Ruthless

26

My wide eyes, reminiscent of a deer caught in red light, now blinked, struggling to absorb the bewildering sight before me. I had been standing there for the past five minutes, attempting to make sense of the scene, but it eluded my understanding.

Remaining skeptical, I tilted my head and squinted at Austin, whose gaze remained fixed ahead. With curiosity to know what was happening, I decided to confront him, hoping to free myself from the mental turmoil.

"Where are we?" I inquired.

Upon hearing my question, Austin reluctantly shifted his gaze towards me. His furrowed brow indicated an inner conflict about how to unfold the subject, enveloping us in a heavy silence.

The growing discomfort intensified with each passing second. At this point, I yearned for Austin to break the uneasy atmosphere and provide some answers.

Austin rubbed the left side of his temple and twisted his neck to the left where I was standing at the fullest height, reaching up to his shoulder.

"This is an organization for women. You'll be staying here from now on," he stated.

Although he had appeared hesitant earlier, his tone now took on a casual demeanor.

I blinked rapidly, trying to absorb the unexpected news. The initial confusion was quickly replaced by a simmering rage. My body turned towards him, arms folded across my chest.

"I'm fine," I retorted, perhaps more rudely than intended. It was a reflex, a defense against all the looming pity and questioning gazes since I woke up in the hospital. Deep down I felt Austin was pitying me as well, and I couldn't bear the sympathy-filled looks; they felt like salt and chill poured onto a deep stab wound.

Austin's composure remained unwavering despite my offensive tone. I had anticipated at least a hint of surprise, but there was none. Perhaps he had expected such a reaction from me.

"I mean no harm, Faith. I just want you to be happy," he reassured.

I felt a slight softening within. Deep down, I knew Austin meant well; he was genuinely concerned about me.

Breaking eye contact, I refocused on the women in the room, silently consuming their meals. Though their expressions were distant, they appeared healthy and well-fed.

Gathering my emotions to respond, a rough voice interrupted, calling out Austin's name.

***********

Examining the source of the voice, I observed a middle-aged, slightly plump woman – perhaps in her forties. She appeared clad in a black coat with a white shirt beneath, strolling toward us with a cheerful smile.

Coming to a halt right in front of us, her gaze fixated on Austin, as if she were sketching his features in memory. The persistent smile on her face suggested a potential crush on him. It might be possible, given the way she looked and smiled at him.

However, her attention soon shifted to me. I reconsidered my earlier assumption about the crush when she seemed even happier to see me. She must be quirky, finding immense joy even in the presence of a stranger.

Her eyes assessed me from head to toe, a rather uncomfortable scrutiny.

Never before had I experienced such unease from someone's gaze. It felt as if I were an object under her control, perched on the edge of a cliff where the slightest movement could lead to my downfall.

Twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, she turned to Austin and inquired, "Is this the girl you were talking about?"

I couldn't help but notice her discolored gums, likely a result of tobacco consumption. How did I discern this? The unmistakable scent of tobacco clung to her.