The sound of water from the bathroom created a vivid image in Luc's mind: A vermillion ocean with endless folds of white waves sloshing to the sky. It could be a place that belonged to one cobwebbed corner of his memory or a product of his imagination.

Who knew?

"Mouse," Luc leaned on the door and knocked with his eyes closed. "What are you doing? You've been in there for quite a while."

He didn't want what happened last time to happen again. Her breathing answered him through the wood, loud and clear but also arrhythmic. Was it anger? Fear? Or something else? Luc couldn't tell.

She just got hurt so easily.

A loud clatter cut his train of thought into a million pieces and pushed him through the door.

Inside, the girl stood amidst a cloud of steam, scrubbing something in the sink with her dear life. Her hands disappeared in the murky, chestnut-colored water as her wet hair stuck to the back of her thin sleeping gown.

Like a river of sunset.

Luc didn't mean to stare.

The girl whipped her whole body around to look at him with her misty eyes. A split second of surprise morphed into a scowl on her face. Her left hand lifted out of the water to roll into a fist. The girl then turned fully to face Luc. That was when he noticed a trail of blood trickling down her leg.

"You are hurt." He took a few steps forward before stopping.

Luc sucked in a lungful of the moist, warm air. It was incredible how they had used the same soap and water, but somehow, she gave out a completely different scent. Sweet and light, it reminded him of an Orange Pipin orchard in its blooming season, but it was also mixed with a distinctive metallic smell.

Luc felt tremors run through every cell of his Earthly body, from the top of his head down to his toes. His fingertips were tingling with euphoria—much stronger and more exhilarating than anything mortal stimulation or vice could offer. It had always willed his hands and moved his legs to commit unredeemable acts in the past.

Luc missed the taste of fear and pain exuding from a human.

"Little Mouse?" He tilted his head and reached out with his hand.

The girl's wet copper locks felt a little like seaweed. Her hand flew up in an instant, and a slap landed squarely on his cheek. It could've hurt. The sound echoed in the space between them. Luc chuckled while backing up a little with both hands raised.

The girl squinted her eyes like a feral cat who was ready to strike again, and Luc anticipated that much.

"Come. Let me see." He reached out again, this time, to her bony wrist.

The girl yanked away as if his index and middle finger were hot coals. She clenched her teeth and pressed her legs together. Her body trembled slightly. A single drop of liquid escaped her eye to land on the floor.

Luc's mind was a marshland. His eyes traveled from the perfect tiny dot on the floor back to the girl's face.

She had been a force of nature. She had screamed and cried, but never consciously. Never if she could help it. She'd rather bite, kick, and scratch. That was her language.

Luc was no stranger to tears. He had been the cause and the receiving end of a few. They were salty liquids that acted as a cleaning and moisturizing solution for human or animal eyes. For humans, it could be an indicator of sadness, pain, fear, or joy.

This wasn't 'joy'.

"Little Mouse," Luc sighed. "You're obviously bleeding. We need to take care of it before it gets infected. Let me just take a look."

The girl slowly moved her head from side to side. Very good. A reaction, not what he was looking for, but a reaction nonetheless.

Luc sucked his teeth and pulled her toward him.

The girl screamed and turned around to grab the side of the sink with both her hands. Water splashed out, drenching the front of her gown. Luc wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her away from the sink while prying her fingers open, one by one, with his free hand. He craned his neck to take a better look into the sink.

It was some sort of garment.

He moved her aside, using his body as a barrier between her and the sink, and fishing the item out of the water. As soon as Luc lifted the stained fabric to his eye level, the girl froze. Her protest completely stopped. As if life had been drained out of her, she took a sharp breath and stumbled backward.

"Mouse, are you alright?" Luc turned to the girl. "We will fetch Doctor Harold in a bit. Oh, damn it... Albert is not here. Don't worry. I'll go to the doctor's place. It's not far from here. Let's clean you up first."

Luc lifted the girl by her elbows, but she refused to stand up while screaming, "No!" with all her might.

"What is the matter with you? What do you mean by 'No'? You know Doctor Harold. He's good. He won't hurt you. You will be better."

The girl shook her head and cried louder. Her crying put Luc in great confusion. He glanced at the sink, the girl, and then the sink again. A slither of enlightenment slowly poured into him.

She was a female. In adolescence.

"Oh," he mumbled to himself. "Oh."

***

Dry branches whipped and scratched against the window, startling Aida. Her mind had been a mess since the night before. She watched the grey sky slowly turn blush while pulling the lace trim of her sleeve absent-mindedly. The flame crackled in the fireplace, pulling her back to reality every now and then. The Pale Demon had put enough wood in the fireplace before he left.

It felt strange—seeing him in that light, scrambling with terrycloth, flannel, and boiled water while looking slightly more flustered and nervous than she was. Aida sighed and sank into the big pillow. Embarrassment was an understatement. It had subsided, but her cheeks still burned red hot as she remembered the hush conversation in the hallway before the two men left the house. She didn't need to understand it to know they were talking about her 'incident'.

Her Haq Sh'har had come. Again, after two months. Aida had almost forgotten about it. She had panicked when changing out of her drawers. It couldn't be. Especially when she was in captivity and in the company of two stranger males.

Aida felt her skin crawl. The rain had started again. The trees were quickly drenched and at the mercy of nature, just like her. She remembered what the pale demon had said, "Don't worry about anything. You're safe. Whatever you need, just tell me... You must tell me."

Simple as that. And frustrating.

She was clean, full, and comfortable. Her lower abdomen was wrapped in a thick woolen belt with a pouch of hot coal. It eased some of her pain. But Aida mourned her old world. And her old self. She shouldn't be here in the first place.

This comfort felt like a price to pay. It corrupted her soul and dulled her will, but it felt good to the bones.

Aida listened to something rustling in the wall. It seemed to happen right inside her brain. Her chest was heavy as if Aida had been buried a thousand feet under the desert hot sand with no one but insects to keep her company. Her head and heart pounded at the same time.

She had not done a single thing to discourage the man from inching closer and digging his claws a little deeper into her.

Was this the end of her so-called fight? This was all she had?

The sparks in his eyes stirred something in Aida when he stood silently by the end of her bed. His whole body was softened by the blue light of dawn. Aida felt a flame licking over her body—the kind that soothed her one minute and burned her to a crisp the next. His voice, echoing in the depth of darkness, lured her into a dreamless slumber. The story about the burning creature should grate her soul, but it didn't. It made her weep instead.

As she thought about it, bitterly, the man who she couldn't stand a second being near had slowly become a staple figure in her days.

A friend.

But how could he?

What did he know about her suffering? About being severed from everything dear and familiar? About being robbed of freedom and dignity?

He didn't. Couldn't. So he was not her friend.

Aida missed home—now more than ever. No one in Aida's family knew that she was here. No one who mattered knew that she was still alive. How could she let them know? She missed Baba, Elouafi, and Rabia. She missed the donkeys, goats, and camels. By this hour back home, she would've already been up and out, taking care of housework, wondering when Baba and Elouafi would come back. Here, Aida had no purpose.

She was as useful as a locust.

All she could do was think and daydream. The men wouldn't come back until twilight, so she had the whole day to do that. Then, Aida would be stuck with him again.

...

She tossed and turned in her laborious nap. The air felt hot and stuffy. Even her feet, which were usually freezing, now were coated in a sheen of sweat. AIda kicked the blanket off.

In her half-asleep state, Aida tried to listen. She couldn't hear a peep from outside. The whole city seemed to disappear. Aida could still hear the grandfather clock downstairs, though. It was the only thing that calmed her heart.

Blood pulsated in her ears. Aida moaned and lifted her eyelids. The room door was still closed. At that moment, she heard some footsteps.

He's home. She celebrated and then forgot what she celebrated. She just knew she must keep her eyes open.

But they refused to listen. After a few struggling minutes, Aida gave up and fell steadily back asleep as smoke filled her room.