Tsea

by Arthurs, Nia

  “You rescue girls by killing them?”

  “Oh no,” he shook his head. “No, no, no. By setting an example, a road block so they never make your mistakes.”

  “My… mistakes?”

  “You offer your body to anyone who comes along, forgetting how exquisite you are, how priceless. You feed the lusts of men, degrading the sacrifices that so many have made before you, drawing them into sin.”

  I struggled to follow his line of thought which would have been difficult even without the drugs pumping through my system.

  “I used to be a… a little girl too. Aren’t you supposed to protect me?”

  “You’ve made your bed,” he stood and brought a basket of items near to me. I noticed that he wore a fresh pair of gloves on his hands. He pressed a button and I winced, wondering if the moment had come when I would lose my life.

  “No,” I moaned.

  “Sh,” he grabbed my arm as the needle buzzed, “if you move, it will hurt more.”

  Tears threatened to fall as I hesitantly asked, “what… are you doing?”

  “They need to know. This life is dangerous. What it does to your body, what it does to your soul. Little girls need to know.” I whimpered as he pressed the tattoo machine against my skin. The whirring filled my head and the area that he worked on spread fire through my entire body. I wanted to hit him but I could barely lift my arms.

  “Please,” I sobbed, “please, stop.”

  He ignored me and continued to move the tattoo machine with precision. “Tsea,” he breathed, and lightly rubbed my arm with his gloved hands, “do you know what it means?” He didn’t wait around for me to answer. “It means ‘soiled’ in Hebrew. That’s what you are. So, so filthy.”

  I shook my head, crying from the pain and the realization that this was the end for me. No one was coming. “Please,” I tried one last time, as darkness spotted my vision.

  “Don’t worry. Through your death, I will bring life.”

  It was the last thing I heard before I allowed the pain to overcome me.

  Chapter 15

  The girl had fallen limp. Stoker ran a hand down her beautiful skin. It was so, so soft. He could well imagine a mortal man falling prey to her spells. Her curly hair splayed out beneath her head and her precious eyes were tightly shut, a flutter of eyelashes resting against prominent cheeks.

  He gently lay her on the cement floor and drew a tendril of hair away from her shoulder. The tattoo on her arm puffed with red irritation and he blew against it.

  She did not stir.

  He checked his watch. It was almost midnight. The time of her execution was fast approaching. Stoker felt excitement stirring in his stomach. What a fitting ending. A young woman, separating her body from her common sense, had followed her basest instincts only to end up here. She had lived her life in pleasure and she would die in pain.

  Stoker rose to his feet and blew her a kiss. His last tsea. Surely he had accomplished his mission by making examples of these fornicators, these harbingers of sin. This road of wickedness led to death. He had simply accelerated the process. The world would know that women of the night were meeting their just punishments.

  He smiled to himself as he opened the black door and stepped into the chamber in which he stored his sword. It hung on the wall, recently sharpened and cleaned after his last sacrifice. He thought of the last girl. What a strange name she’d had. Essence. He chuckled as he grasped the hilt in his palms, feeling the weight as comfortable as it always was.

  The weapon had been specially designed for beheadings. It was quite a feat that he’d found it when he had. It was almost… divine. The sword was delivered with a mission to save the little girls and as such, he felt that success was eminent.

  A thump resounded in the quiet space. Stoker froze. Something wasn’t right. He moved slowly, turning on his heels as the thumps merged into a clatter of footsteps. No! It couldn’t be. Men in black suits bearing flashlights and rifles suddenly barreled into his sanctuary.

  Stoker wielded his sword, urging them backward. They wouldn’t understand. They’d let her live, knowing who she was.

  “Put the weapon down!” A man dressed in a black vest commanded.

  Stoker lowered the hilt and stared at the ground. These men stood between him and his mission. He glanced up, pulling the sword from its case. It separated with a metallic clang. “No.”

  Immediately, shots rang out, singing the exposed walls and clicking against the cement floor. The sword fell from Stoker’s limp hands. He warbled backwards, remaining on his feet for an incredible amount of time before he finally fell, face first.

  “Tsea,” he whispered on his last breath.

  “Jade! Jade! No! This is not the way you’re leaving me. Do you hear? I know you’re too stubborn to give up like this. You’ve got to breathe.”

  Frantic words pierced the darkness.

  Carlos?

  “Come on, Jade. You’ve got to take a breath. Just breathe with me.”

  I felt hands pressing my chest, air bubbling through my nose. I coughed and my eyes flew open. Carlos’s dark brown eyes gazed down. “That’s right,” he coaxed, “take it easy.”

  I looked past him to the EMTs and police officers gathered around me and roaming The Executioner’s hideout. I tried to speak but found that I could not.

  “Just rest, Jade,” he held my hand. “Just rest for a minute.”

  I ignored his request. “He’s here,” I croaked, “he’s here.”

  “He’s dead.” Carlos assured with an edge to his voice. “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

  The words rushed over me and I began to cry. Carlos captured me in his arms and cradled me close. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  After a few minutes, I moved my shoulder in an effort to read the tattoo imprinted on my skin. The area was still sore and it hurt to touch but I traced the unfamiliar letters anyway. Soiled. No one but the people involved in this case and those who spoke Hebrew could recognize the phrase.

  But I knew what it meant and the thought that some part of that man would forever be on my body sickened me.

  Detective Sheldon stooped down. His wrinkles seemed especially exaggerated in the harsh light. “Ms. Hunter, when you’re up to it, we’d like to get a statement.”

  “She’s been through hell, Officer.” Carlos snapped. “Can’t you give her a minute?”

  “It’s okay,” I sniffed and wiped the tears.

  “Don’t move.” Carlos cautioned.

  “You can stay right here.” Detective Sheldon said with more kindness than I’d expected. He brought a notebook from his pocket and rested it against his knees. “Just tell me what happened.”

  I told him the details that I remembered but after five minutes, Carlos set his foot down and insisted that I get out of there. A few minutes later, I was strapped in his car.

  “How did you find me?” I asked, closing my eyes in exhaustion.

  Carlos sent me a worried glance. “The police found strains of Prezidone in Essence’s body. It’s a drug that leaves no trace. Usually.”

  “Is that how you found him?”

  He nodded. “They followed the clue to the drug stores in San Pedro, linked the purchase to a Ramero Stoker, a runaway from the asylum in the city. It was easy to link him to an old property in his name next to the Black Lagoon.” He ran a hand through his hair, “but we almost didn’t reach you in time.”

  I nodded weakly and leaned on Carlos as we walked into his house. “How much did it cost you to get that information?”

  He shook his head. “I took out another loan.”

  His words made me smile. I was glad that I’d taken Carlos up on his offer to crash with him. I needed to be with someone I could trust.

  Carlos helped me get settled in the bedroom I’d used that morning. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He said, squeezing my hand.

  When he turned to leave, I called for him. “Carlos?”

  “Yeah?” He whirled aro
und, achingly handsome in the glare of the hall light.

  “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

  “I’m sorry,” he ducked his head and pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Manuel…”

  “No,” I shook my head. “I don’t want Manuel.” I pushed off the bed, seeing things clearly for the first time in a long time. “I want you.”

  He stared at me and then slowly nodded. I made room for him on the mattress. Carlos held me in his arms and it was only then that I was able to sleep.

  Epilogue

  “Mommy,” my daughter climbed onto my lap and pressed a hand to my tattoo. “What does that mean?” Her innocent eyes traced the letters.

  I smiled softly. April had been asking a ton of questions lately. I figured a query about my tattoo was coming.

  “It’s a word in Hebrew,” I began hesitantly.

  She leaned forward, eager to learn more. I smiled, overcome by my love for her. Smoothing her tawny hair away from her face, I looked into her light brown eyes as they twinkled with intelligence. She was so beautiful and so innocent; did she need to know about this now?

  When I hesitated, she narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Is it something bad?”

  Even at eight years old, my daughter was incredibly perceptive.

  I sighed, recalling my days on the stage when I’d danced in nightclubs for a living. That had been so long ago, it felt like another lifetime. I’d left my stripping gig behind ten years ago because it no longer held the same appeal. And yeah, a bit of it had to do with Stoker and his insanity, but most of it had come from me. I didn’t regret my time there but I also didn’t regret leaving when I did.

  April shook my arm, “Mommy?”

  I smiled at her. “In the Hebrew language… it stands for ‘soiled’.”

  She scrunched her nose. “What does that mean?”

  “Dirty.”

  “Dirty?” April giggled. “That makes no sense.”

  “Well, when your mommy was younger, she used to do things that a lot of people didn’t respect.”

  “What did you do?” April widened her eyes.

  I shook my head. My baby wasn’t ready for the details yet. Maybe when she was older. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “If it means that you’re dirty, why didn’t you take it off?”

  “Because this doesn’t define Mommy anymore.” I hugged her close. “You and your little brother do.”

  “And Daddy?”

  “Yes,” I smiled. “And Daddy.”

  “Did somebody call for me?” The front door slammed shut and Carlos stepped into the living room. He was dressed in his usual ‘lecturer’ outfit of khaki pants and a button-down shirt.

  “Hey,” I stood to my feet and kissed him on the lips. He held me around the waist and kissed me back with such enthusiasm, I nearly dropped to my feet.

  After Stoker I decided to leave the club. I wanted to focus on turning my interest in real estate and investments into a business as profitable as stripping. Carlos had waited patiently for me to figure out my own life. I’d kicked him to the Friend Zone, an area that he couldn’t escape for many years.

  Finally, on my twenty-sixth birthday, Carlos told me to get over myself because he loved me and he wanted to marry me. After hurling a few choice words – and a little name calling – I said ‘yes’. We’d gotten married and had April the next year. Carlos Jr or ‘Juney’ had come two years ago.

  I was amazed by my love for Carlos and angry that I’d spent so much time following after Manuel. Carlos’s character and values were impenetrable. I knew I could trust him. He often reminded me that everything happens for a reason, but my annoyance at my choices could not be denied.

  Carlos released me to give April some love. I smiled at the picture they made. April was going to do great things. What Stoker had tried to take away in death, my daughter had brought back with love and hope.

  This was April Kelly’s legacy. This was my legacy.

  “Juney’s napping?” Carlos inquired as he kissed April’s temple.

  “Yup. He’s out like a light.” We walked back to the sofas and sat down. “What were my two favorite ladies talking about?”

  “Mom’s tattoo!” April shouted.

  Carlos’s eyebrows threatened to disappear into his hairline.

  “I told her what it means.”

  He coughed. “Did you now?”

  “It means ‘dirty’, but Mom’s not dirty anymore.” April said with authority. “She’s got us and she bathes.”

  “Really? I think I smell something…” Carlos sniffed the air.

  I swatted at his arms and rolled my eyes. “So mature, Professor.”

  “Well, I try.” He winked. “I’m going to go check on Juney.”

  I nodded as April clambered onto the sofa with the remote. Her favorite show came on around this time. Carlos emerged from the back room with Juney. Our two year old, normally a bucket load of energy, was still limp from his nap.

  “Hi, baby,” I cooed and held out my arms as Carlos transferred the little boy into my lap.

  “Yay! Diego!” Carlos sat beside me and stared at the television screen as a short, Hispanic boy delivered a lesson on panda bears.

  I shook my head and smiled as my thoughts led me back to April’s question. It had been a long road to find peace after being kidnapped by Stoker. A part of that peace came from cutting my ties with my wild lifestyle and creating a legacy that I wanted to pass down to my children.

  That’s where Stoker had gotten it wrong. In his crazed mind, his solution to the violence and immorality in the world was adding more violence. He’d missed one little detail. Every person, no matter how far gone down their paths, was worth saving. Every life had purpose.

  It was a lesson I’d learned the hard way, but one I would treasure forever.

  THE END

  A Word from the Author

  Hello! Thank you for coming along on this journey with me. If you enjoyed this story, I would be honored if you would let others know by writing a review on Amazon. Word of mouth is important for an author’s success. Thank you for your support!

  I would love to hear from you at corcorozal@yahoo.com

  You can also follow me on IG: Nia Arthurs @nia_bks and Twitter: @niaarthurs

  Other Books By This Author

  Available on Amazon…

  The Taming Series

  Taming Mr. Jerkface

  Taming Mr. Charming

  Taming Mr. Know-it-all

  Taming Mr. Darcy

  The Seven Realms Series

  Genesis

  Revelations

  The Tree of Knowledge (coming soon)

  Love & Reggae

  Amid the Noise

  Count Me In

  Buffalo Soldier

  The Boyfriend By Series

  Boyfriend By Blackmail

  Boyfriend By Midnight

  Boyfriend By Design

  Confessions of A Church Girl

  Glass Houses

  Fitting In

  Standing Out

  Standalone

  Whiter Than Snow

  Scarlet

  Married By Science

  Love In Many Shades

  Cece & David

  Cece & David 2

  Cece & David 3

  Cece & David 4

  Read on for an excerpt from the first book in the Love In Many Shades Series:

  Cece & David

  Belizean Creole Glossary

  A chips – Belizean reference to a bag of chips

  Anime – Japanese animation

  Carib – A group indigenous to the Caribbean

  Chetumal or “Chet” – a city in Mexico that Belizeans often travel to for the variety of shops and cheaper wares

  Cut her eye - Glaring or looking at someone with the eyes narrowed and looking to the side instead of looking straight ahead at the intended person. Often done to show displeasure

  Dalla chips, biscuit – an item that costs a
little more than a dollar, seen as very expensive to seven year olds with a limited allowance

  Garifuna - mixed-race descendants of West African, Central African, Island Carib, and Arawak people. One of the cultures in Belize.

  Junior college – Belizean high school students normally graduate secondary school between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. Junior college allows them to mature and gain their Associates degree so that they can find jobs or pursue further education

  Pibil – roasted pig marinated in seasonings and cooked underground shredded and garnished with diced onion sauce, eaten with avocado and fresh tortillas

  Salbutes – fried corn dough disc slapped with shredded stewed chicken meat in gravy and topped with finely cut cabbage, pepper, and jalapenos

  PROLOGUE

  The dust rose like a wave, covering each of the children racing about in a coat of fine sand. The shouts and giggles of little girls playing “running race” from one end of the small school yard to the other rang across the green buildings standing sentinel over the burgeoning generation of future teachers, lawyers, and prime ministers. The voices of little boys stooping in the dirt and shooting tiny balls that glittered in the sunlight carried over to the classrooms a few feet away.

  Far from the noise and the activity outside, seven-year-old David Kim remained indoors with a book open before him. Every few minutes, he turned the pages of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button by F. Scott Fitzgerald, murmuring at the revelations each chapter revealed. His slanted eyes were hidden behind the thick volume and only the top of his thick black head could be seen by passersby.

  “David.” A voice sounded, but David was in another world and so paid the person no heed.

  “David,” His teacher, Mrs. Foster, stooped to David’s level and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up with a startled grunt. Mrs. Foster’s kind brown eyes peered into his. “Wouldn’t you like to go outside and play with the other children?” She inquired.