Arranged to Him

Home away from home

Anaya POV:

Time passed quickly as I adjusted to life in the shelter. It was weeks after finding out James had used me from day one, and my anger hadn't abated at all. The shelter I stayed at was small and cramped, but I bunked with a woman named Kelcy and her two kids, and she had taken me under her wing, mentoring me. I knew who to stay away from and what the process was, and I was learning valuable life skills helping her run the soup kitchen.

Kelcy wasn't your average homeless person; she went out of her way to take care of the people who came to get help and was genuine in a way few of the people that James delt with were.

"Do not touch that pot, Jackline!" She yelled while making a giant container of soup with spoiled veggies that couldn't be served anymore. Her three-year-old daughter pouted but sat back down on the stool, playing a video game on her mom's cracked phone.

"I swear, these kids keep me on my toes. Two more months before she's in school also, though!" She bragged, excited at the idea of having time just for herself.

"How old are you anyway? You look young to have two kids." I asked curiously while chopping what had to be my millionth carrot for her.

"Nineteen. I had my first one at fourteen, second at sixteen, third at eighteen. My last one had a heart defect, so it passed away at a few months old." She explained casually as if this was all totally normal. I tried to hide my shock, but she smiled knowingly.

"Yes, I know I was young, but you haven't seen their father. He was BAD. Thug life, for sure, but he goes hard. If he asked for another baby, I would say let's go! He's in jail, though, for dealing. He'll be out before I know it. Then I will kiss this place goodbye! I will still come by to help, though." She said with a laugh, brushing her thick, curly hair out of her face.

"What about you? Any kids? I don't judge if you lose them to the system or anything." She asked, adding in an insane amount of spices that would leave everyone filled with warmth and wanting more. Desperately.

"None. I'm married, but my husband is a jerk and was going to trade me to some rich guy." I explained, remembering the dough we were making still needed to be formed into balls for the rolls and starting that since everything was chopped. Kelcy stopped stirring her massive pot of soup, stunned.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE THEN. I mean, if he's rich... cash out, baby. Go to his house, steal some stuff, and get yourself a house. You're a crazy girl, but I respect you. Standing on business." She said, shaking her head as if I was the weird one.

"I'm not going to sell my body," I said staunchly, diving the dough quickly into cute little balls and tossing them in the pan. Kelcy smirked.

"Men are gonna ask for your body either way. You might as well cash out. I would in a heartbeat, but no one to watch the baby." She explained almost enviously.

She had a point. Coming from a culture that emphasized purity outside of marriage, though, willingly giving my body for cash seemed outrageous.

Kelcy already knew every homeless person's name and story and served them with a smile when it was time for dinner, talking to them without fear in the world. I was quiet and smiled softly at each person, but I was too nervous to talk.

By the time serving was done, I was entirely spent and ready to sleep. It was a long day helping at the shelter, and yet I went to make an actual difference.

I yawned and threw my apron in the kitchen laundry, and headed towards my room beyound ready to sleep. I didn't realize I was being followed until I was shoved roughly into the wall by a much taller, gross, greasy guy.

Ponte was always a creeper, but I usually kept my distance. He kissed me forcefully, dragging me along the wall to his room and slapping me when I pushed him away. His slap was hard enough that I saw stars and grabbed my face in shock, unable to stop him from dragging me at that point.

In a flash, he was grabbed off me, and my savior immediately punched him in the face without holding back until he was unconscious, the kind of violence I had only seen from one person before.

He was in a black sweats and looked remarkably unkempt, having not shaven in a while, reeking of whisky. He turned to me, seething, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"You fucking idiot. Every day, I stand outside watching you go to your room because I know what happens in these places, and yet you can't even look behind yourself going down a private hallway?" He yelled, shoving me roughly into the wall.