God and Monsters

Chapter 25

"Can I take you somewhere?" Lisa asks. I've just stepped out of the bathroom from my shower, yanking a brush through my wet, tangled hair. I tear the bristles through a particularly brutal knot, uncaring of the way the strands tear.

"Baby, you're hurting your hair. Let me brush it."

Feeling defeated, I slump my shoulders, trudge over to her, and sit on the floor between her spread knees.
She takes the brush from me and gently starts running it through the sopping tresses, slowly detangling the mop on my head. It feels nice, but I'm too tired to appreciate it.

Another two weeks have passed, and it's a constant up and down battle. Turns out, one of the men did give me chlamydia, and it only cemented that feeling of filth ingrained deep in my bones. I cried, confessed my diagnosis to Lisa, and then cried even harder when she was nothing but supportive. It's been treated, but that lingering repulsion lingers, sinking its claws deep into my membrane. She's probably used every word in the English language to assure me that I'm not disgusting or that she doesn't see me differently, but it didn't change how I viewed myself. Lisa was right. Happiness is fleeting, however, over the past weeks, she's done everything in her power to help me hold on to any semblance of peace. Finishing with the brush, she sets it down on the bed and gathers my hair together. I nearly choke when she begins braiding it.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that? I've never seen you wearing a braid" I ask. I'm tempted to twist around like a dog chasing its tail, just so I can witness this.

"Ruby taught me," she answers quietly. "There was a young girl that I rescued a few years ago, and she wouldn't let anyone else touch her but me at first. She loved braids in her hair, so I learned how to do them for her. Got pretty fucking good at it, too."

My lip trembles, and I'm forced to suck it between my teeth to keep the sob in. Bastard. Just when I think I can't fall in love with her any more than I already have, she goes and does this shit. There's no denying that she's going to be a great mother one day, and though the thought scares me, I don't want anyone else but me to have the privilege of seeing it happen.

"Oh," I whisper.

"Let me see your wrist band," she says. I raise my arm, and she drags it off my hand and ties off the braid.

"Thank you," I murmur, standing and turning to face her. I'm in a weird internal war where I want to crawl onto her lap, but the thought of actually doing it makes me break out into hives. "Where did you want to take me?"

"I want to show you something-someone, too. But I thought maybe seeing this would... help you."

My brows pinch, but I nod, curious about what she thinks could possibly help me. As far as I'm concerned, I'm a lost cause. Hopeless. Helpless. And all the synonyms for those words, too.

During the forty-five-minute drive, Lisa tells me all about how she got suspended in high school and almost didn't graduate. It was a senior prank -she glitter-bombed the entire school, and they had to spend the rest of the year surrounded by pink sparkles. One of these days, I'm going to have to make her show me pictures of her younger self. She says she's always had heterochromia, and I can only imagine how much the ladies loved that.

Eventually, we pull up to a massive gate with several armed guards standing outside. As soon as they spot Lisa's car, they let her through without hesitation.
We drive down a long dirt driveway that leads to what appears to be a mini village. There's a massive, long building in the center with several smaller one's surrounding it. There's also an enormous greenhouse, which is where most of the activity is. People are milling about, carrying baskets of fruits and vegetables. A group of girls walk together, giggling and whispering to one another as they make their way towards one of the smaller buildings. All of them are kids or women that I can see.