Alleviate

7| sete

"I was met with a contrast today," I muttered, not wanting to directly answer his question.

There was barely a response. He nodded slightly, but there wasn't a change of the curious expression on his face either. Right now in this moment I was anticipating what he would say or do next, because my energy levels were falling and my mind was tired. Silence was a beautiful lullaby to me, it is also felt like finding a friend in solitude. But then he spoke and I didn't have a choice but to listen to him.

"Do continue, this sickness is rampant. I want to understand it."

I stayed silent and he continued to speak, looking away. "Of course, I was once a slave to it myself."

"Well," I replied, choosing to ignore his previous sentence, "there was a man who treated me as a lover, and another who treated me as a pet with no mind of its own. But this really doesn't have any significant meaning to me or the clients."

"Of course it doesn't–it shouldn't. But it must be difficult for you either way."

It is difficult, I want to say. But why confide in a client? Who was I to do it? Who was he to understand my struggle? My mind was defiant, it felt weak but it refused to acknowledge that all the strength had left.

Again with the cigarette packet coming out and the red coloured lighter, I watched in silence as he put the end of the white cigarette to his lips, followed by the familiar sound of a lighter clicking until it lit up the end.

"Why are you so fascinated with a cigarette in my mouth?" He asked, turning towards me. I looked away.

"Every time you put a cigarette to your lips, it's like..the kiss of cancer."

"That's one way of putting it, Camilla."

When he used my name, I didn't feel like responding. It still felt strange. It would always feels strange. The clock showed 15 minutes to nine, quite early at night, but my hunger had grown ever since the afternoon. I hung my head low and wrapped my arms around my stomach, my eyes fixed on the stool at the end of the symmetrical room. My eyelids already felt heavy, but I kept blinking rapidly to stay awake.

The room was now filled with the stench of smoke, as it floated around the two us sitting in quietude.

He stared at the wounds of my face, and I made sure to avoid eye contact. It wasn't difficult, it had become second nature to avoid people's eyes and cower away from them.

"Did I cause those bruises yesterday?"

His question caught me off gaurd, and I kept quiet because I did not know how to answer.

"Did you have to suffer merely because I wasn't willing to have sex with you?"

"Delilah wasn't happy, so she hit me," I said quietly.

"She wasn't happy because of my decision, that you had to pay the price for. I'm sorry that this world is so dysfunctional, and the level of intelligence that it operates on. Or the lack of morals."

No one has ever apologised to me. Except my mother, who has left me. I didn't reply to his statement, but asked another question which hadn't left my mind since the previous night.

"You never told me why you came here, yesterday you said it was for another day."

"Right, about that. That is something I need to show you, not something I can explain." There was a lost look on his face, as he stared at the clock in front of him, taking another drag from the cigarette. "Are you ever allowed out of this hell house?"