Mr. Good Bad Guy

41 - Again A Stranger

Her hands immediately flew to her hair, clutching at the strands that had once been hidden beneath the cloth. "No, it's fine. I'm fine without it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Ezra doesn't care. He said it wasn't like anyone was ever going to see me again."

The words hung in the air between us like a physical weight. I could see the pain in her eyes, the loss she was struggling to accept. I wanted to tell her that it would be okay, that everything would work out, but the truth was, I didn't know. I couldn't make any promises. All I could do was be there for her, and hope that it was enough.

I almost cried for her then, feeling so helpless and so useless. I wished I could take away her pain, but I knew that was impossible. So, I did the only thing I could think of: I held her hand. I led her to an unoccupied corner of the cell, and we sat down together. She leaned against me, her head on my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her close. We sat in silence for a long time, the only sounds were the soft sobs that escaped her from time to time.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to make her feel better. I knew she had been through so much already, and that she was just a woman, like me. I wanted to protect her, to make everything okay. But how could I? All I could do was be there for her, and hope that somehow, some way, we would find our way out of this nightmare.

"Have you slept with him?"

The question came out of the blue.

I looked up at a woman standing in front of me. She looked to be a bit older than me, probably in her late thirties. Her face was etched with lines of exhaustion and worry, and her dark eyes held a world of pain. She was wearing a faded gray T-shirt and baggy sweatpants, her feet bare. It took me a moment to realize who she was.

"What?" I didn't want to believe she'd asked me something like that.

"Have you slept with him?" she repeated. "It would explain why he's so nice to you. None of us wanted to sleep with him."

I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger. "Why does that matter? Maybe there's something else he wants from me?"

She looked at me, her expression unreadable. "You're naïve if you think that's the only reason he's being nice to you. He's using you."

I held back the urge to scoff, knowing it would make everyone hate me. There was no point in lying to any of them. Klara probably knew about my relationship with Ezra. Anyone could have put two and two together.

"Before I knew he was some psycho killer...he and I were sleeping together," I said. "He's not nice to me, because I was willing to do what he wanted me to do. He's nice to me, because he knows there's nothing I can do about it."

"You still do?"

"He's...hard to let go off. I was in love with him before. It's not that hard for me to believe empty promises."

"But you're not anymore," the woman said softly. "You don't love him, do you?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't. I wish I could hate him, but...I don't know. It's complicated."

She studied me for a moment, then sat down next to me. "I'm--"

"Leia Weiss. You went missing on your way to yoga. If not for your daughter visiting that day, everyone would have assumed you were on a girls' trip."

She looked surprised that I knew that, but nodded. "Yes, that's right. My husband and I..." She trailed off. "We had an argument that morning. On my way to yoga, someone approached me and asked if I ever had the chance to leave him, would I do it. I laughed, thinking it was just a joke. But then..." Her voice trailed off again, her eyes distant. "I said yes...and ended up here."