by Lily Wallis
“Which one?”
“Oh boy, it had a striped green awning and was on Decatur Street,” I say, a little embarrassed since I forgot the name.
“Café du Monde,” he replies.
“Yes, that’s the one,” I say. “What does that mean?”
“Coffee of the world. Good choice. Did you try the Beignets?”
“Of course,” I say. “My co-worker back home raved about Beignets.”
“Good friend?”
“What?”
“Your co-worker?”
“Oh, not really. I just said I was going to New Orleans, and he said I can’t leave without trying them.”
“He’s right, and what did you think?”
“Heaven in my mouth,” I gush.
“Maybe you should move here,” he suggests, of course joking.
“Well, as you know, I’m not attached to Florida. It’s not like I have family tying me down.”
“Then you can be a gypsy like me,” he laughs.
“I thought you’re from New Orleans,” I ask, a little confused.
“Oui, Madame, but I do travel. How about I get you that drink now?”
“Sure,” I smile. “I’ll have-”
“Nope, let me surprise you.”
When Theroux returns, he is holding a beautifully colored drink with beads draped around the glass. Setting it down in front of me, my eyes meet his, and before I can ask, he answers.
“Sex on the Beach.”
“How did you know I was about to ask?”
“Your inquisitive eyes,” he smiles, setting his whiskey down in front of him.
“Dead giveaway, I guess.”
“I can read you like a book, ma chérie,” he says, taking a drink.
“You think you can,” I counter. “I may surprise you.”
“I like surprises. I’m game for anything. Mostly.”
About two hours later, and after God knows how many drinks, I am glad to be sitting. How am I going to make it back to my hotel room? Reaching for the glass of water, I close my eyes before taking a sip. When I open them, I start to feel just a bit dizzy.
“Are you ok, Violet?” Theroux asks, his eyes full of concern.
“A little dizzy,” I say, my hand reaching for my temple. “I think I’m getting a headache.”
“Do you want to step out for some fresh air? It may be a good idea.”
“I think so,” I reply, and as soon as I try to stand, I feel as if my legs are about to give out.
Rushing over to my side, Theroux’s arm wraps around my waist, while his hand drapes my arm around his neck for support.
“Easy,” he says. “We have time.”
Instead of navigating through the crowd to reach the entrance, he takes me through a back door, saying the alleyway won’t have too many people hanging around. He’s right, there is not one person in sight. Slowly, he walks us down the alley, telling me that I must have reached my limit where alcohol is concerned. All I can let out is a giggle, thinking just about anything is funny coming out of his mouth. Suddenly, I hear footsteps come toward us, and when I squint my eyes to see what it could be, I see two massive men coming our way. I freeze up, fear overtaking me.
“Theroux?”
“Don’t scream,” Theroux demands, and before I can process what is going on, I feel his hand cover my mouth while his arm envelops my entire waist, picking me up from the ground.
I begin to fight, my hands trying to remove his arm, but it’s no use, he’s too strong. I watch as the men continue to make their way towards us, my heart pounding uncontrollably.
“Hurry up,” Theroux demands. “I can’t hold her much longer.”
“Sleep well, ma petit,” the man on the left grins as the other blows a pink powder right into my face.
My flailing legs begin to calm, my arms feeling heavy and numb. I force to keep my eyes open, but the harder I try, the more they want to close.
“Close your eyes, my darling. Go to sleep,” I hear Theroux whisper near my ear, and that’s when I give in.
Chapter Three
A bloodcurdling scream awakens me and I open my eyes. Panic strikes once I realize I have no idea where I am.
“Please!” a woman pleads lying on the ground. “I swear I won’t do it again.”
“If you’re lucky, Malvado will pardon you with your death,” a burly man spits back, gripping a fistful of her hair. “No one harms the King!”
Before she can say a word, she is drug out of the room by her hair, only the echoes of her screams still audible behind the slammed door. This must be some kind of a nightmare. I can’t remember how I got here; I can’t remember anything. Suddenly, a soft voice rips me from my thoughts.
“Well good evening, darling. You were out for a long time.”
“Where am I?” I ask, searching the woman’s eyes for answers, my own going in and out of double vision.
“Let’s not worry about that right now. Are you hungry?”
“Am I hungry? No! Where am I?” I say, panic beginning to strike me again. “What is going on? How did I get here?”
“Now, what did I tell you?” she replies, her hand trying to touch mine, and as soon as she does, I inch further into the corner.
“Don’t touch me!” I cry.
“I’m sure you saw what happened to that young lady a few minutes ago, and I’m sure you don’t want to meet the same fate. I suggest you put a smile on that pretty little face of yours and show me some respect. Lord knows you want to be on my good side. So, let’s try this again, are you hungry, dear?”
“No,” I reply, feeling tears build in my eyes.
“No, Ma’am. You’re in Louisiana now, honey. We have manners here.”
“No, Ma’am.”
“Good girl. Just follow the rules and you will be just fine. I’ll get you a glass of tea.”
As she walks away, I pinch the skin of my arm, still hoping I’m caught in a dream, but sadly realize, I am not. You’re in Louisiana now, honey…what am I doing in Louisiana? Looking around the room it seems that I am in some sort of cellar with only a table and chair and the straw I am sitting on. I see chains on the walls and another area across the room with a makeshift straw bed. Maybe that’s where the other woman was before she was taken out of the room. Slowly, I try to get up, bracing myself on the cold wall. It is then I realize that I have soiled myself, my dress clinging to my thighs. Unsteady on my feet, I do manage to walk across the room, using the wall to support my weight. My eyes widen when I see a pool of blood near the straw, and I cover my mouth in disbelief.
“You’re walking better than I would have expected,” the soft voice says, and I turn to look at her.
I want to ask her what happened, but also don’t want to end up like the other woman, so I keep my questions to myself.
“I,” I begin. “I’ve soiled myself.”
“It’s to be expected, my dear. Not to worry, Theroux has your suitcase and we have an abundance of clothing that you will get to see soon enough. Just have to figure out where you belong.”
Theroux. Why does that name sound familiar? Where have I heard that before. While I try to remember, the woman’s mouth is moving a mile a minute. Now that my vision is finally returning to normal, I get a good look at her. She must be in her sixties, heavyset, with her hair up in a bun. She is wearing a dress with an apron and from the warm smile on her face, could pass for anyone’s grandmother. As the woman continues her banter, I notice something shiny on the inside of her wrist. Squinting my eyes, I see it’s some sort of jewel imbedded in the skin, and just as I am about to speak, the door opens.
“Theroux, perfect timing.”
My eyes shoot in his direction, and that’s when everything starts to come back to me. It was him. He drugged me. The men in the alley.
“You did this to me!” I scream, and within seconds I feel my knees give out and I fall to the ground.
“No one speaks to my son that way,” the woman says in a rage, getting down on her kne
es and gripping my chin. “You show respect! He is bringing you clothes. Do you want to sit in your piss for the next few days?”
“No, Ma’am,” I sob. “I’m sorry.”
Setting down a suitcase, they both leave the room and I hear the door lock behind them. The suitcase looks familiar, almost like one that I own myself. Walking over to it, I rip it open to find my clothes. How could they have gotten my suitcase? Digging through it, I try to find anything I could use as a weapon, but come up empty handed. My eyes scan the room once again, stopping at a glass of tea standing on a table. I’m thirsty, but what if it’s been tampered with? Still staring at the glass, the pieces are starting to fit together. I came to Louisiana for a vacation. My suitcase was in my hotel though. Did I tell Theroux where I was staying? No, I didn’t. I continue to put together a puzzle that is missing too many pieces until my head begins to hurt. Closing my eyes, I let out a sigh of defeat before taking out new clothes. Once I’m changed, I lay on the bed of straw with my back against the wall, hoping this is all just a terrible nightmare.
Chapter Four
The door opens, and I hear desperate sobs fill the room. Opening my eyes, I see it’s the young woman from earlier, and she’s being carried in by two men in masks. Laying her on the straw, they turn and are gone within seconds. Sitting up, I stare at her and even though her sobs have started to become silent, I see the jerking in her body. She can’t be one of them, maybe she can tell me what the hell is going on. Wait, maybe it’s a test. Maybe they want to see if I’ll take the bait. I am so paranoid…the tea, this woman. Taking a deep breath, I decide to walk over to her, my eyes fixated on the door. As I reach her, I place my hand on her shoulder.
“Hey,” I say. “Are you ok?”
“We will never leave here,” she says, her head still burrowed in her arm. “At least not alive.”
“Where are we?” I ask, hoping she knows something.
Turning toward me, I see her face is swollen and the beginnings of bruises are forming on her jawline and under her eyes. Her lip is busted and her neck has a red line as if she’s been choked.
“We are in hell,” she answers, lifting up her right arm, and it is then I see she is missing a hand.
“Oh my God, what happened?”
“I scratched him, and as a punishment, they cut off my hand.”
“Scratched who?”
“Malvado,” she answers, and it’s the second time I’ve heard this name mentioned. “I knew better, but I couldn’t stand him putting his hands on me.”
“Who is Malvado? How long have you been here?”
“I’ve been here for about a week,” she replies. “I think.”
“Who is Malvado?” I ask, and that is when the door opens.
Instinctively, I jump back, but I can’t disguise that I’ve been tending to this woman. My heart is beating out of my chest and I am afraid, afraid of what they may do to me.
“Wonderful, I see you’ve met Caroline,” the soft voice says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Now, honey. Remember our conversation about manners and respect? Well, Caroline here decided that she wanted to be a rebel and not follow our rules. Caroline, darling, have the rules become clear now?”
“Yes Madame Benoit. I understand,” Caroline sobs, holding her wrist that used to have her hand attached.
“Oh dear,” Madame Benoit starts as she walks over to her. “Lazare!”
I hear footsteps approach, and the man that drug Caroline out of here by her hair, stands there, his eyes on Madame Benoit.
“Yes, Madame?”
“Well, little Miss Caroline looks like she is going to bleed out. I think your cauterizing didn’t work. Do it again.”
“Oh please, Madame. No, please. I beg you,” Caroline cries, gripping Madame Benoits dress.
In a swift move, she slaps Caroline across her face, sending her flying to the ground.
“Silence!” she screams. “Lazare, get the flame and just do it in here. Violet, you haven’t touched your tea, honey.”
“I wasn’t thirsty,” I lie, my eyes still on Caroline.
“But you are now, right?” she says, her eyes burning into my soul.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I say shaking, walking toward the table.
Picking up the glass, I put it to my lips, and even though my instinct tells me not to, I begin to drink it.
“That’s a good girl. See Caroline? Why can’t you be more like Violet here?”
Within seconds the room becomes blurry and I feel my body go limp, the glass falling out of my hand. Madame Benoit holds me up and I watch as her head moves to the side and she starts to yell, but I can only hear the ringing in my ears. My eyes close again.
Chapter Five
“Very beautiful. This is Theroux’s work?”
“Yes, it is, your Highness.”
“He shall be rewarded.”
Opening my eyes, the brightness from the windows sends a stinging sensation, making me shut them in reflex. I take a deep breath. I’m no longer in the room I found myself in before, that much I know. I attempt to open my eyes again, this time much more slowly.
“Shh,” a voice says calmly. “Take your time, ma belle fleur. Thibodeux, close the curtains.”
The room becomes darker, and my eyes welcome the kind gesture. Who said this? Searching my left and right, I don’t see anyone, and as I attempt to sit up, my head starts to pound.
“Relax,” the voice says, and then I feel someone grab my hand, and even though I want to pull away, I don’t. “Give yourself a moment before getting up.”’
My eyes search for the voice, and once he inches closer, fear hits me immediately. His face is painted skeleton like, with black circles around his eyes. He is also wearing a black top hat decorated with white feathers. Is he a person? Is he dead? I have no idea what is going on. Then my eyes fixate on his, a shade of pale blue I have never seen in my entire life. I find myself mesmerized by the emptiness, yet there is a power in them.
“I’m scared,” I say, emotions hitting me as tears roll down my face.
“Don’t be afraid, my darling. Everything will be fine, I promise,” the man says, and I’m not sure why I am trusting his word.
For a moment I am bewitched by the voice, the face, those eyes. I want to speak, but can’t find my voice. Next, he places a hand on my cheek, and I tense up, gasping in fear.
“Welcome to the Bayou, ma chérie. This is your new home.”
“What?” I reply, my eyes widened. “No, I can’t stay here.”
He doesn’t say another word. Removing his hand from my cheek, he gets up to walk away, but I reach for his arm to stop him. Within seconds I am pushed against the sofa by the man they called Thibodeux.
“You do not have permission to touch the King!”
“I’m,” I begin, sobbing. “I’m sorry.”
“Now, Thibodeux. Gentle. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Yes, you’re highness, pardon.”
Still pressed to the sofa, I see the man with the painted face walk toward the doorway, stopping short.
“I know it is all new, all unfamiliar. You don’t have a family and that is what we want to give you.”
No, how does he know I don’t have family? Wait, Theroux! I told him this. Here I thought I was having an innocent conversation. Had I known it was going to be used against me…God, how am I going to get out of here. As Malvado turns, I speak.
“Wait!” I say, Thibodeux still holding me down.
Turning around, his pale blue eyes meet mine, and he gestures for me to speak.
“Who are you?”
“I am your King. Your saving grace,” he begins. “I am Malvado.”
With the mention of his name, he disappears out of sight and I am left more confused than before. Is this really the man that had Caroline’s hand cut off? He seems calm, even-tempered, and almost kind. Looking at the man who’s grip never left my arm, I sob.
“Please let me go, I beg you
. I won’t say a word. I don’t even know where I am.”
“You’ll never leave here,” he growls as he pulls me to my feet. “Just accept your destiny.”
Dragging me out of the room and down a long-carpeted hall, we pass other people who move out of the way to let us pass. Several of them welcome me, while others only wear a smile. I take in my surroundings as we come to a grand staircase. Standing at the top, I can see the massive front doors, guarded by two men. Even if I could wriggle free, there is no way I could get out.
“So?” I hear a familiar voice approach us.
“I believe he was pleased.”
Turning my head, I see Madame Benoit, holding a small box.
“Then there will be a ceremony?” she asks.
“I’m sure of it,” the man answers, his grip making my arm ache.
“Has he told you when, or will I have to ask him myself?” she huffs, but before she can continue, someone interrupts.
“Mother,” Theroux begins. “We have time.”
“Listen to your son,” the man grins. “It’s none of your concern.”
“Mother, let us go,” Theroux says, grabbing her arm.
As both walk away, the man begins dragging me down the stairs. Looking around the grand entry hall, I notice that the windows are barred, and the guards carry swords. Coming to an old wooden door, the man turns to me.
“You stand completely still; do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I reply, feeling myself shake.
Releasing my arm, he grabs a set of keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door. Pulling it open, his eyes meet mine.
“Inside,” he instructs, and I see a set of stairs leading down, the walls lined with lit candles.
When we make it to the bottom, we walk through a short hall until reaching yet another door. After it is unlocked, I feel defeat when I see he has taken me to the same room where my nightmare began.
Chapter Six
Days go by, and I am still in this cellar. I’ve seen girls mistreated, verbally abused, beaten, and even though mostly unscathed, Madame Benoit has put her hands on me on more than one occasion. She believes in punishing all for the mistakes of one, and at this point I’m surprised Caroline is still alive. Through her I have learned of more horrors that take place in this house, but neither know why we are held captive.
