt, all while my hair keeps tickling my nose where it’s shoved between my cheek and the pillow. Fish and perfume come in with every inhale, so strong I can taste it.
He says something by way of a goodbye, but I don’t hear what it is. I don’t care. When I’m finally alone, the prickling on my back ceases, and I drag myself off the bed to pull on my dress.
It’s a deep green color that reminds me of the moss that blanketed the rocks at the lagoon in Annwyn that I once snuck off to. It reminds me of the summer grass on the hills where my mother’s horses grazed. It reminds me of the trees that stretched to the sky down the streets on Bryol.
It reminds me of home.
A tear slips down my cheek as I pull on my stockings and mud-caked boots. I walk over to the window and brace my hands on the rough wood of the sill just as the door behind me opens.
“Time to go. Got another renter for the night.”
I turn to look at the buxom innkeeper as she goes straight over to the bed and starts to strip the sheets.
“Do you want help?”
Natia looks up at me from beneath a bun of thick black hair peppered with silver strands. She’s a blunt woman, tells you her mind with a quick jab and no remorse, but has smile lines in the creases of her ochre face. “No, girl, this is my inn, and I see to it. Besides, you don’t look like you know how to make up a proper bed.”
I give her a shaky smile. “You’re right,” I say. I don’t tell her that it’s because I don’t have one.
As she yanks up the sheets on the other side, Natia nods at the table. “There’s a token there for you. Take it.”
The skin at my back flinches, feeling tight. I don’t even want to look at the money. “You keep it. I’m sorry the beds are always such a mess.” My cheeks burn as I say it, and I’m forced to glance away.
Six weeks. It’s been six weeks of coming here to The Solitude every day to meet whatever person Zakir sends. I never thought I’d actually miss begging on the streets. I never thought I’d miss being made to pickpocket all night from drunks and thieves, even when it meant I was caught and roughed up sometimes.
Can a person break in six weeks?
It feels like I am. It feels like I might be tearing at the seams, like a rag doll handled one too many times.
Maybe that’s why my back keeps quivering, my skin constantly going tight with pinches and prods. Maybe it’s because that’s where my cracks are going to start to show.
It would be fitting, wouldn’t it? For me to fracture down my back. Ironic, seeing as how I’ve bowed in submission at Zakir’s feet.
I startle when Natia suddenly comes up to my side and grabs my hand, shoving the coin into my palm before giving it a squeeze. “Now you listen here, girl,” she says sternly. “I’ve seen that look a thousand times.”
“What look?”
“That look of giving up.” Her fingers dig into my hand, the coin kept between us like a secret. “I’ve been around long enough to see it. You’re not the first of Zakir’s girls to use a room here.”
If I thought my cheeks burned before, it’s nothing to how hot my face feels now.
She nods toward the window. “You’re always looking out at those ships, but I can tell you never think you’ll be on one.”
I blink in surprise that she noticed something like that. I’ve only seen her for a couple minutes every time…after.
“Well, I won’t, will I?” I reply, tone tainted with bitterness.
“Why not?” she challenges.
I’m filled with new irritation at her question, and I pull my hand from her grasp, slamming the coin down on the sill. “What do you mean, why not? Zakir would never let me leave, and you know what happens to stowaways.”