Megan Disgraced

by Viktor Redreich

  "Sorry," she mumbled. He was going to get mad at her, she was sure of it. He was going to hurt her or kick her out or call her stupid for making such a mess of his bathroom. But instead, to her surprise, he rolled up his sleeves, stepped towards it, and pulled out the plug before going under the sink to pull out a few cleaning supplies.

  "You really need this, huh?” He remarked as he wiped off the last of the grime on the edges of the bath. He had a slightly amused smile on his face, and Megan managed to smile, too. The gesture felt a little strange on her face, but in a good way. Like it was meant to be there.

  "I think a shower might be better for you, huh?” He suggested. She glanced away from him. There was no way in hell she could work that shower.

  "I don’t know if I can," she admitted. "I couldn’t...standing up before, that was the hard part. I felt all dizzy and out of it."

  "I could help you, if you want," he suggested. Her stomach dropped, and she supposed that her shock must have shown on her face because he held his hands up at once in defense.

  "Only if you feel comfortable with it," he promised her. "I’ll get out right now if you don’t want that, really. You want me to go?”

  She stared at him for a moment. More than anything, she was surprised – surprised to find that the answer to that question was no. She didn’t want him to go anywhere. She wanted him to help her. It had been so long, so very long, since she had allowed someone else to take care of her, that she supposed there would be no harm in allowing this man a little time to do just that.

  "Okay," she breathed, and her voice was wracked with a tension that she would have expected from someone picking the right suitcase with a million dollars in it.

  "Okay, you get in the bathtub, stand up, and then I’ll get you cleaned up," he replied, and he averted his eyes as she dropped her towel to the ground. She dived at once behind the shower curtain, the cool air prickling on her skin, her heart pounding. She had never been so vulnerable in front of someone by choice before. Was this was it felt like? Terror mixed with a little exhilaration?

  "I’m in the tub," she told him, and her voice was still a little squeaky around the edges. She tried to calm herself. There was no way he was going to mistake this for something sexual. She was utterly unattractive at that moment, with her cut-off hair, her body all sore and bony, still covered in a hell of a lot of dirt and probably still smelling like it too.

  "Great," he replied gently, and, a moment later, he pulled back the curtain and looked upon her naked body.

  It wasn’t a sexual gaze that he met her with, but one of clear and obvious concern. It was written all over his face, the shock of seeing her that way. She felt bad for putting him in that position, but she couldn’t much help the state she was in right then. She needed his help more than anything, and at least she could be sure that there was no questionable intent behind his actions. If a man could look upon a naked woman with anything other than lust, he must see her as something other than a sexual object; how long had it been since she any man in her life had looked at her that way?

  "Here," he murmured, putting a hand on her hip to steady her and reaching across to put the hot water on. A moment later, the shower came smoothly to life, pouring deliciously warm water down that slithered across her every inch and soothed her every pain. For a moment, she closed her eyes and just let it happen; the warmth of his hand, the warmth of the water.

  The comfort of it. The pure, human comfort, and how long it had been since she had felt that last. It was so intense that, for a moment, she could almost feel herself choking up with the sheer emotion of it, but she managed to bite it back. Even though she was naked in front of this man, the thought of letting him see her cry was more than she could handle. That was more than she was willing to give him, at least so soon.

  He grabbed the shower gel and stood up to face her, slowly massaging it into her shoulders and down her arms. He got her to turn around, and let the suds pour over her back next. She was surprised at how comfortable it felt to have his hands on her, had half-expected herself to flinch away without meaning to, but she found that his firm, gentle touch was everything that she needed right then. It was strange, to have put so much trust in someone else, but a relief, too, knowing that she didn’t have to rely on herself even just for the length of time it would take for him to clean her off.

  He moved down her body carefully, skipping over the parts of her that were a little too intimate for this encounter, and then down her legs and to her feet. Gently, he took them in his hands one at a time, rubbing his thumbs over her aching soles. She watched him as he went, and she found that she was wracked with tension, waiting for him to make the move that would tell her that she had been right about him all along, that she had reason to fear him just the same way she feared every man she came across.

  But, to her surprise, he...he didn’t. He cleaned her gently and almost tenderly, but not once did even a flicker of want seem to pass through his eyes for her. Which was a relief, first and foremost; the relief that she could trust this man, because if she could be in front of him stark naked without him trying to put the moves on her, then she knew that she had nothing to be afraid of. She had spent so long fearing so many men, but maybe, just maybe, this one was different.

  By the time that she was done, her skin was perfumed lightly with the scent of coconut, and she could actually see the shape of her body beneath all the dirt and grime that had built up there. She could hardly believe that it was hers, not really – it had been so long since she had looked upon it that it seemed as though it must have belonged to someone else. Her stomach was all but concave, her hip-bones jutting out uncomfortably from under her paper-thin skin. She was shivering, even despite the hot water, not an inch of fat on her body to keep her warm.

  "Here," he murmured, and he rose to his feet and wrapped her in a towel quickly; for a moment, his arms were around her, and she felt a surge of warmth and want towards him. But she put that swiftly down to his kindness and nothing more, and gathered herself as best she could once more. It was just because it had been so long since anyone had given her this sweetness. Of course she would feel some affection for him.

  "The spare bedroom is through here," he told her, and he guided her through to another room – the light was off, but when he flicked it on, her eyes fell on a giant bed that looked like an enormous marshmallow.

  "I know it’s not much," he told her apologetically. "But I hope it’ll do for the night."

  She nodded. It was all she could think to do. It had been such a long time since she had seen a bed like this that she was utterly blown-away by how perfect it was, the pillows plump and white, the covers thick and homey.

  "I’ll get you some clothes and you can get dressed," he told her, and with that, he slipped out and left her in the room alone once more. Running her hand over the covers, she tried to come to, to pull herself from the dream that she must have been having because there was no way at all that this could be real. But she was still here. Still here after all. Which meant that this might just have been happening, after all.

  He returned with the clothes and left them on the end of the bed, and placed a cup of tea that he had made for her on the bedside table. The steam curled up from it, the scent of it filling the room, and she felt tears prick her eyes as she looked upon it. She knew it was ridiculous to get emotional about something as small as a cup of tea, but she couldn’t remember the last time that someone had brought her one without expecting something in return.

  "You get some rest," he ordered her firmly. "If you need anything, I’m going to be in the living room, alright? I’ll sleep there so you can find me if you need me."

  She nodded, and opened her mouth to reply to him – but, for a moment, she found the words sticking there, so unused to being spoken that they didn’t know how to take shape. And then, at last, she managed to get them out.

  "Dravid," She murmured to him. "Thank you."

  They felt a little strange
coming out of her mouth, and she wasn’t sure that he really believed what she was saying to him right then, but he smiled anyway.

  "No problem," he replied, and he sounded like he meant it. With that, he pointed to the bed and raised his eyebrows at her.

  "Now, you get some rest," he told her. "I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

  "Alright," she agreed, and with that, he shut the door behind him and left her alone in the bedroom.

  Megan perched down on the edge of the bed, reached for the cup of tea, and tried to hold back her tears of relief.

  Chapter 4

  Bad people do bad things

  Dravid came to with a start the next morning, almost falling off the couch where he had been sleeping the whole night through; he often rested there, when his mind was running too fast for him to get any sleep in his own bed. But last night, that had been about looking out for the girl in the guest bedroom, just in case she should wake in the night and need anything from him. He would have slept on the hard wooden floor if that was what it took to get her feeling safe.

  She had been so jumpy the night before that he was surprised she had actually agreed to stay the whole night through. Glad, of course, but surprised. Every time he touched her, every time he spoke to her, he could see the tension and resignation written all over her face, like she was waiting for him to show his true colors and make his true desires known to her at last. He hoped that she had managed to get some sleep; getting to his feet, he resolved to go in and check on her, make sure that she was alright and that she hadn’t climbed out the window or something during the dark hours.

  He gently pushed the door open and peered around it – there she was, still sleeping in the bed, her arms tossed wide as though she was reveling in the chance to take up as much space as possible. In the light of day, with the sun trailing in through the window beside her, it was hard for him not to be a little shocked at the sight of her in front of him.

  She looked as though she had been constructed from tissue paper; her skin was so pale and so thin that he felt like he could have poked through it with a finger had the urge struck him. Her face was sunken against her bones, and he wondered how long it had been since she had last eaten a decent meal before he had taken her out the night before. How long had she starved, waiting for someone, anyone to come along and give her something to eat? His heart ached as he imagined it. He had known struggle in his life, of course, but never like that, and he could see the toll that it had taken on her written all over her face. She was young, couldn’t be older than her early twenties, but it was as though she was carrying the weight of a hundred years of this life on her shoulders. He wished he could have done something to lift it for her, but for now, he decided that the best thing was to let her sleep.

  Heading to the kitchen, he made her up a flask of tea to replace the empty cup she must have finished last night before she went to sleep, and stacked a few cookies carefully next to it on her bedside table. Scribbling out a quick note on the pad he kept next to the phone, he let her know that he was going to be away at work for most of the day, but that she was welcome to stay as long as she liked to rest and get warm again. He stuck it to the table, took one last look at her, and left for the advertising agency where he worked.

  Dravid breezed through the morning round of brainstorming sessions, a client briefing and a budget meeting with senior management. Usually the most mentally switched-on man in the room, Dravid’s heart wasn’t on his work that day. It was too weighed down the unexpected new burden of worrying about a homeless girl asleep in his guest room while was at the office. He couldn’t exactly tell anyone else what had happened; he wasn’t sure that they would have understood it, anyway, but if they had been there and if they had seen the look on her face when he had ruined that little shelter that she had made for herself, then they might have been able to wrap their heads around it.

  He cut out before rush hour and headed back to his apartment, half-expecting to find her gone with no hint of her presence left behind to confirm that it had been real and not some intense hallucination he’d had for twelve hours last night. But, instead, when he headed through to the guest bedroom to check on her, there she was – still fast asleep. The flask he had left by the bedside remained untouched, and the cookies hadn’t been eaten, either. She hadn’t woken up. She was curled into a small ball at the center of the bed, the covers pulled up over her so only her small scrub of dark hair was poking out from underneath it. It would almost have been cute, actually, if he hadn’t felt so concerned for her. She still looked so weak, so ghostly, as though she could blink out of existence at any moment.

  Megan’s eyes flickered open as he watched her, as though she could sense his presence nearby and wanted to make sure that he wasn’t up to anything she didn’t want him to be. When her eyes locked on his, blurry around the edges, he felt a pang for her – she was probably anemic, maybe jaundiced, whatever it was, there was clearly something really lacking in her and he prayed that he would be able to find some way to get her back on her feet again.

  "Do you want something to eat?" He asked her, and she nodded blearily, not able to come up with words so soon after waking. He headed through to the kitchen to make her some toast with peanut butter, along with another cup of tea since the last one had probably gone stone cold by now. When he returned, she was chugging it down like it was the only water she had seen in months, and all the cookies were gone. She just about managed to prop herself upright before she started to chow down on the food that he had brought her, her hands bringing it to her mouth so quickly that they were almost a blur.

  Sitting there, at the end of the bed, he tried to think about what he was going to do with her. He wasn’t set up to take care of her long-term, and he got the feeling that she wouldn’t let him, anyway, but he couldn’t just kick her back out on to the street and hope for the best. She needed his help, at least a little of it, and he started looking up potential new homes for her on his phone.

  There were a handful of homeless shelters in the city and, even though he felt a little guilty for even thinking of kicking her out, he knew that he wasn’t equipped to give her all the care that she needed. God knows how much medical attention and consistent support she was going to need to get herself back on her feet. He had a life of his own, and, much as he would have liked to look after her more, he knew that he just didn’t have the time or the energy or the skills to do it.

  "You’re going to get rid of me, aren’t you?" She asked him, and she sounded equal parts fearful and resigned, as though she’d known this was coming all along and was just glad that they were finally going to get to the part where she would understand his motivations. She had exuded so much confusion since she had walked into this place, since he had cleaned her and fed her and let her rest as long as she wanted, and it made his heart ache to think that she had been denied that for so long.

  "I think there are some places near here that would be better for you," he told her gently. "But there’s no rush, I don’t want to-"

  "No, I want to go now," she told him bluntly, and she swung her legs out of the bed and placed them on the ground below. "If you want me out of here, I don’t want to take up any extra space..."

  "That’s not what I meant," he protested, but she was clearly already steeling herself to be kicked out. There was nothing that he could do to stop her, and, though he felt guilty for finding somewhere new for her, it was for the best. She couldn’t stay here. He didn’t know what he was doing with her.

  She was wearing the clothes that he had laid out for her the night before, and he didn’t have the heart to ask for them back; she could keep them, as far as he was concerned. He let her take a pair of his slippers, too, just so that her feet wouldn’t be bare. She could hardly bend down to put them on, so Dravid had to intervene to make sure that she could slip the heels over her feet properly.

  "Where are we going?" She asked him, as he led her out to the car; she climbed into the back seat
, without so much as waiting for the encouragement to get in the front. He supposed that was what she was used to; being in the back, far from where anyone could see her.

  "There’s a homeless shelter near here," he explained. "They have a space free, it said on their website. It’ll be safe and warm for you for tonight, and they should have some food there, too."

  Falling silent for a long moment, Dravid could sense that she wasn’t exactly happy about the thought of this. He grimaced. He didn’t have much of a choice. He couldn’t just keep her in his house; what would people think, that he was just collecting women off the street to do God knows what to them? It wasn’t ideal, but if it would keep her safe for the time being, that’s all he cared about. It’s what she deserved.

  Dravid took her to the shelter and pulled to a halt outside. She hesitated for a moment before she got out, and then, finally, put her hand on the door to climb out.

  "You’ll be alright, won’t you?” Dravid blurted. He needed to hear that she was going to be fine. Even if she didn’t believe it, he needed to hear it.

  "Yeah, of course," she replied. And she managed to give him a smile. It lit up her whole face, and for a moment, she was so dazzlingly beautiful, that his breath caught in his throat for a moment and he had to remind himself that this woman needed his help, not his attraction.

  Once she was out of the car, he watched her in the rearview mirror as she walked to the door. He had done his part. She was safe now, safe where she needed to be, and he could be happy that he had done the right thing. So why did he feel that rough sting of doubt at the back of his mind as he pulled off? He tried to calm himself down, tried to get the panic out of his head, but then, when he shot one last look back at her, he realized that she was walking away from the shelter instead of towards it.