Buying the Virgin

Chapter 73: The Girl Who Came Back - Chapter Twenty-Nine

My Master hooks an arm around my waist, his head resting close to mine.

“Charlotte, there’s something I want to ask you, and I promise, that no matter what your answer, I will

not be angry with you, nor will I think less of you. But, I do want to ask this.”

“Master?”

“I’ve been reading the reports on those ‘scandals’ about the home…”

I freeze in his arms.

“…. That day, when you and I first met, when I bought you, were you really a virgin?”

And the tension drains from me…. I twist in his arms to face him.

“Yes Master, I was. You were my first, truly.”

His face floods with relief, but also, puzzlement. “But… how? I’ve read those reports.”

What do I say?

Tell him the truth….

But my words die stillborn, unformed.

Tell him.

My voice faltering, I try to get something out, to give him a reply. “I didn’t look like this then, Master. I

was just a skinny, ginger kid.”

My throat seizes up, and my Master, looking at me, eyes soft, simply holds me tight. He knows I’ve not

told him everything.

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“I’m surprised you didn’t run away,” he says.

Forcing out every word, “I did, several times. The first time, I was eight, but there were others. Every

time, I got caught, and the police took me back.”

My throat tightens again. “The beatings got harder each time. The last one put me in the infirmary.

When the social worker came by, they said I’d been drinking and had fallen down the stairs.”

He rocks me to and fro. “You’re safe now.”

Am I?

“You want to go?” he asks.

“In a while.”

I don’t know what I want. I wander up and down, kicking stones, hugging myself. My Master watches

me calmly, unspeaking.

There is a girl, standing off the roadway, by the rubble and ruin, scantily dressed in cheap finery. Her

skirt is very short, her top, too low-cut to be subtle. She walks up and down the same ten yards, over

and again, posing as cars come past.

As I watch, a car pulls up and a man leans out. The two talk quietly for a moment, then she gets into

the car and they drive off.

As I turn away, I see that my Master has been watching me, his expression unreadable.

“Something bothering you?”

“What’s the difference, Master?”

“Difference?”

“When it comes down to it, what is the difference between what she is doing, and what I did?”

He looks down at me, eyes askance. “The difference, Charlotte, is that she has a return ticket. In an

hour or so, she’ll be back on that road corner, touting for business. You bought yourself a one-way

passage out of here. And…. that passage brought you to me. When you did, finally, return here, it was

on your own terms, and by your own choice.”

I don’t know how to express myself. Something inside me needs to break out.

“He called me a gutter rat.”

“He was wrong,” replies my Master, calmly.

I wave over the rubble. “This is where I came from.”

“There’s no shame in coming from the gutter. Only in wanting to stay there. And you have your eyes

fixed on the stars. Besides, this is not where you came from. You came from somewhere else. You

were simply trapped here while you were a child. Do you know anything about your parents?”

I shake my head.

“You remember them at all?”

“No.”

There is a shout. “Hey, Jenny! Jennifer Conners….”

I don’t want to look, but the shouting continues.

“Hey, Jenny, over here.”

A figure comes running up, panting. He is perhaps my age, but small for that age, wearing cheap, worn

out clothes. His face has that pinched look that often accompanies poverty, and his skin is ageing early;

dry, grey, wrinkling.

As he comes close, he stops, looking apologetic. “Oh! Sorry. My mistake, lady. Thought you were

someone else.”

“That’s alright,” I say.

He shrugs and walks away.

My Master’s face is unreadable. “Someone you know?”

“Jenny once knew him. I’m Charlotte.”

*****

Back at the office, Haswell calls me in. “You too please, James.”

“Did you enjoy your trip out?” he asks, as Francis serves us coffee.

“It was very interesting. It…. gave me a lot to think about.”

“Charlotte, there is something else I would like to ask you, and…” Haswell swipes a hand through his

hair, “…please take this question as it is intended, not as it might come out sounding.”

“Sir?”

“Is there anything else I need to know about you? I am running a multi-billion-dollar corporation here

and, if we accept you as a trainee, you,” he points a long finger at me, “will be representing it. You will

be one of our ambassadors. Do you have any more surprises to spring on me? I don’t want to learn of

anything else after this, that might make my life difficult.”

Freezing over, I droop my head.

Breathe…. Breathe….

“Charlotte! What’s the matter? You’ve gone white as a sheet.” My Master’s voice is sharp.

“Charlotte?” Haswell sits back in his chair, hands folded, watching me carefully. “What is it? Whatever it

is, now is the time to tell me.”

I try to speak, but my mouth is dry. I gulp down a mouthful of the coffee.

My voice is small. I can hardly speak the words. “I killed a man.”

My Master stands abruptly, rising upright from his chair, which scrapes backwards, abrasively.

Richard remains unmoved, simply glancing up at my Master. “Go on.”

Breathe….

“I was fourteen. It was at the home. There was a man… As the girls got older, and sometimes the

boys…. they would take them away….”

My throat seizes up. Unspeaking, Richard pours a tumbler of water, pushing it across the table to me. I

gulp it down, straining for air.

“He took me out, tried to get me into his car. He was telling me that I was being taken to a party

where…. He was enjoying telling me what they were going to do to me. He had a knife, holding it at my

throat to get me into the car. He said that when we got to the party, they were going to pass me around,

and if I didn’t do as I was told, he was going to… to fuck me with the knife, and enjoy doing it……”

I am panting hard, struggling with my words, as the nightmare replays in my head.

“…. But I struggled and got the knife from him. I stabbed him, and I ran. I was so scared. I didn’t know

what to do. I just ran and kept running. When they caught me again, a few days later, they said he was

dead.”

Richard’s face is expressionless. “And after that?”

“They kept me by myself for a while; not in the dorm with the other girls. I’m not sure how long it was. It

was dark all the time…”

“They put you in solitary confinement, in the dark?”

I nod, gulping, but my words are unstoppable now. Locked away for so many years, they tumble out.

“Yes. There were cellars in the home. They used them as punishment rooms for us. Later, they said I

was being sent away, to somewhere else. They didn’t say where, but it was the farm, where my foster

family are now.”

“And you were treated well there?”

“Yes, they’re good people. I was safe. And there were animals: dogs, horses, chickens. I could do what

I wanted: ride the horses, walk. And the school was great. I didn’t get on well with the family though. I

think they found me a bit much to handle. I was pretty wild by then…. “

My Master interrupts. “Charlotte, you told me you had been married….” Richard looks at him with a

startled glance. “…. an unconsummated marriage… was that true?”