Twenty-five

Rian approached the door to the hut with apprehension. He stood some feet away and felt like a fool when he clapped his hands together. It was how one called on a neighbor, but it was ridiculous to wait outdoors for a welcome while someone moaned inside. He steeled himself and walked in, forthright as if the hut were his own home. He called out to the dark corner and the woman called Ava demanded, “Step out of the doorway. Let me see who you are.”

“I’m Rian.” And he stepped forward and smelled blood and sweat and worse. What little the hut held was broken or tumbled.

“You’re late to join in the fun, young one.”

Rian felt the bitterness and rage the woman contained.

“Are you badly hurt?”

“And what is it to you? You’re here to help? Or is that disappointment on your face?”

“I ... would like to help, if I can.”

“You can, if you will.” And the woman’s rage softened ever so slightly. “Come look at me, child. Come look what he’s done to me.”

“I don’t know if I shall withstand it.”

“God,” she moaned. “If I can stand it, then so can you.” She demanded again, “Come close.”

Rian pushed aside some broken glass with his shoe and came to the side of the bed where Ava lay in a bloody cloth. She was beaten, he saw. Her eye was blackened and swollen. Rian could hardly breathe. He whispered, “He burned you, too.”

“How would you know?” She became enraged again, nearly spitting, “Did he send you? Did that fucker send you to stare at what he’s done? Goddamn right, he burned me! He...”

“Please!” and Rian knelt beside her and he took her hand. “Please, calm yourself.”

“Who are you that you leer at me? Goddamn you, too!” And she turned her body away from him. Rian felt the wincing pain.

“What do they call you?”

“They call me whore. What else would bring you here?”

“I came with a copper, that’s true. It shames me now.”