Path of Jen: Bloodborne

by Sidney Wood

  He spoke again and the softness was gone from his voice. Jen didn’t know what he said, but she knew she was in trouble. The two men standing behind him walked forward and took hold of her arms. They began to drag her toward the door. “No!” she shouted. “Leave me alone!" She struggled vainly to break free. The man raised his hand and they stopped. They turned her to face him and he walked forward to stand before her again.

  He spoke one word with a strong Persian accent, “American." The anger in his face was gone. Instead, he seemed curious and slightly amused. “What is name?”

  Jen’s body trembled from the surge of adrenalin, but she managed to say, “Jena Amahdi." He nodded thoughtfully and waved his hand dismissively to the other men. They let go and stepped back to their places behind him. Jen stepped back against the wall and the man moved on to the next girl.

  “What just happened?” she wondered. Her head spun with confusion and relief. “Am I safe? Did I just get lucky, or did I make things worse?”’

  The man spoke to the woman briefly and then he and his body guards left the building. Once they were gone, the woman walked to the front of the room. She spoke more gently than before, and it went on for some time. The other girls nodded periodically, or shook their heads, but no one aside from the woman spoke. Jen was lost. She could not even guess at what they were hearing. It must have been something about rules or what to expect, but it meant nothing to her. She just stood quietly and prayed it would be over soon.

  When the woman was done speaking they were taken behind the building where a small wooden fence stood to provide concealment while they went to the bathroom. By this time, Jen was not embarrassed to squat and do her business with the other girls. The worst part was that there was no running water and no toilet paper. The best she could do for hygiene was to splash water from a plastic bottle and hope for a shower later.

  The girls were then taken to a second building, which was much smaller than the first. It consisted of a single room with straw mats and a few blankets. “This is where we’ll sleep,” Jen surmised. They looked dirty and not entirely comfortable, but after days of riding in the back of a bumpy and dusty truck, Jen couldn’t wait to lay down on one and rest. The woman spoke to them again while gesturing toward the mats and then took them outside once more. They were led to a wooden shack where another woman was preparing food in large pots over a single fire pit. Jen had no idea what was in the pots, but it made her mouth water. Her stomach growled a she stood waiting. Four of the girls were selected to stay with the woman and help prepare food. The rest were led to another wooden shack where a girl was dunking clothes into a tub of dirty brown, but soapy water and scrubbing them. She dunked the same clothes into a tub of clean water before wringing them out and hanging them up to dry. Jen and three others were selected to stay and help the girl with the laundry. “Thank you God,” thought Jen. “This is something I can do without a translator." She took the wrung out clothes from the girl and began hanging them over the clothes lines that crisscrossed the alley between two buildings.

  It didn’t take long to cover all of the clothes lines, but there were still several baskets of laundry waiting to be done. The girl who was in charge directed them to continue washing and rinsing the clothes, and then to Jen’s surprise, had them lay the clean clothes out on the dirt to dry. Jen didn’t argue. She did as she was told.

  By the time they had washed all of the clothes, Jen was getting hungry. She looked over to where the others were preparing food and wondered when they would be allowed to eat. It would be the first real food any of them had to eat in several days. The woman in charge of the food stepped out of the shack and shouted something in all directions. In seconds, men from all over the compound converged on the shack and formed a long line. Most were solemn and quiet as they waited in line. Some of the younger men were more jovial and laughed and joked with each other as they waited. All of them were dressed in traditional Muslim garb. “It could be a thousand years ago, and there is nothing within view to show otherwise,” thought Jen. She shook her head and continued folding the mostly dry robes as she had been shown.

  An hour later, the men had all passed through the meal line and the girls were permitted to stop working and eat what was left. They took their food, which consisted of a salty broth with vegetables and some stringy meat, to their living area. They were permitted to take off their head coverings once inside. The break lasted long enough to eat the food and rest for a few moments, and then they were ushered out again. This time, they walked through the men’s dining area and policed up all of their dishes and discarded trash. They were divided up once again into dishwashing and laundry details. Others retrieved water in five gallon buckets from a well just outside the compound, while Jen and the light skinned girl were given straw brooms and instructed to sweep out the first building they had entered upon arrival.

  That evening, as dusk settled in, more trucks rumbled into camp. The girls were ushered inside to be closed in their sleeping quarters for the night. As she was obediently walking inside, Jen saw the man in brown greeting armed soldiers as they jumped down from the back of pick-up trucks. They carried machine guns and wore black scarves wrapped around their faces and heads. Jen’s head spun as the door was closed and the room became dark. “Are these the soldiers who are fighting the ISIS terrorists I have heard about on TV? Are these people Kurds? Am I just here to be a cleaner or a cook?” she wondered as she took off her head covering and lay down on a straw mat. The little girl with light skin found her in the darkness and lay down next to her. She put her head against Jen’s chest and curled up in a ball. Jen calmed and her heart melted. “This girl needs me,” she thought. I have to be strong for her. She closed her eyes and put her arm around her little friend.

  Soon, the warm food and exhaustion from many days of travel took their toll on Jen and the other girls. She was falling asleep. As she drifted into slumber, Jen recalled the men climbing down from the trucks. She imagined they were honorable soldiers, fighting to protect the Christian’s living in Syria and Iraq. She imagined some of them were handsome and kind and that tomorrow she would meet one of them. He would approach her as she worked with the other girls, and she would find that he spoke English like her. A smile crept across her face as she slept.

  Chapter Nine

  “Ouch!” Jen shouted. “Hey! Stop it!" Her hair was being pulled and it really hurt!

  A child was crying and she could hear scuffling noises as she pushed whoever was pulling her hair away. It was dark and she could not see, but she felt small arms flailing, and small hands grasping for her. “Oh No!” she yelled. “Leave her alone!" The light skinned girl was being dragged away from her and the girl struggled to hold on and stay with Jen. Jen sat up and grabbed hold of the girl. There was a terrible tug of war between Jen and some unseen person who smelled of sweat and dust. The girl wrapped her arms around Jen’s neck, and Jen had her own arms wrapped tightly around the girl’s body.

  Suddenly, in the dark, Jen saw stars. Light exploded in front of her eyes and a metallic taste flooded her mouth. A dull, but heavy pressure spread across the middle of her face and then pain sharply stabbed her nose and upper teeth. “I just got punched in the face,” she thought. “So that’s what it feels like,” she considered dimly as her arms went slack and the girl was ripped away. She fell back onto the straw mat they had slept on and watched the stars swirling just beyond her reach. Pain increased as her senses returned, and she realized she was having trouble breathing through the blood and snot in her mouth and over her nose. She sat up again and spit blood onto the floor. She could see the open door despite the darkness, and hurried to it. “Where is she?” Jen wondered in a panic. “Oh dear God! I pushed her away!”

  Jen’s hand was over her mouth as she tried to fathom what was happening. “Who took her?" She looked behind her, and saw only darkness. “Why?" Jen turned back to the door just as it was shut from outside. A man with fierce eyes growled at her and slammed it
closed. She heard a latch click, and footsteps walking away. She tried the door knob, but it was locked. She raised her fist to pound on it, and then stopped. “What if they come back and hurt these girls because of me?" Feeling guilty, helpless, and still shaking with adrenalin, Jen slowly walked back to her mat. She sat down and gingerly touched her nose. “Ouch!" Her whole face felt swollen. Jen wrapped her arms around her belly and cried. “Why are you letting this happen, God?” she asked aloud. “Please, help me." Then, looking up into the darkness she pled, “Please, Father, help my friend."

  Hours later, morning light crept under the door and the latch clicked open. The door swung quickly aside as the woman in black entered and roused them from their sleep. She walked among them and prodded those still sleeping with her foot. Jen was still awake after the fight last night, and immediately sat up. She looked around the room, hoping to see the little light skinned girl sleeping somewhere else. She was not. Jen felt hollow as she slipped the head covering over her bruised face and stood up. She took a deep breath and prepared mentally to face another day. She let it out slowly. “I wish Sarah was here. If I had a friend to talk to, this wouldn’t seem so bad."

  As she walked out of the building with the other girls she felt grimy and dirty, and her face hurt with every step. She regretted wishing Sarah was with her. She was glad Sarah was far away from this terrible place. “I miss you Sarah!” she thought. Tears welled in her eyes and she had to fight to keep the tears from flowing. Once she started, she was afraid she would not stop.

  Throughout the day the girls were led through multiple chores and duties. They were also made to pray separately from, but at the same time as, the men. Jen knew a little of the ritual because of her father, and because of some exposure to it on TV, but she mostly copied what everyone else did. She began to appreciate the anonymity the burka provided. She felt invisible, and most of the time she was.

  She looked for the light skinned girl as she went through the motions of each assigned task, and she pretended obedience. All the while she looked for an opportunity or a means to escape. Jen had no idea where she was, or how to find help if she left. She only knew that she was not meant for this. She did not belong, and she wanted to go home.

  The trucks that the soldiers arrived in were still parked outside between the buildings. Jen wondered where the soldiers in black were as she beat the dust from one of the hanging rugs with a stick. “Did they take the little girl with them?” she wondered. “Did they notice she was missing and now they are out searching for her? She was reminded of her dreams from the night before, and she wondered who the soldiers actually were. “They aren’t good men,” she thought. “That is pretty much a guarantee." Jen pretended each rug covered the face of the man who had taken her friend and she beat them mercilessly.

  That evening, before supper, Jen saw the soldiers again. They came from beyond the compound, still carrying their rifles and looking weary. Their black head wraps were gray with dust, and instead of covering their faces the tails hung loosely about their necks. Most were old and gaunt, and they looked more like peasant shepherds than soldiers. A few of them were younger, and they stood out from the rest. Even beneath the loose robes, Jen could tell they had hard and lean bodies. They walked upright with pride. One of them, a surprisingly young looking soldier without a beard, was quite handsome. Jen caught herself staring. His eyes were not as hard as the others, and he seemed to be interested in everything he looked at. The others looked at everything with indifference or scorn, but he seemed to have an appreciation for the world that surrounded him.

  A hand cuffed Jen in the back of the head. “Ow!" She turned to see the woman in black standing close behind her and giving her an unpleasant look. “Okay, okay,” Jen thought. “I won’t look at the pretty boy." She looked down obediently and walked quickly to join the other girls waiting out of sight nearby. Her nose throbbed as she sat against the back wall of their hiding place. They were inside the little shack nearest their living quarters, sitting in the shade. The other girls spoke to each other in hushed tones and Jen listened for words she might recognize. She began to feel lonely, and felt tears of self-pity coming. “What gives me the right to feel sorry for myself and cry?” she argued. “That little girl must be terrified, wherever she is." She shook it off and determined to think about something else. “I should learn to speak, or at least try to understand some of what they are saying,” she thought.

  “Salaam,” she said to the group. The other girls stopped talking and turned toward her. They stared in silence. Jen smiled briefly, but then she realized they couldn’t see her face. She scooted closer and held out her hand to the nearest girl. “Salaam,” she said again.

  “Salaam,” replied the girl timidly. She reached out and squeezed Jen’s offered hand, awkwardly. They both giggled at the uncomfortable situation, and soon all of the girls were giggling.

  “My name is Jena,” said Jen while placing her hand over her heart. She patted it and repeated, “Jena."

  The other girl held her hand against her chest and said, “Esmee Mara." Then she repeated, “Mara,” as she tapped her chest. The other girls took their turn introducing themselves to Jen. They all said it in the same way, “Esmee,” and then their name. Jen wondered what the little girl with light skin was called. “I wish I could ask them about her,” she thought. “Maybe one of them knows where she was from.”

  The woman in black stepped around the corner and shushed them harshly. She passed her familiar disapproving stare around the group and lingered especially long on Jen. “Bring it on,” thought Jen as she defiantly returned her stare. “Your mean-old-lady stare doesn’t bother me." The woman held her gaze for a moment longer and then clapped her hands. It was time for the girls to eat. The girls jumped to their feet and hurriedly walked to get their supper.

  When they rounded the corner Jen saw a smallish girl in a full length black burka sitting alone. “It’s her!” thought Jen. She broke away from the others and ran over to the girl. She sat down next to her and gave her a big hug. The young girl squeezed her tightly and spoke trembling words in Farsi. Jen couldn’t understand the words, but she recognized the fear and sorrow that accompanied them. Jen looked back at the others and saw the old woman walking stiffly toward her. Jen turned back to the girl, knowing time was short. She said, “Esmee Jen,” and patted her chest. She looked expectantly at the girl’s big brown eyes.

  “Esmee Sarah,” the girl said through trembling lips. Jen choked and held back the unwanted tears that sprung immediately to her eyes upon hearing that name. She hugged the girl tightly until she felt the strong hands of the old woman pulling the two apart. The woman cuffed Jen solidly on the back of the head and spoke harshly to Sarah in Farsi. Then she took Sarah roughly by the arm and dragged her to the doorway of one of the nearby buildings Jen and the other girls were not allowed in.

  An old man, one of the soldiers in black, opened the door and spoke briefly to the old woman as she firmly held the girl. Jen watched helplessly as the girl was taken by the old man and the door was shut. “Why is she being forced to stay in there with him?” wondered Jen. Then after a moment another thought occurred to her. “Why was she wearing a burka like the older girls and women? She was just wearing a hijab before.”

  The old woman made her way back to Jen and kicked her. She continued to push and kick her until Jen got the idea and hurried back to the other girls as they stood in line for their food. When she got in line, Mara looked at her with wide eyes full of concern. Jen shook it off and winked at her. Mara’s expression immediately softened and she let out a tiny giggle. They faced the front and shuffled forward with the line. Jen chanced a look back to the doorway where Sarah had last stood. “I promise I will help you if I can,” she thought. Then she turned back to the front and focused on getting through the rest of the evening.

  Over the next few weeks, Jen talked with the other girls whenever she found an opportunity. As she scrubbed clothes or washed dishes, she wo
uld ask the other girls for the names of objects. Soon they were beyond teaching her simple words and she began to learn common phrases. When she beat the rugs or swept the floors, she practiced saying them over and over. She began to understand snippets of conversations and tried repeating what she heard to the other girls.

  By winter, there were only four of them left. Little Sarah and one of the older girls were taken by the first group of soldiers to visit their compound. Other soldiers came and took girls with them when they left as well. Mara was taken with the last group to come through. “At least now I know what we are here for,” thought Jen. It was clear that they were slaves. They were valued only as property. The lucky ones would perform labor, like the three of them did here in this compound. The others were not as lucky. They were awarded as child brides, or as sex slaves to Jihadists passing through. The man in brown owned them, and he gave them as prizes to soldiers who proved themselves loyal or brave.

  Jen was speaking passable Farsi, although the three other girls that remained teased her about her American accent. The old woman had softened toward the girls as the weeks and months passed. She was still strict, but at times she joined the girls in light hearted teasing and laughing. Jen almost forgot she was part of the group keeping her and the others here against their will. She wondered how the woman had become what she was: a slaver. “Was the woman once a slave, like us? Was this her home? Was kidnapping and slavery something she was forced into, or did she do it of her own free will?" Jen closed her eyes and turned to memories of home. In the darkness, bundled against the cold, she lay on her mat and thought of all of the things she had once taken for granted. “Running water and a hot shower would be heaven!" They were permitted to bathe once a week, when water was available, in a makeshift shower made from water barrels set on top of a frame. The men bathed in the evening when the sun had warmed the water all day. The girls bathed in the morning when the water was ice cold. Jen shivered just thinking about it.