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ASH
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A month. One entire month had passed since that horrible day. Quite possibly the worst damn day of my life. So much happened and yet, absolutely no progress was made. In fact, as I sat behind the front desk of the neighborhood community center, stuck in this chair, I realized I'd somehow regressed. In one moment, I managed to lose my mother, and with it, my plans to get her away from Shai and the sex ring. The only things I gained were three broken ribs and a concussion.

I hadn't seen her since the morning after, when I went to her room and saw her lying in a hospital bed, freshly woken up. She looked terrible, with her eyes bloodshot and swollen. She stared at me through squinted eyes, from drowsiness or the morning sunlight spilling on her face. I wasn't sure, but regardless, she looked worn, like a neglected shell of the beauty she once was.

One of the nurses must have taken it upon themselves to tie her hair up because it was styled in a bun. I hadn't seen it like that in years. It was like she saw no point in taking care of herself anymore. Besides the hair, though, she was the same—used, abused, and scared for her life. The look she wore when I told her about the police officers coming proved just how fearful she truly was.

"No," she shook her head adamantly. "No, I don't want to talk to them."

"I know, Mom. But, what if they could help you?"

"Help me?" she scoffed, releasing a dry laugh into the small room. "Please! They'll only make things worse!"

"No," I disagreed. "We could use them. Tell them a different story about what happened last night. One that will force them to protect you, but that won't lead them back to Shai. He'd have no reason to get involved and we could finally get away from him!"

Walking closer to her, I slowly reached for her hand, barely feeling the soreness of my wounds, thanks to the strong pain medication I was given. The only thing I really felt was my own desperation for my mother's safety. I wanted her to be free to live out the rest of her life on her own terms, with me. I wanted the woman that raised me the first fifteen years of my life to come back and fight her way out of this mess—and I wanted to help her do it.

"Don't be stupid, Ashley. I talk to those cops about anything, and I'm as good as dead."

"Mom, please," I begged, as much as I hated to do so. Squeezing her hand in mine, I looked at her with pleading eyes. "Come with me. Don't go back there. There's nothing left for you there except pain, pain, and more pain. I can help, I can get you clean, and we can restart our lives together, wherever you want, just...tell me you'll try."

By now, tears were falling down my cheeks and I had to blink several times to clear them as I asked her the same thing I had been since I turned eighteen and left the whorehouse. Tears streamed down her face as well, and it gave me hope. Hope that lasted the record time of three seconds before it was yanked away by two little words.

"I can't," she said.

"What?" I wanted to scream, but the question came out like a broken whimper. "What do you mean, you can't? Of course you can. This time we have a real plan. A good plan. You just have to trust me-"

"No, Ashley. Just...no. My life is over, don't you see that? What would I do if I said yes? Huh? Where would we go? I'm an illegal Russian immigrant with 'sex worker' as her only job history. Who would want to hire me? Who could ever love me? There's nothing else out there for me. I've got no reason to leave," she concluded, her voice soaked in defeat.

"Well, what about me?!" I yelled, past my sadness and now only blinded by anger. "I'm your daughter! How can you just lay there and tell me you won't even try-" Pulling up my shirt, I showed her the bruised and broken state of my body. "-when I try all the fucking time for you!"

"When did that happen?" she questioned with wide, green eyes. Her concern wasn't enough to douse the fire burning in me now. Years of pent up disappointment came flooding out like I'd never get another chance to share it.

"Last night! I got it fighting the same guy that put you in this hospital bed! Something I'd do again and again without you ever having to ask!"

"Ashley," she frowned, looking at my injuries. "You shouldn't have been there. You need to stop coming by the house."

"So do you," I countered.

"It's different for me. You're not in the game. Andre made sure of that."

Frustrated, I slowly made my way to the window that overlooked a courtyard and mumbled, "Yeah, well, he should have done the same for you."

Her laughter surprised me, considering how it genuinely sounded like amusement triggered it. "I forget sometimes how little you know about your father and I."

Staring at the ground down below, I didn't say a word, knowing I had to calm down. I couldn't keep shouting like a child throwing a tantrum. I knew that. I just needed a moment of release, and even if I didn't feel heard, at least I was able to express myself.

"I was nothing but a whore to your father," she said plainly, causing me to wince from the blunt harshness of her words.

When I looked at her, her face was calm, serene, like she'd just stated a fact in the same category as sharing what her name was. Like this was her truth that she accepted and made peace with.

"I was his favorite, of course," she added with the wave of her hand, as if that made things better. "Not long after he bought me, he took me off the streets. Said I'd be reserved for higher paying clients only."

"Mom." I wasn't sure why I called out her name, but I did, like a reflex or something.

With a look of understanding, she gave me a second to process her words before continuing, "I was nineteen when he forced me to have sex with him for the first time. He wanted to see what made people keep asking for me...I guess he found out because after that, he decided to keep me for himself. Said I could give oral for pay but nothing else. That's how I knew you were his when I got pregnant, and why he never denied you, even when you came out looking like a white baby."

"This is crazy," I scoffed bitterly, because I knew she wasn't lying. The conviction she spoke with couldn't be faked.

"Listen, baby," she said with a sad smile. "My relationship with your father has nothing to do with his relationship with you. That man loved you."

Sniffling, I closed my eyes tightly and cleared my head. None of this changed what I came here to do.

"Mom, please-"

"Oh, no. Not this again," she groaned like she was the one in pain.

"Yes, this again," I shot back. "I don't know how much longer you expect me to stick around and watch you let those men ruin you."

With offense, she gasped. "I didn't have a-"

"-choice. I know," I finished for her. "But, you do now."

For what felt like a very long time, we just looked at each other, neither saying a word. Her reason behind the silence, I hoped, was for the better. Mine had more to do with fear—fear that if I interrupted her thinking, she'd retreat back into her hole and I'd lose her forever.

When it seemed like she was about to say something, three light knocks on the door broke the moment.

"Miss Ovechkin?" a gravelly voice called out from the other side of the door.

"C-Come in."

I stood in the corner of the room closest to the door, catching a good look at the two men filing in, both decked out in their dark blue uniforms. The first man introduced them, looking to be in his late fifties, while the younger stood behind his superior, nodding at me as a sort of greeting that I did not return.

"If you don't mind, we wanted to ask you a few questions about how you were injuried. We got a call saying your doctor believed foul play had to be involved," the senior officer explained.

I had to bite my lip to keep from saying anything. As much as I wanted to take control and say whatever I could to protect my mother while also giving her a way out, I knew I couldn't. The same way you couldn't force an addict to stay clean, I had to let her make the decision. It had to be her choice.

With a hesitant glance my way, I stared back into her eyes, trying to read what was going on in her mind. I could see it, the conflict she was dealing with, but I couldn't tell what her conclusion would be.

However, she didn't keep me or the officers waiting long to find out.

"I'm not really sure what happened," she began to lie. "One second my daughter and I were out having some drinks, then she's walking me home, and next thing I know, we get attacked by some guy I'd never seen before. Someone must have spooked him because he ended up running off before finishing the job and we managed to get help and now we're here. Although, I'd really like to go home."

Gazing back at me, she gave me a sorrowful smile, mimicking an apology, but I didn't want it. Not from her.

Looking to the tiled floor, I closed my eyes and came to terms with what she did. I paid attention to the little detailing she gave. The way she made the attack seem random, unplanned, and finished. The way she made us seem like unreliable witnesses at the mention of alcohol in our systems. She wasn't dense, she was smart. She told an easily believable story that gave the men no reason to offer protection, and no reason to press for much more unless they were willing to call her a liar.

Maybe they were, considering the way they both now looked at me for either confirmation or disagreement.

"That how you remember it?" the younger man asked, not fully buying it. A part of me was glad he didn't, thinking he might actually be a good cop in the future and ask the right questions one day. Maybe even bring down Shai and all the other men out there like him. But, today, he'd have to take our tale and go, because as much as I hated doing so, I backed up my mother's version of events.

"Yes. That's how I remember it."

She made her choice. It just wasn't me.

Sighing at the devastating memory, I took a sip of my lukewarm coffee and tucked away the schedules I made for the rest of the month. It included all the activities and events the center planned to hold for the community, and while I was pretty much banned from anything too physically demanding, my boss made sure I still had plenty of work to do. It was just unfortunate it all took place behind this desk.

I'd rather spend time interacting with the kids, doing what I usually did, but this position was safer until I was fully healed. So, instead of complaining, I sipped my drink and waited for my shift to end, expecting nothing interesting to happen for the next few hours.

Ironically, that was the exact moment he walked in. His grey coat fit him well, layered and open over a black graphic tee. His dark blue jeans hugging him nicely, despite their worn appearance. For the first time, I saw what his hair looked like without a beanie. It was dark, much darker than mine, maybe even black, and lazily sat on the top of his head while his sides were closely shaved.

"What are you doing here?" I asked in as neutral a tone as possible, catching his attention.

With a half smirk, he walked closer, saying, "We came to see you."

Holding back the many questions I had on how he found out where I worked and why he wanted to see me, I furrowed my brows, looking into his blue eyes suspiciously.

"We?" I repeated, half expecting his shorter, big-eyed friend to come through the door next.

With a look of amusement, Dustin bent down, standing straight up a second later with a child attached to his hip. A child I hadn't noticed until now, but that I also recognized.

"Oh, hello," I said in surprise as I looked at the cute girl. Instead of pigtails, her hair was out, flowing freely with bangs falling right above her eyes. Both her dimples proudly showed as she smiled and pointed her little fingers at me.

"Dusty, look, it's Superwoman!"