Walking down the lonely road he had engraved in his memory since childhood, he remembered the soothing sounds of the cicadas and the bloated chirruping of frogs of the times when he wore enough clothing to cover his genitals. He kept the pace steady and straightened his back, tuning in with his senses he tries to make out what is ahead. He narrows his eyes and squints, trying to focus on the light ahead, his ears shoot up trying to absorb sufficient sound and he breathes steadily, trying to calm his nerves. He felt out of place and perplexed at the sudden tension he was feeling, he’d been walking this road for 22 years and never felt like this. He quickened his pace and with a sly smile he reassured himself that he was strong enough to take any bastard that might come up behind him.

He kept walking for a couple more minutes until he found the treaded path to his house and entered it silently. Locking the doors he put his bag down and his camera too.
He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and went straight to the bathroom; he stripped and climbed in the shower. The cold water soothing his muscles and enveloping him in a cool embrace. He proceeded by scrubbing himself with soap and washing his hair with a strange shampoo he had picked up earlier in the week but hadn’t had time to use. The scent, strange to him made him jolt and open his eyes, to him the red liquid smelled delicious. He poured a small amount to his palm and put his tongue to it, it tasted sweet for a second until it turned bitter, he spat on the shower floor and continued to wash his hair.


He got out of the shower and quickly grabbed for the towel, drying himself off first before he walked on the tiled floor, he put it back on the peg where it was before and walked to his room, feeling extremely comfortable in his nakedness and letting out a sigh of relief as he basked in privacy. He put on some underwear and tucked himself in a silk kimono that a Japanese ex-girlfriend had given him as a late birthday present 2 years ago. The cool silk touched his skin and clinged to the humidity of it. He walked back out to the kitchen and poured himself some lemonade he’d made in the morning when he’d been scouring the house for a few negatives of the “Pedro Vasquez Case” and gave up exhausted and went out to pluck a few lemons from the tree he had in his backyard.

As he put the jar of lemonade back in the fridge he cursed himself as he saw a brown envelope on top of it, labeled in a red marker pen “PVC-NEGS”, how on earth could he miss that? He took the envelope and studied the negatives, a couple of mug shots and a few cadavers, nothing much.

He walked to the armchair he’d left his bag on when he entered the house and put the envelope in it, ready for tomorrow. He then turned to observe the house and give it a 1-10 if it needed cleaning. He pressed his back against the front door and admired his habitat. The teak wood floors, left a small kitchen that faced the living room, with blue painted wood cabinets and a small cupboard filled with an impressive selection of liquor. The living room that focused around a large coffee table he had cut a round hole in the middle, to insert a flower plant that he thought was going to give “cheeriness” to the room looked well. An armchair that faced the kitchen to the left, his dumping ground as he called it was moderately messy as his bag, camera, jacket and random junk filled it. The rest of the sofas were white, unlike the red armchair, and all faced toward the flower plant, a riqui-riqui, or so the locals called it. The walls were painted blue, and the living room faced a massive window-slide sort of thing that gave a clear view of his backyard.

Once he walked to it he slid the window panel and taking two footsteps he halted at the barrier the wooden balcony made. He checked his backyard, still and dark in the night, the banana trees he’d planted all swishing and swaying in the midnight breeze of the Caribbean, the white turtledoves perched on the same branch of the lemon tree, they never seemed to move, those 3 birds, he was never at home in the day so he only observed them at night, when they were sleeping peacefully as he glared at them in envy.

He lay down on the hammock and swung himself lightly of the balcony with his left foot in the rhythm of the breeze. He opened his eyes to observe the turtledoves and realized he had closed them in the first place. As long as he swung himself and there was a breeze the mosquitoes couldn’t bother him, he closed his eyes, never ceasing to swing himself and relaxed. He thought about Julia, the new girl working at the reception desk, how she swung her hips as she walked through the office, or how she bit her voluptuous lips absent-mindedly through the day. How she once caught him watching her and blushed, trying hard not to smile. Whilst he looked down at the paperwork trying to make out that it was a fleeting glance. Julia, he thought. How good she would look lain naked on his bed, his white sheets surrounding her, covering her in a coy yet provocative way, yet still not covering her as they allowed her to show her skin shyly. His pulse gathered pace and he opened his eyes lustily, licking his lips as if savoring a meal to come.

The breeze gained force and he stopped swinging, thinking that it was an unnecessary action. Julia, she’d only been there 2 weeks and he already found himself lusting after her, he wasn’t the only one to be truthful, bets had been made already, the men’s toilet full of laughter as one after another said “I bet you I’ll make her moan faster than any of you, she has blowjob lips, I’m telling you! Hahahaha!” Men could be such pigs sometimes, he was asked to join the bet and he replied swiftly that she wasn’t worth his money, because she had no economic value seeing as she was a human being after all, and flesh and pleasure could not be bought, and that to do so was plain cruelty. The laughter died down and they all changed the topic of conversation, blurred by an unanticipated response and guilt as they thought about the countless times they’d been to whorehouses and the faces of the prostitutes plastered with disgust and vulnerability as they pummeled into them for a 5 minute shag.

Their macho egos too big to realize that she wasn’t a lower creature, she had the same worth and status as them on the human level, and it wasn’t going to change just because she had breasts and lacked a penis.

He dozed for half hour until he heard a whimper; he sat up in the hammock and acquired a small numbing headache due to the rash action of sitting up so quickly. He heard some heavy breathing and suddenly felt vulnerable standing there feeling like an idiot with a kimono on. In his head the person nearby was probably thinking that he was gay as hell. He got inside the house and closed the window panels.

He went straight to his room and looked for a flashlight and resistant clothing, anticipating a long night ahead. He put on a white t-shirt and a strong pair of kakis, he then put on a thick linen shirt and buttoned it quickly, sensing the Caribbean breeze getting cooler by the minute. He put on thick socks and his boots in 2 minutes stat, faster than he thought possible and headed out into his backyard through a door that connected his bedroom to an alcove that had a door giving entrance to his backyard.

He adjusted his eyes to the dark and walked forward slowly, hearing another whimper he tried to follow its direction. Some leaves rustled in the distance and a sigh was let out. He quickly ruled out the possibility of it being a wounded dog and concluded that it was human, whatever the thing out here was, threatening to ruin his calm night. He put the flashlight back in his back pocket and used the light of the bright full moon instead to go by. A sharp intake of breath was made in the darkness to his left and he followed the sound, feeling lured. He then thought if the human was playing a real bad joke or if it was really a dog.

Eyes glinted in the dark and he slowed his step, making shushing sounds, thinking that if it really was a dog then he better be careful. The eyes seemed to follow him readily and wider as he approached, it shuffled and whimpered trying to get away, when he was about 2 meters close to the thing he made out the silhouette of a person, he smelt blood and corroborated that the wounded animal he sought out to find was in fact a wounded person. He kept making shushing sounds and walked up to it, he produced the flashlight and shone it on the person to reveal a pregnant woman, naked for a loincloth and tribal patterns sketched on her skin.

She was covering her face in fear with one hand another wrapped protectively across her womb. “Jesus!” He exclaimed and caught up his breath. He walked up towards her and closed the remaining distance, she tried shuffling away and caught herself in the barbwire fence that surrounded his whole backyard; she grimaced and let out a snarl. Her arm oozing with blood, and he guessed that her back was cut too.

He went straight to her and kneeled by her side, he stayed silent and observant, showing her that he wasn’t dangerous. She stayed tense but stopped trying to run away, her back was against the wall, she knew that, she was tired, hungry, in pain, wounded and defenseless, worst of all she tribe less and pregnant.

He took off his shirt and she thought he was going to lay her, she felt disgusted that he could even do such a thing, seeing as she was wounded and pregnant, ‘man did not care if woman stumbled, they would always take pleasure in them even if they did not consent’, her thoughts echoed in her mind as tears streamed down her face, she couldn’t care anymore. She might as well be quiet and let him have his way, that way; she would not feel as much pain as she would if she struggled. She closed her eyes and awaited the abuse, cornered and vulnerable.

She opened her eyes sharply as she felt his shirt land on her and cover her gently, kept making shushing sounds trying to calm her and she felt relief as she saw no immediate threat. He took her arm and she gave up hope of fighting, seeing as his gentle pull dominated her completely, she realized she was very weak.

He picked her up and she showed no protest, her head hitting hard against his chest and her long hair tangled in his arms. He tried very carefully to keep the shirt on the stranger and feeling pity for the girl, as he soon realized when he had observed her more carefully, he brushed her hair away and proceeded to take up her legs in a gentle manner, observing the deep cut in her thigh.

He went straight to the bathroom instead of the room to get her wounds cleaned up quickly, he was afraid for her life. She had her eyes closed and grimaced when she felt herself lowered on a cold surface, never seeing anything like it before. He turned on the taps, and warm water hit her body, slowly vanishing the dirt that clung to her skin and slowly stinging the cuts she had all over her body. He washed her gently with a cloth and some soap and was careful around the cuts and “private” areas, not wanting to scare her or make her feel threatened, yet feeling like a child for blushing as she looked up at him when he was padding the dirt away on her left inner thigh.

He looked at her and grabbed her hand; he put the cloth he’d been using to clean her and put it in hers, and mimicked the action in the air with his now free hand trying to tell her that she could clean herself. She nodded and proceeded where he was cleaning before, she did it with confidence. He found himself observing and slowly stood up to get out, thinking that what on earth was wrong with him watching a pregnant girl bathe nakedly in front of him.

He looked in the fridge to see if there was any food he could prepare for the girl, and settled on minced meat with fried plantains and rice. Typical Caribbean food, she was bound to like it. He got started in the kitchen and half hour later the food was ready and steaming, plantains took 10 minutes to fry and deserved constant attention. Which was the exact amount of time rice needed to be left alone, and in 20 minutes the minced meat could be cooked. He sighed, he was tired, he was shocked, and he was numb. How did his night end up like this? Tomorrow was the only day he would be off for another week, and he got into this mess whilst trying to seek solace by fantasizing over Julia’s cup size.
He went to the first aid cabinet he had in the alcove and took the whole case with him, antibiotics, bandages, and medical alcohol, everything that could help him cure the girl. He set it on his bed and looked for a towel that she could use to dry herself up when she was finished. He stole a glance in to the bathroom to watch her trying to clean her hair, he sighed and took the towel with him as he made his way to where she was.

She looked startled to see him again; she was enjoying the kindness she was being displayed knowing that this was not going to last long. She’d cleaned herself up and her cuts and wounds were stinging. She’d never experienced the feel of warm water until now. And she’d never been inside such a strange place, with water coming out of walls. She was trying to clean her hair with the cloth but it wasn’t working out.

She held her breath as he lowered himself on the floor again and turned her so she was facing the wall and giving her back to him, he grabbed something that spurted out a red liquid and put it on her hair, it smelt so good that her mouth was melting, her stomach gave a growl in response and he laughed. She stiffened as she acknowledged the sound of his voice and his keen hearing. This explained how he’d been able to find her among the trees in such a breezy and dark night, even though she was trying to be extremely careful.

He was scrubbing her hair with the liquid, which reminded her of the times when her mother would sit with her by the river and wash her hair with the liquid of the yucca root, as they both sat carelessly and without shame in the boulders and large rocks completely naked. The birds chirping and the monkeys passing by, her mother looked up and pointed out “We have to tell the men that there’s good game here.” The memory of monkey meat made her stomach growl in response again. He touched the wall again and stopped the water coming out. He then wrapped her in some sort of warm cloth and started drying her and her hair. He then picked her out, wrapped her in the cloth and took her to a bed.
She was stiff with surprise at how gentle he was being.

She couldn’t protest as she was too weak to even walk. As he lowered the girl into the bed he felt her tense up and thought nothing of it, he then turned her on her back and started going over her wounds, her belly wasn’t that big to make her lie on her front be such an impediment. He then covered her buttocks as he felt that they were too exposed and that if he was in her position he’d feel vulnerable. He cleaned the wounds of the barb wire fence and by the time he was finished with her back and arm she was covered with at least 15 plasters, seeing as they were only cuts, not big but still there nonetheless he saw it would be a waste of bandage. Even though her back looked messy with all the plasters he could not help but noticing the bronze tone her skin had.

He then turned her on her front and got working with the deep cut on her right thigh, he cleaned it, making her wince a couple of times and bandaged her, he made sure to cover her before he could proceed, as uncomfortable as she was comfortable, in her nakedness. Her eyes never left his face and he could feel himself blushing as she did so. He made a mental note to comb her long hair that was in wet disarray ruining the covers of his pillows. He finished the bandaging and sat her up, he then went to the kitchen, served the food that he’d made earlier and took it to her, picking a hairbrush along the way.


She saw him enter the room again and widened her eyes at the appetizing smell of meat. He sat beside her in the bed and fed her with a spoon, she was losing patience with being fed so slowly but bit her lip when she realized that all he’d done was show his kindness and hadn’t even talked to her to demand where she was from or what had happened to her tribe before making a decision of helping her, and that he hadn’t abused her either. She continued eating and finished the bowl quickly, he looked at her in surprise, and went back to the kitchen to get a second serving, and this time when she looked up he had thrust the object in her hand so she could eat by herself, she smiled in return and his eyes softened. As she was eating he grabbed another strange object and started brushing her hair, she could feel it becoming smooth and tame beneath his touch and then tied it up so it was above her neck in a loose bun, and she had never felt her hair off her neck since she could remember.

She finished her dinner and opened her mouth to ease the thirst; strangely he caught on and took the bowl back to the kitchen, coming back with some water. She took it out of his hand gently, as to not look ungrateful and drank. He smiled and frowned. She stopped to see if she had something wrong and he moved away. Coming back to the room with more cloth, he lifted her arms and slowly put on her a t-shirt, he then made her stand up, something she was finding very difficult with her wounded thigh and put on her a pair of sweatpants a girlfriend of his had left a long time ago, it being 3 months when he told her to get out of his house when he found out she was cheating on him.

She looked up at him, unused to too much clothing and stifled a warm breath. With clothes on she looked about 17 years old, her hair now in a bun she looked like any other girl in this town, though more feral than anything, she still had this free animalistic vibe to her every movement, she was probably a pureblood Indian and he would have problems if she didn’t heal quickly or if her tribe came knocking on his door. He realized the extent of his problem and saw the long term consequences ahead. Tomorrow he would call a doctor to get a diagnosis of her health. She sat back on the bed and he saw that it couldn’t be helped; tonight he was going to sleep in the living room.

He woke up to the sound of birds chirping and insect calls. He went straight to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, cleaning himself up and the bathroom too, he picked up the stinking loincloth the girl had took off when she saw the water, and the clothes he’d stripped as soon as he came home, he went to his bedroom to put on a shirt and not finding one he put on his kimono. He put every dirty thing he could find in the washing machine, including the loincloth, which he found quite pointless and proceeded to making breakfast, fruit salad, with the remaining of the lemonade and a ham and cheese toasted sandwich. He thought this breakfast was pretty good.

He then went back to the bedroom and caught a peek at the girl who was sleeping in the fetus position and her smooth, jet black hair covering half of her small, tender face, from what he could make out, she was at least 6 months pregnant, and if not on her 7th yet her womb was still small. This was going to be hell. He quickly rang the doctor and woke up the girl and fed her, he combed her hair once more as his nerves crept up on him. She looked at him stupefied and he stopped, putting her hair in a loose bun and leaving the room perplexed, unable to find a suitable justification of why he was combing her hair like she was some sort of doll.

He sat on the hammock again leaving her to socialize more with his bed covers until the doctor came, he didn’t want to invade her space, even though she was the one who had entered his territory. He sighed uncontrollably until she came; walking slowly to him because of her wounded leg, and tugged on his shirt. He fell of his hammock and stubbed his toe on the balcony, she looked at him terrified and he threw his hands up as if to clarify the situation and show her that he was ok, she then let out a laugh and covered her mouth quickly, fearing a blow to reprimand her behavior, but all he did was laugh as well.

She looked up at him and found herself submerging her gaze into his amber eyes, she couldn’t believe her luck. Not only was he such a gentle healer, he was also a good looking one too.

*Unfinished work* Please comment and give me your overview of the story. Thanks!

Impressum

Texte: All photographs owned by me.
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 25.12.2011

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Widmung:
To Uncle Jim, who had it rough with the girl he rescued! And whose story is written on these e-pages.