[A/N: I know this one is a bit short, but another longer one will be up soon. I'm trying really hard to only swap POV on chapter swaps, but let me know if things are confusing to read and I will try and fix it. Thanks-AP]
After Jason left, my life started to deteriorate. As James put it, at least I had a job now. The oldest job, apparently.
At first, every new encounter was a fresh hell, just as excruciating as the first, but as the days turned into months, I started to grow numb, a testament to the human ability to shut down and survive. I became a shell of myself.
When James told me that he had sold me, it was not a surprise. Since Jason left, many of the gang members had warned me—run, get out, bad things happen to girls in this trade. I knew they were right, but I had nowhere to go. The night he sold me, he called me out of Jason's room, which I had claimed in his absence. I wore the white nightgown that had been purchased for me, a thin, flimsy thing that barely covered my thighs. James handed me a glass of water, a pill dissolving in the bottom of the glass, but I knew better than to ask what it was.
"Drink this," He said, roughly. "You're about to finally make us all that money I was promised." I nodded, mutely, and drank, unsure what to expect. The drink tasted acidic, and I felt woozy before finishing it. Scared, I turned to run away, but collapsed into darkness before I could even take a step.
Which brings me to just now. I wake in a room. The furniture, a chair and a bed, were wooden, but with soft curved edges. The bed has raised edges and a soft white mattress. My head is resting on a single pillow, and a grey blanket is tucked around me. I am only awake a few minutes before the only door in the room opens. A familiar man steps in, closing the door behind him.
He is tall, with strawberry blonde hair and a kind expression. He wears a worn leather jacket that I would recognize anywhere.
"Jason?" I ask, happy to see him. I get out of bed and go to hug him, but he shoves me away, hard.
"You're useless," he growls at me, moving towards me. "A waste of space, and ungrateful. How dare you take up space in my gang, my home?" His delivery is cruel and cold, how I've seen him reprimand other members, but never me.
"I… I'm sorry." I manage to get out, but he slaps me across the face. I flinch violently. "Beklager!" I cry, the pain and confusion dragging my native tongue out of me. He smirks at this, and leaves.
I don't understand what just happened. How could Jason have felt this way, when he was so nice to me? In this confusion, all of my questions about who bought me have disappeared. The only thing that matters is that I have been nothing but a burden on the only person that has ever taken care of me willingly. How could I be so awful?
Time begins to pass again. The only marking of time I have is the delivery of a liquid through a slot in the door and Jason's visits. Jason visits often, always repeating the same sentiments as before, pushing and hitting me until I respond in Norwegian. I'm afraid of him, now, because I'm waiting for him to not stop when I cry in my native tongue. When he does, I'm sure that he will kill me.
How I experience things, my personality, everything, shatters. I have returned to my shell of docility and further retreated within myself. The only time I surface is to apologize in Norwegian and to cry at what I believe to be night.
It's hard to tell.
It's hard to care.