Chapter 7

Dale waited several minutes after Earl’s truck drove off before gathering up a couple of folded towels and making his way to Room 12. He knocked lightly on the door and called out for Lila, but received no response. Using his master key, he unlocked and opened the door a crack, peering in and seeing Lila curled on the bed, her naked body still glistening with sweat, the cum from both men trickling from her abused holes. The room reeked of sex and degradation, the air thick and stifling despite the feeble air conditioner’s efforts.

“Lila?” Dale called softly, stepping inside and quietly closing the door behind him. “Brought y’all some clean towels,” his voice gentle. “Thought ya might want a shower.”

Lila didn’t respond, her body still quaking slightly as she stared vacantly at the wall. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess, her makeup smeared across her tear-stained face. Dale placed the towels on the edge of the bed, careful to keep a respectful distance, his eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and guilt. “Hey,” he said, running a hand through his greasy hair, unsure what to do. “You okay?”

Lila sat up slowly, grimacing as pain shot through her tender ass. She pulled the top sheet around her, suddenly modest despite everything that had happened. She stared at Dale, seeing the look of pity in his expression and something broke inside her. Her face crumpled as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. “No,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m ... I’m not okay. I’m a fff ... fucking whore,” she sobbed.

Dale moved closer and cautiously sat on the edge of the bed, his tobacco-stained fingers fidgeting in his lap. “You ain’t no whore,” he said quietly, his voice carrying unexpected tenderness. “Y’all just a girl in a bad situation, doin’ what she has to do to survive.”

Lila looked at him through her tears, mascara streaking down her cheeks in dark rivulets, surprised by the gentleness in his tone. “I keep telling myself that, but...” She wiped at her eyes, smudging the black further across her skin. “I liked it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “That’s why I’m a slut or a whore or whatever. I got off being abused and degraded when it was happening, but after ... I just feel ... ashamed.” Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. “What kind of person does that make me?”

Dale was quiet for a long moment, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands and taking a deep drag. “Human,” he finally said, exhaling a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. “Just makes y’all human is all.” He contemplated, his eyes fixed on some distant point. “We all got our own demons, our own ... desires that don’t make no sense, sometimes even to ourselves.”

Lila relaxed her grip on the sheet covering her, finding an odd comfort in Dale’s awkward attempt at wisdom. “This isn’t ... me,” she murmured. “Back home, I was ... normal. One boyfriend, just typical sex, you know. Then my car breaks down, and suddenly I’m...” she trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

“I think that sometimes,” Dale said, his voice gravelly yet gentle, “we don’t know who we really are till we’re pushed to the edge.” He offered her a sad smile. “Don’t mean that’s all you are.”

Lila wiped her tears with the corner of the sheet, leaving mascara stains on the already soiled fabric. “I just want to get out of here,” she said. “Pick up my car and pretend none of this ever happened.”

“Travis called while Earl and Hank were ... here,” Dale said, clearing his throat awkwardly, avoiding any mention of what had transpired. “Said your car’s ‘bout done. Should be ready in a hour or so.” He rose from the bed and stubbed out his cigarette in the glass ashtray on the small table beneath the window, a thin spiral of smoke curling upward, dissipating into the air. “Why don’t y’all get cleaned up and I’ll drive ya over when you’s ready.”

Hope flickered in Lila’s reddened eyes. “Thank you, Dale.”

Dale nodded and moved toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Lila,” he said without turning around. “Don’t matter what happened here. Don’t let it define who you are.”

After he left, Lila sat in the silence for several minutes, his words echoing in her mind. Finally, she forced herself to get up, wincing as her abused body reminded her of what had just happened. Gathering the towels, she made her way to the bathroom, desperate for a shower. She turned on the water and stepped under the lukewarm spray, letting it wash away the physical evidence of her degradation, hoping she could somehow cleanse away her shame along with the sweat and semen.

When she finally emerged, she felt marginally human again. After drying off, she applied fresh makeup and brushed her damp hair until it fell in neat waves around her shoulders. She retrieved her suitcase from the closet and selected a simple pair panties and a bra, blue jeans and a yellow blouse, that made her feel like herself again.

Glancing over at the table, she noticed a sandwich snugly wrapped in unmistakable green and yellow Subway paper, alongside a drink cup glistening with condensation that Dale must have dropped off while she was in the shower. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the night before. She devoured the sandwich gratefully, washing it down with the cold Coke, feeling her energy slowly returning.

A knock at the door interrupted her meal. “Hey Lila. Travis called, y’all’s car’s ready.”

“Okay, be right out,” Lila mumbled around a mouthful of food. She quickly finished eating and gathered her belongings, stuffing everything back into her suitcase. Taking one last look around the shabby room that had been her ‘home’ for the past day and a half, she felt a tumultuous blend of relief and lingering shame. The stained bedspread bore witness to her degradation, but soon it would just be another sordid memory in this godforsaken place.

Dale was waiting outside, leaning against his beat-up sedan, smoking of course. The late afternoon sun casting shadows across the motel’s dusty parking lot. He flicked his cigarette butt into the gravel as she approached, the ember sparking briefly before dying out.

“Your chariot awaits,” he said with a slight bow, opening the passenger door of his rusted Buick.

Lila giggled, tossing her suitcase into the back seat before sliding into the front. The car’s interior smelled of cigarettes, the faded pine tree shaped air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror having long ago lost its scent. Dale climbed behind the wheel and turned the key, the engine coughing to life with a rattling wheeze.

“Shop ain’t far,” Dale said as they pulled onto the dusty road.

They drove in comfortable silence, the radio playing old country songs at low volume. Lila watched the scenery pass by—ramshackle houses, rusted trailers, and overgrown lots that spoke of a town slowly dying. She couldn’t wait to put it all in her rearview mirror.

Travis’s garage sat at the edge of town, a corrugated metal building surrounded by rusted car parts and weeds. Her blue Honda sat in the parking area, looking almost foreign to her after everything that had happened. Travis emerged from the garage, wiping his hands on a greasy rag, his coveralls unzipped to reveal his muscular chest beneath. “There she is,” he said, nodding toward the car. “Purrin’ like a kitten. New alternator, serpentine belt, even did an oil change.”