the only way he could without offending Liv’s sensibilities with foul curses. He kicked the door. So hard he had to limp away, biting his lip at the pain. He had probably broken a few toes.
Even then, the wench yelled out loud enough for him to hear down the corridor. “See! Anger psychosis.”
Another “What was I thinking?” situation . . .
Joy had landed in the middle of some Monty Python nightmare.
She had no idea if it was someone’s idea of a joke, a warped reenactment event, a primitive society that had escaped detection like those tribes in the Amazon rain forest, or a big, bad nightmare. Or could it possibly have something to do with the Arab terrorist threat and slave trading?
With a deep sigh, she resolved that she would somehow get herself out of this mess, like all the others in her past. But for now, she was hungry and thirsty, she had to pee, and she was in a locked room with a girl who was gaping at her like she was Elvira the witch just come through the arrow hole window on her trusty broom.
She explored the room and found a pot with a lid behind a folding screen. Once she relieved herself, she washed her hands in a brass bowl of water and dried them on a piece of linen cloth. Coming out, she extended a hand to the girl on the bed, “Hi! I’m Joy Nelson.”
The girl flinched and edged away to the other side of the bed, refusing the handshake.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Liv. That is what your name is, isn’t it?”
The girl nodded.
“Honest. I would never hurt you. I do fight, but only in self-defense or to eliminate bad men.”
Liv’s blue eyes brightened. She could be pretty if cleaned up with that long, blonde, almost white hair. She had pretty facial features and a tall, slim body.
Reflecting on what she’d said that would cause the girl to brighten, she concluded, “You don’t like bad men?”
Liv nodded hesitantly.
“I heard that you won’t leave your bedroom. Is it because of all the men downstairs?”
She nodded harder now.
“Has some man hurt you?”
Liv held up one finger and shook her head in the negative. Then she held up the fingers of both hands and nodded.
Joy’s skin went cold. “Many men?”
She nodded again.
Oh, my God, no! “Rape?”
The girl groaned and nodded.
“Oh, sweetie!” Despite her resistance, Joy crawled up onto the bed with the girl and held her in her arms. At first, she squirmed and shoved at her, trying to get away, but then she relaxed in Joy’s embrace and began to weep softly.
Joy had studied about and actually worked with rape victims, both as a psychologist and a crisis center volunteer. Liv’s retreat into herself, refusing to speak, was not unusual. The scars of such an experience, especially if multiple rapes were involved, stayed with a woman forever, but there were ways of getting past the trauma. Joy could help the girl; she was sure of it.
“Liv, honey, you are not to be afraid of me. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want, but I can help you. That’s my job, what I’m trained to do. Do you understand?”
Liv nodded against her chest, then glanced up, a hopeful expression on her face, which clouded over as she looked toward the door.
“No, you don’t have to go downstairs until you’re ready.” She eased herself off the bed and took Liv with her, still holding her at her side with an arm over her shoulder, intermittently stroking her back in a soothing manner. Liv pulled against her hold, unsuccessfully, when Joy unlocked the door, but stepped only as far as the open doorway. With a yell that jolted Liv, she called out, “Igor! Get your butt up here!”
Almost instantly, Brandr was up the steps and rushing toward her, a crowd of other men behind him.
She held Liv tightly at her side. “Don’t be afraid. No one is going to touch you. I promise.”
Brandr came to a screeching halt, his eyes going wide at the sight of his sister standing next to the wench from Hel.
“Your
Even then, the wench yelled out loud enough for him to hear down the corridor. “See! Anger psychosis.”
Another “What was I thinking?” situation . . .
Joy had landed in the middle of some Monty Python nightmare.
She had no idea if it was someone’s idea of a joke, a warped reenactment event, a primitive society that had escaped detection like those tribes in the Amazon rain forest, or a big, bad nightmare. Or could it possibly have something to do with the Arab terrorist threat and slave trading?
With a deep sigh, she resolved that she would somehow get herself out of this mess, like all the others in her past. But for now, she was hungry and thirsty, she had to pee, and she was in a locked room with a girl who was gaping at her like she was Elvira the witch just come through the arrow hole window on her trusty broom.
She explored the room and found a pot with a lid behind a folding screen. Once she relieved herself, she washed her hands in a brass bowl of water and dried them on a piece of linen cloth. Coming out, she extended a hand to the girl on the bed, “Hi! I’m Joy Nelson.”
The girl flinched and edged away to the other side of the bed, refusing the handshake.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Liv. That is what your name is, isn’t it?”
The girl nodded.
“Honest. I would never hurt you. I do fight, but only in self-defense or to eliminate bad men.”
Liv’s blue eyes brightened. She could be pretty if cleaned up with that long, blonde, almost white hair. She had pretty facial features and a tall, slim body.
Reflecting on what she’d said that would cause the girl to brighten, she concluded, “You don’t like bad men?”
Liv nodded hesitantly.
“I heard that you won’t leave your bedroom. Is it because of all the men downstairs?”
She nodded harder now.
“Has some man hurt you?”
Liv held up one finger and shook her head in the negative. Then she held up the fingers of both hands and nodded.
Joy’s skin went cold. “Many men?”
She nodded again.
Oh, my God, no! “Rape?”
The girl groaned and nodded.
“Oh, sweetie!” Despite her resistance, Joy crawled up onto the bed with the girl and held her in her arms. At first, she squirmed and shoved at her, trying to get away, but then she relaxed in Joy’s embrace and began to weep softly.
Joy had studied about and actually worked with rape victims, both as a psychologist and a crisis center volunteer. Liv’s retreat into herself, refusing to speak, was not unusual. The scars of such an experience, especially if multiple rapes were involved, stayed with a woman forever, but there were ways of getting past the trauma. Joy could help the girl; she was sure of it.
“Liv, honey, you are not to be afraid of me. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want, but I can help you. That’s my job, what I’m trained to do. Do you understand?”
Liv nodded against her chest, then glanced up, a hopeful expression on her face, which clouded over as she looked toward the door.
“No, you don’t have to go downstairs until you’re ready.” She eased herself off the bed and took Liv with her, still holding her at her side with an arm over her shoulder, intermittently stroking her back in a soothing manner. Liv pulled against her hold, unsuccessfully, when Joy unlocked the door, but stepped only as far as the open doorway. With a yell that jolted Liv, she called out, “Igor! Get your butt up here!”
Almost instantly, Brandr was up the steps and rushing toward her, a crowd of other men behind him.
She held Liv tightly at her side. “Don’t be afraid. No one is going to touch you. I promise.”
Brandr came to a screeching halt, his eyes going wide at the sight of his sister standing next to the wench from Hel.
“Your
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