The Autumn Of 1997

1

An ear ran closer to the wood as she tried to focus on the footsteps and conversations of the people on the other side of the door, even through the thick breadth of the hardwood, gaunt whimpers and groans of pain could be heard from the neighboring doors.

One voice she undoubtedly recognized as her little sister, Yamna's.

With pursed lips and tear brimmed eyes, she paced towards the windowsill, a place where she sat most of the time when she was not in "use" to occupy time with her befuddled mind and hopeful soul. Her loosely netted white gown rode up as she sat on the edge to admire the beauty of plain valleys hidden behind grilled bars and locked windows.

Just when Arzu was dozing off to sleep, someone knocked the battered door to her room. "Lunch in five." A monotonous voice announced.

The food that was served to her and the other inmates was nothing close to the lunch she used to have back in the less troubled days. This was just a debri of boiled potato, seasoned with maybe a pinch or two of salt, sided with a chilled flatbread. No one around her seemed to mind it, not even her, not anymore.

They ate, not because they wanted to, because eating meant survival. They ate because they knew they didn't want to suffer the ill fate of an abused death. They needed the energy to hope for better days, for days when they didn't get locked in a studio room for hours, get raped one after the other, maybe one person even several times a day. They ate to hope to feel the breeze of fresh air again, to hope to walk out of here free again, to hope to serve justice to themselves and the ones who did them wrong. To hope for something that seemed so impossible but so very possible.

The brothel in which Arzu, her sister and the other two dozen of females were held captive in, was run by a private organization. No one knew who owned them but they knew not to question about him. The owner would occasionally take  strolls around the brothel, fuck a girl or two and leave and no one, not even the cooks and cleaners, could figure out who he was.

Arzu sat for lunch in her occasional seat, at the right end of the long table that stretched across the entire hall. The food that sat on her plate didn't move an inch since the time she came in. Yamna was always the one who greeted her at the food table but today she'd not even seen her, not here or even at the restroom line.

"Where is Yamna?" She walked out and asked one of the maids that stood outside the vast lunch hall. The brothel was designed to be too big, too powerful and too beautiful for a place that was meant to enslave and abuse young and innocent souls.

The maid avoided eye contact and just faintly shook her head. This small gesture was enough for Arzu to understand that Yamna wasn't in a place to get up and walk till the lunch hall.

The drive to slap the person who did that to Yamna was at maximum when Arzu burst out of the doors of the lunch hall with a tray of plain mashed potato, two toasted bread slices and a bottle of water and ran straight to her sister's room.

She knocked once, no answer. Twice, again no answer. "I'm coming in." Arzu spoke as she managed to swiftly turn the key in and enter the studio room that was now dark as the curtains had fallen and had layered her windows.

Her sister laid on the bed, facing away from the door. Arzu walked up to her, only to find her shivering even though she had a heap of Turkish blankets worn on top of her. Yamna's eyes were closed but the furrow in her brows was enough to make Arzu to get her up from the nightmare she was currently living in.

Visible tension had formed between Yamna's brows and she'd hiss in pain whenever Arzu held her shoulders to shake it, "Relax Sheera, it's me. It's just me." A flash of memory passed through her eyes of when her father used to call Yamna as Sheera, due to her sugary sweet and contagious smile. The same smile that died down only at the age of 16.

"Arzu." She murmured in a weak whisper, her face seemed to slowly relax at some corners but most of the parts were too numb and bruised to even move. "Hi", her torn lips gave a weak smile.

"Yeah it's me I brought you food." She laid the food parallel to her on the bed. We weren't allowed to eat in our rooms, but she didn't seem to follow the rules set as she knew what she was signing up for and right now, a couple of punches and yells didn't matter to her anymore. What mattered was, well, her little Sheera. Maybe it was because they'd lost their real mother at a very young age and Arzu was set with responsibilities at the mere age of 10, she didn't mind. Though they had only two years of age difference, Arzu always took pride in being her elder sister and treated her as a mother treats her new born.

"N-no I'm not hungry."

"I know you're not. You're still going to have to eat." Arzu announced. It wasn't a request or a plea. It was a statement that firmed it didn't want any unwanted oppositions.

After she fed her sister a little, Yamna swiftly went back to sleep.

Arzu was back in her room, folding bedsheets when she heard a knock,

"Arzu, you have a visitor."