Sold Into Freedom - 8. Chapter 8

Having returned to the BnB safely, Robert fussed over his son. "You shower, and I'll make the tea."

"Okay, Dad." Andrew put down the plastic bag. He’d been gripping it so tightly his hand was sweating. After wiping it on his thigh, he stopped two steps before the hall. "I'll meet you in the garden in a few, okay?"

"Righto, Son." Robert watched his youngest's slow steps as he went to shower. What he’s been through will take some getting over.

The morning was sunny. A gentle breeze stirred the air perfumed by the flowers in the pretty garden.

It was nearly seven-thirty when Andrew looked out the patio door. It’s so normal. How can it be? Jesus, what have I done? He slid the heavy glass across and stepped out to join his father. He walked over the soft, bright green grass and sat on the blue canvas-covered lawn chair.

Robert smiled at him. He'd witnessed the shell-shocked look on the young soldiers he'd commanded. Hell, I've seen it on my face. He poured tea into a mug, added milk and some sugar and handed it to his boy. "Drink this, Andy."

Accepting the tea, Andrew offered a small smile in return. "Thanks."

Robert was silent for a moment. He stared down into the hot drink in the mug he held. "I’m going to tell you what I also told those under me before I retired."

"Dad—"

"No. Not this time, Andy. You'll listen because, believe it or not, I know exactly what you're going through now." After placing his drink on the small table between them, Robert continued, "I've been through it. Any soldier who sees action and anyone who sees the kinds of things you have does. There's little difference." Robert paused and took a deep breath. "You can’t believe it’s real. You cannot fathom that such horrors exist and such people walk beside us, obscured by our ignorance. Time helps. Your moral compass helps. Eventually, you accept the unacceptable. That there are people like them, and they live among us."

Robert reached for his son's hand and held it. "You'll accept it because you have to get on with life. But you will never fully believe it, and I know that sounds stupid. You concede they are there but will never be them or allow these monsters to be near you. People like you will write about them and throw light on them so we can all see, but you will never be them or agree with what they do.

"Give yourself some time to process it all. Please don’t write about it yet, Andy. Not yet. Let yourself heal from this experience because you are wounded. You need time and the goodness in the world before you go back and face that again."

Robert looked over at his son. He got to his feet, pulled Andrew up, and embraced him. He didn't mind the dampness of his son's tears on his shoulder.

Andrew clung to his father, who, at that moment, was the only anchor he had. He whispered into his father's shoulder, "I let it happen. I'm no better than Black is. I wanted information. I wanted to see and I let those boys be sold. What happens to them is my fault."

"No, Andrew. No. That isn’t true. Listen to me." Robert gently pushed out of their embrace, but he kept hold of his son by the shoulders. "Yes, you witnessed it, but it would have happened the same way whether you were there or not. I know you’re upset, but you must think logically. Let’s sit down."

Robert retook his seat and waited for Andrew to join him.

After a moment, Andrew said, "Logic? What do you mean?"

"I mean, could you have stopped them? How many men were aboard? Were they armed? Thinking logically, could you have stopped Black and all his men alone?" Robert sat quietly to allow his son time to think.

Andrew shook his head and said, "No." He kneaded his thighs. "I think I need to see the police. Tell them what I know."

"What about your friend? What’s his name?"

"Kyle?" Andrew sipped his tea. "Yes. I’ll call him. He’s in Edinburgh, maybe we can meet."

"I think that's a good idea, Son." Robert decided now was the time to discuss the other subject he wanted to broach. "I also think that you should stay with your mother and me for a few more days than you'd planned."

Andrew felt relieved at his father's suggestion and didn't question it. "Yeah. Thanks, Dad. I'd like that."

"Good. Do you want to go and sleep for a while?"

"Yes. I’d like to do that."

"Right, then. You go and lay down. Get some sleep. Then call Kyle later and set up a meeting for tomorrow if you can."

"Tomorrow?"

"Aye. I thought we'd drive back home today. Unless you rather not." Robert swallowed the last of his tea and returned the empty cup to the small tea tray. "Forget that. Sleep. Then we'll decide on the next steps."

Andrew smiled. "That sounds good, Dad. There's time to decide." He picked up the tray, and together, the two men returned indoors.

Once Andrew had gone to his room, Robert finished washing up. Once that job was complete, he took his phone and returned to the garden, where he called his wife.

The phone barely rang once before Doreen answered. "You took your time! I’ve been worried."

Robert nodded, noting the worry he'd heard in his wife's voice. "I’m sorry, my love. Andrew needed some TLC."

"Is he all right?"

"Yes. He's a bit shell shocked. But I’ve given him some sweet tea and he’s off for a nap. I’m not sure yet if we’ll be back later today or early-ish tomorrow. If we decide to come back today, don’t worry about dinner. I’ll pop out for a takeaway, all right? You can rest assured, he's in good hands."

"Yes, okay. Whatever he wants to do." Doreen paused before asking, "Are you all right? I know you worry about him too."

"Aye, love. I do and I’m fine. I’ve told him he’s to stay with us for a few days before going back. He didn’t argue, just agreed."

"That’s telling isn’t it, Robbie?"

"Aye. Sometimes a boy just needs his mum and dad. This is one of those times."

"All right, well, I know you’ll look after him, but look after yourself also. Don’t press him to call me, okay? I know I said he was to call, but don’t push him."

"Okay. I know he has a couple of calls to make later. I will call you later on as well, sweetheart."

"I’ll be home. Love you."

"Love you too, m'eudail." Robert looked at the screen and pressed end. Ma always said you never stop worryin' for your children. She was right.

⸛

Matt was on his second boat trip that morning. After being delivered by T, no one spoke to him in English on this new boat. His new captors were heavily muscled and swarthy men. They were rough in their handling of him.

They know I’m queer. They think I’m weak and pathetic. They’re right. Matt was handcuffed in front. Wet from the spray as the RIB hit wave after wave on the Atlantic, he held on with both hands to one of the handles on the side of the rigid inflatable boat.

He’d whined about his treatment and the length of the trip once too often and had been slapped and told to shut up. The pain had surprised him, and so were the stars he saw, so he remained silent now. He was frightened and feared what was to come. You need to suck it up. If you don't, they'll just kill you.

The sun had risen, and the sky was clear now. Matt figured they'd been travelling for about an hour in the small craft. He was wet through, the salt water making his skin sore as the sun tried to dry him. Seated in the bow, he watched ahead for signs of a destination.

Finally, Matt was sure he saw something: another boat. That’s bigger, like another yacht. I hope that’s where we’re supposed to be.

As they drew closer, Matt saw that this ship was as big or bigger than the first yacht he’d been on. He allowed the men to pull him aboard.

One of the men grabbed Matt by the shoulders and pushed him against a wall. "You shut up, and you wait. Yes?" His accent was heavy, and Matt couldn’t place it.

"Yes." Matt kept his eyes down and stayed still. He watched as the men pulled the RIB aboard and stowed it. You gotta breathe. Just go along with stuff, like D told you.

After several minutes, a smartly dressed young man appeared next to Matt. "What is your name?"

"Matt." He’s gotta be able to see how fucking scared I am.

"You may call me Ahmet. You will come and I will show you your room."

"Yes, thank you." Matt’s voice was a whisper.

Ahmet turned and walked quickly down the passageway. They moved deeper into the ship. They passed the Crew's Mess, Crew's Quarters, and Crew's Lounge and past the kitchen and storage until they reached several small rooms. These were numbered one to four. They stopped at number three.

"This is yours. Please keep it clean. I will inspect it. There should be some clothing that fits in the closet and drawers. Keep yourself clean and prepared to be called by Sir at any time. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ahmet. I understand."

Ahmet opened the door to room three. "Good. Enter. You will see there is a television, a small bathroom and toiletries. You will shower daily, keep yourself clean and hair free. Sir will prescribe the hairstyle he wants for you. You can eat in the Crew’s mess or pick up your food and eat in your room. You are responsible for any clean-up. You do not have internet access. It’s forbidden. Do you have questions?"

Matt considered asking who Sir was but decided there were better ideas than this one. "No, not right now, Ahmet. Thank you."

Ahmet inclined his head. "Some advice. Do as you’re told. Do not do anything else. If you need help, ask me. I am available to you, Matt."

Matt heard kindness in the brief message. He knew better than to mention it, so he nodded. "Thank you."

"He will call for you later today. Shower and shave, and change into fresh clothes. You will find several changes of clothes. You may wear shorts as it’s warm. Use only the toiletries we provide. If you have any concerns, contact me. There is a button marked for that on the inside of the room by the door. You need press the button only once. Is all this clear?"

"Yes, Ahmet. I’ll shower right away."

He entered his new room, leaving Ahmet in the passage. After closing the door, he pressed himself against it and tried taking some deep breaths. Calm down. You need to have a shower and calm down. Wishing ain't gonna help now, Mattie.

Gazing around the room, he noticed a tiny bathroom with a corner shower and toilet. In the central part of the room were a single bed, a small armchair, and a chest of drawers. A tiny flat-screen T.V. hung on the wall. There was a closet in which hung some simple shirts and T-shirts and several pairs of shorts and slacks.

Tearing away from the door's safety, Matt pulled open the drawers. Each contained unopened packages of clean underwear, socks and white t-shirts in several sizes. Matt took the ones that wouldn’t fit and moved them to the empty bottom drawer. He opened a package of white cotton boxers and a T-shirt. On the top shelf of the closet were clean towels. He took off his clothes and folded them, leaving them on the closet floor in the dirty pile.

Turning to the shower, he read the message on a plaque on the wall—Max Shower time: 3 Minutes.

I better soap up first and shave before I shower. Matt wet his face to soften the growth there.

As he hunted on the shelf in the bathroom, he found hard wax, a wax heater and other do-it-yourself waxing tools. Oh shit. Oh, God, I can't do this. I can't be some guy's sex thing. Please.

Matt looked in the mirror. He closed his eyes and wiped away the few tears he'd shed. You need to fucking get a grip. You are here, and you need to handle it.

With shaking hands, he shook the can of shaving cream and dispensed some into his left hand. He applied it to his beard with his right. He looked down as he picked up the razor. Glad it’s not a straight razor. Staring at the tool, he wondered if he could free the razor enough to get more access to the blade. It would only take a few well-placed cuts. Matt looked back into the mirror. He stared at his dark eyes reflected in the glass. Is that what you want? To take your own life? Are you there yet? He gazed for a few moments more. No, not just yet.

After shaving, Matt got into the shower and quickly washed. Once dry, he put on boxers and a white T-shirt. He sat on the small bed and dropped his head into his hands.

Thoughts of why and what kept invading his brain. He pushed them away, knowing he had to stay sharp and keep a clear head. I don’t want to die here. I don’t. I'll do what D said. Do what you need to until you can get away.

Feeling warm and tired, Matt lay back on the narrow bed and closed his eyes. Sleep was filled with visions of a vast ocean and Matt sitting alone in a tiny boat. It bobbed on the waves and drifted. There was no motor or paddles. He could not control it. If he put his hands in the water to paddle, creatures with large teeth swam below.

"There’s no way out!" He screamed alone on the open seas.

Matt woke to a strange buzzing sound. Opening his eyes, he remembered where he was and that this was not a dream. The buzzing sound continued, and he realized it came from the intercom panel next to the door. Then it stopped.

Only several moments later, there was a knock, and the door opened.

Ahmet stood in the doorway, frowning. "Why did you not answer?"

"I’m sorry. I fell asleep. It was too late when I realized what it was. I’m sorry, Ahmet."

Ahmet sighed. "Very well. From now on, when you hear, you must press here to answer. Do you see?"

"Yes." Matt peered at the panel. "I see. It won’t happen again."

"Good." Ahmet looked at Matt. "You’re not dressed. Put on some shorts and a proper shirt. Hurry! He is waiting for you."

Matt pulled on shorts and yanked off the white t-shirt. He pulled on a yellow polo shirt instead. There were no shoes but his own.

"You will not need shoes. Come."

"Okay." Matt followed, closing the door to his room behind him.

Ahmet talked as they walked through the passage and up the stairs. "You will speak only when spoken to. You will thank him for his time. You will attend him as he instructs – no matter what or how. Do you hear me, Matt?"

"Yes. Do as I’m told. Be silent until I’m told otherwise. Be polite and grateful."

"Perfect."

They climbed the staircase, and Ahmet led him to an opulent door. He knocked twice sharply. He held up a hand to Matt, who nodded and remained still.

Ahmet opened the door and stepped in. "Sir, I have escorted the new boy, Matthew. He awaits your pleasure."

"Send him in. Return for him in an hour."

Ahmet bowed slightly and motioned Matt inside. Then, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Matt's heart pounded loudly, and he was nearly panting for breath. Matt stood still but could not control his shaking. His legs threatened to stop supporting him. He looked at what was in the room beside the sizable round bed opposite the door. It looked like a torture chamber along one wall. The man he saw was very handsome. He carried himself confidently and only wore a thick, soft-looking robe.

The man approached and said nothing. He scrutinized and walked around the frightened young man. In his left hand, he carried a slim rattan cane. He used it to lift Matt's chin. Then he glanced into Matt's eyes.

"You’re afraid. That’s a very good way to be." The man’s voice was low and cultured. "I’d like to see my newest purchase. Take off your clothes. All of them. Fold them and place them on the white chair over there. Then return here."

Matt said nothing but complied. Naked, he walked back to where he'd been standing. He held his hands over his genitals.

Once again, the man circled him. "Too thin. It would help if you had food and exercise. You will get both." Stopping in front of Matt, he said. "I am Fazlul Karim Kanaan. However, I am Sir to you—he who holds your life. Do not believe for a moment that I care for you. You are here for my needs and my pleasure. Fail in providing those, and you will feel my wrath. Do you understand me? You may answer."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. You are my property, to do with as I wish." Kanaan once again circled his new acquisition. He tapped Matt’s hands with the cane. "That cock is mine. Did I tell you to cover it?"

Matt dropped his hands.

Kanaan stood back and smiled. "Much better. You’re quiet so far. I like that." He walked to the bed. "Get on the bed. I will allow you to please me further."

An hour later, Matt stood outside the room, dressed again. He pressed himself against the wall. He was willing the solid feature to open up and swallow him. I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do this. I have to get out of here.

Ahmet appeared. "Wait. I will be right with you." He rapped on the door and entered.

Matt could hear voices, but the words were not discernible. He closed his eyes and waited for Ahmet to return.

The door opened and closed. "Come, let’s go back to your room. We’ll get some food for you on the way. He is pleased with you, Matt. He said you were nearly perfect." Ahmet smiled as he took Matt’s arm. "Are you all right? He said I must look at your wounds to make sure you are okay and they heal. He said you were quiet, and he will not have to train you to be. He’s very pleased."

Matt said nothing.

They stopped in the mess to pick up a sandwich plate and a bottle of apple juice. Then, back in the tiny room, Ahmet had Matt strip and bend over the bed. "Oh, this isn't too bad. It stings badly, but he did not break the skin. He tries not to. I am going to apply some salve that will help the pain."

The salve did help the throbbing from the caning he'd received. When directed, Matt pulled up his boxers.

"Sir says you are to eat three times per day and use the exercise room to build yourself up. He wants you to be a bit more muscular. A trainer in the exercise room will be helping you." Ahmet produced a piece of paper. "This is a little map of this deck. I've marked where you may go. If you need anything again, you must let me know."

Matt nodded.

"Matt, you need to speak to me. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I’m fine." The words left his lips in a dull monotone.

Ahmet smiled. "Very well. Eat your food and rest now."

⸛

From this first day, Matt's life consisted of eating, sleeping, working out, and making one or two weekly visits to Kanaan. He rotated with the three other young men who lived in the other small rooms. They never met each other.

He asked Ahmet if Sir lived only on the boat.

"Not at all. He has a beautiful house and a harem with several wives and many children." Ahmet’s dark, sombre eyes held Matt’s. "The ship is where he keeps his secrets."

****