Nineteen years later
Jemima Jones

And the loan shark never touched me.

Because surprisingly enough, I was able to fool the loan shark for nineteen years that I had an issue of blood. He never caught me off guard which made him unlicensed to have his way with me because he didn't like to sleep with unclean women.

But I was made to suffer for that unsatisfied desire in so many other ways. He knew I had a special love for children because I always wished to have children of my own. So he would deliberately have me witness his battering of children slaves, pulling out their eyes from their eye sockets with hot forks and tearing their limbs apart.

I witnessed it all so much that each scene lived rent-free in my mind and the images spilled over into the dreams I had every night.

The loan shark didn't do much to hurt me physically but he made sure to destroy me mentally. He made me lose my mind and it was far worse. I always found myself wishing to save those poor children but every day, the loan shark proved to me that I would never able to do so.

Sometimes, he even dared me to try, and afterward, he would molest me publicly for daring his authority.

I didn't know what offense I committed that led me to such a hellhole. My life flipped from manageable from hell that burned with sulfur and brimstone and I never got the explanation I deserved. It was just expected of me to endure everything that came my way.

Endurance.

That trait could not be applied universally because it lost its applicability in a situation like mine. I lost my mind before I could even manage to endure and hold on to that iota of normalcy that was left in me.

I walked like a normal person but my sanity had been tainted. My mind had already been programmed to see a child slave being crucified upside down with a pot of fire underneath to burn their brains off. I was expected to have a cold heart whenever I came back from scrubbing the walls of a mysterious den only to see a child being thrown into the river to be eaten by crocodiles and alligators. I was expected to turn a blind eye to those things.

If the loan shark heard a slight whimper, an exclamation, or a gasp from my lips, he would strip me of my under skirts and try to touch my vagina to see if it was really bleeding. Although I was always able to show him that I was unclean, I couldn't help but feel like anything.

I didn't want my nightmares and painful recollections to be tripled by a monster lying with me. There was no night in all my nineteen years of slavery that I didn't spend in painful, draining, bitter tears. It never got better.

Every day, I found myself wishing I could have been home even if victor was sleeping with another woman. I just wanted to sleep on a bed with pillows and blankets. Victor always treated me like I didn't exist but he never treated me like an intruder. I had a room of my own back in the house. I had a shelter from the cold and the heat.

I could eat a balanced meal. I could do my laundry.

I found myself praying to God for an option that ordinarily wasn't good for me but at that moment, it was the light at the end of the gory tunnel. It was ten times better than what I was going through.

The loan shark obeyed his temperaments all the time. Sleeping in a filthy dungeon was never even guaranteed. One fateful night, he made me sleep out in the open, on the fields when I meddled in his business of child-lynching.

That particular afternoon, the loan shark flung a seven-year-old boy from the penthouse of his castle and I just happened to catch the boy in my arms right before the sound of his skull cracking open on the ground could be heard.

The joy I felt from being able to save one of those poor children that afternoon knew no bounds but the loan shark made me sleep outside on the fields that night. Rain fell, thunder hailed and every night creature made its distinctive sounds. I felt creeping creatures creep on my skin even.

I couldn't seek shelter but I didn't bother to do so, because that night, I managed to sleep with the achievement of saving a child and it was far better than managing to sleep with images of dying children flooding my mind in those filthy dungeons.

I wasn't even allowed to wash my uniform most times. He made me wear the same clothes with the stench from my body fluids. He didn't even consider the fact that I was unclean and on my 'period'. He made me strip in the daylight in the presence of many other slaves.

My body was a commodity and he made me feel worthless without having to sleep with me.

I started to adore the loan shark's son when I saw how he would always lookout for a particular little girl. I didn't even mind whatever his motive was but I envied the fact that he could take care of a little girl without having to suffer for it when it was something I hoped for so many years.

Whenever I walked by and saw him sharing food with her, I would cry my way back to the dungeon, wishing I had someone to look out for. That would have made my survival at the castle, a lot less of an impossibility.

Nineteen years of my life and my youth had been wasted. I was going to be forty years old the following year but there would be nothing worth the celebration. My heart was filled with too many wounds.

Something about life is that when your situation is about to change, it comes in the most unexpected of all moments when all possibilities have been cut short and this change of situation can go both ways; either negatively or positively.

Your life is in this direction one minute and it's headed towards another direction the next.

One afternoon came when my body was sore with pain from doing ridiculous chores. I felt a small hand grab my elbows and when I turned, I saw that it was the loan shark's son, Dan. Surprised as to why he would ever need my attention in secret, I followed him silently but swiftly into the shed where he led me.

"What is it?" I whispered, hoping that he had a request I would be able to grant. I'd been feeling guilty for not protecting him the day I led him to his father's spooky chamber but I was too terrified. Now I hoped I could be of help.

"Mrs. Jones...I am going to attempt to escape this castle tonight. Once you see smoke coming from the icy castle adjacent to the master's castle, run to the bakery. There is an escape route there and I bet you would find it just in time."

"Really? Do you know what you are saying right now?"

"I'd escape by night time so the workers at the bakery would have retired by that time. Run to the bakery when you smell the smoke!"

I couldn't believe my ears. I couldn't believe that my chance at liberty had come just like that. On a platter of gold. Dan had a plan and I knew that plan was to escape alongside his new ally which was the little girl.

He knew his dad was going to run after him once he noticed he was missing and would want to get me punished for it. Dan was probably trying to avoid that from happening to me.

Why would there be any reason for the castle to be set on fire though? Would the other slaves die just like that? Or did he plan a means for the other slaves to escape as well? Was the fire meant for this father alone? I didn't get to chance to question that because he hurriedly walked away.

I thought and analyzed the situation countless times. I'd tried to escape on my own and my efforts were futile. Why then should I trust a fourteen-year-old boy? Then I thought of Victor and home. I did want this. I was ready to settle for less so long as I would never get to spend one more night in this place.

I could never know the potency of Dan's strategy if I didn't try and so when dusk came, I began to make my way to the bakery even before I saw any sign or fumes of smoke. By the time I got there, I met the large oak door ajar and when I peeped inside, I didn't see a worker in sight.

I stepped in. I gazed around my surroundings, I saw rolling pins, bowls, knives, and graters but they were neatly arranged with no ingredients on the table. Then I heard the murmuring of a baker a few steps away. My ear was only able to catch the 'preserve' and from that, I could tell that they were preparing to close down the bakery.

Which meant I had no damn time to waste. The last thing I wanted was for one of the workers to walk in, and freak out on sighting me. I had to escape as noiselessly as I could.

There were about five doors in the largely spaced kitchen. Each one looking very much normal and medium-sized in construction. I started to grit my teeth and bite my lips nervously, knowing that I could not waste time thinking of what door to open and I could not afford to open the wrong door.

Grr...which one of these doors leads to the outside world? It has to be one of these doors. God, please.

If I open this door, I might find myself stuck in between sacks of ingredients, or pots, or cutleries and those darn noisy utensils would announce my—

"put the goddamn flour in the container!" a baker yelled outside but his voice was closer than ever. I was one step away from being seen.

BOOM!

The exploding sound of a fierce fire that burned with a tongue-tying speed filled my ears. Dan was at work. By now, he believes I should have found my way out. Once more, I worried for the other slaves because it felt selfish of me to escape on my own but there was no time.

Without any further thinking, I opened the largest door in the kitchen and when I did, I found another door inside. I opened it. And I saw another. I lost count of the number of doors I had to open after those three doors but it was thankfully worth it because each door got smaller and smaller in size and it got harder for me to breathe till a tunnel came into view.

I'd opened the right door.

How had the bakers worked here for so long and never knew about this wonderful escape route right in front of their eyes? It was probably because the loan shark has put them under a spell. He was capable of doing so. Or maybe they worked here by choice.

I started to crawl and crawl down the tunnel because I had to make my body fit into the painful small-sized route. With each creeping move I made, it was harder for me to breathe so I tried to move faster.

I couldn't have come this far to lose my life. I had to give this my all.

The image of bodies writhing in flames and children screaming the names of their parents in agony appeared as the fire devoured their flesh appeared in my mind again. I said a little prayer of protection for them, trying my hardest to believe that they would be safe.

Finally, after an endless lapse of time and crawling, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel and it was a light that came from the great fire rapidly burning down the entire castle and its premises.

I heard a very, very faint groan from somewhere in the castle afar off. Dan couldn't save the other slaves. I held the fabric of my breast pocket tightly as tears slipped down my eyes. Trauma was very real and I knew I would never get better any time soon or even forever.

The fact that I would never be able to save any infant would haunt me forever because I was sure that even the boy I was able to save from falling from the high building was most likely burning now.

But I had escaped already and the only tinge of hope I was holding on to at the moment was that I had to find my way home so I could think of ways to repay Dan generously the next time I have an encounter with him.

***

Everything had changed. The world had moved on during my nineteen years of absence for sure. No one cared. The avenue in which I resided had been very much transformed into a small London consisting of new, tall buildings, marts, hospitals, and schools even.

I looked like a nomad from a distant jungle in Asia as all eyes were fixed on me. I was the filthy lady with unwashed, smelly clothes worn on her body, a discolored skin tone, and boils on her eyelids with flies probably hovering around her unkempt hair.

I was a madwoman no doubt and it was so distinct because I was in a vicinity filled with corporately dressed people and high business personalities. I wanted to run away and hide into a distant cave but I had already done enough of that for so many years. All I wanted was to go home and have a refreshing, cleansing bath.

So I kept walking, hoping I would find the home I used to live in. Victor's home. Thanks to God of heaven, I saw our old house, static with a touch of reconstruction, but very much the same building.

I washed my feet by the tap close by and tried to weave my tangled, lice-infested hair into moderate pigtails before I walked right to the entrance and knocked with my fingers decorated with opened flesh and unhealed wounds.

A lady came out to attend to me and gasped immediately at the horror in front of her.

She was beautiful. She was Victor's mistress.

"Good morning. Is...this the house of a certain Mr. Victor Jones?"

"N-nyes, " she pinched her nostrils with her fingers, making her words very much nasal. "A-and who are you?"

"I'm Siena Screwbottom, a long lost cousin of Mr. Victor Jones."

"Screwbottom?" she scoffed, while still trying to cover her nose. "And where are you from if I may ask?"

"I'm from London's east end. The hood to be precise."

"I have no idea wherever the hell is that but I'm only letting you talk to me because my husband once made mention of a long lost cousin of his whom he used to be very close to but I don't recall hearing such names from his lips."

"Memories...That's why I'm his long lost cousin. He probably forgot my name."

"Anyway, " she waved her arms dismissively. "Mr. Victor Jones isn't at home presently. So you can come back some other time."

"Actually...I'm not here to see him. I'm here to see Jemima Jones, a lady who I presume to be his wife the first time I saw her, nineteen years ago."

Her countenance changed to an annoyed, flustered one.

"I was going to ask if you never heard the news but you look like someone from a cave, haha. The hood like you said. But Victor sold Jemima off to a loan shark many years ago because she was incapable of bearing children. She was of no use to his prestige and social status. So, he used her as collateral for a transaction he had with the loan shark. The money he borrowed was what he used to transform this house. Afterward, he got married to me and we are blessed with two children, " she gave a dreamy sigh. "So, if you wish to see Jemima Jones, I believe she's married to the loan shark now but if you wish to see Victor's wife, then it is I, " she smirked.

"Oh..." tears gathered in my eyes.

"Anyway, I will tell Victor you came."

"N-no you don't need to do that," I shook my head hurriedly.

"Hm. Oh well...Goodbye, Screwbottom!" she giggled and shut the door in my face.

I'd gotten more than I asked for. The reason why I told such ridiculous lies, I couldn't decipher but I wanted to know what Victor had been up to for nineteen years and if he ever bothered to know about my whereabouts.

But I didn't bargain for this.

I didn't expect to hear that my now ex-husband had sold me off to nineteen years of slavery just because I had no worth to him. He could have simply brought up the matter of a divorce and if I was adamant about it, he could found other ways to make me leave his life but selling me off to be molested, traumatized, and trapped?

Where the hell was his humanity?

I hated myself so much for believing that this place was my home. How could he have done this to me? How could he have placed me on a pendulum in which both sides were unpalatable?

I found myself wishing I had saved some children from the fire in the castle but the loan shark would have caught me trying to escape and help those children and that way, I would never get to leave the castle again and I would have made a mess of the opportunity Dan gave me.

But coming back home to learn that Victor was the reason I had to suffer for that was unbearable. The most painful thing I've ever had to hear and absorb. So...he knew when I was being kidnapped in the backyard, he had a deal with the loan shark so the loan shark could do whatever he pleased with me.

Little wonder why the loan shark made me suffer so much for not being able to let him sleep with me because it was rendering the deal with Victor useless...

What kind of foolery did I sign myself up for?

Was it Love? Acceptance from Society? Or the vain glory attached to conception?

I wished bitterly that I had known better.

                             The end