“Don’t fucking touch me,” I seethe while trying to keep the tremble out of my voice but fail.
“I want to know where my sister is.”
Leaning in close to my ear, he whispers “I can smell your fear.”
It’s all I can do to keep the bile from rising in my throat as he starts to work the buttons on my shirt. I open my mouth to scream, but we’re both cut off by the ringing of his phone.
“Mierda, Shit.” he hisses, digging his phone out of his pocket and putting it to his ear “Qué, What?” He barks out.
After listening to whoever is on the other end he hangs up. Turning his attention back to me, with seedy eyes that make my skin crawl, he says, “I’ll get my taste puta, bitch.”
The promise of his words have me shutting my eyes tightly, praying Logan finds me before he makes good on his word.
What feels like hours later, a different man walks in the room with a young girl trailing behind him carrying what looks like fast food bags, and my stomach instantly growls at the smell of fries. She can’t be any older than sixteen. She’s short, about my height with long, reddish-brown hair and honey colored eyes. Walking over she places the bags on the table beside the bed.
“I brought you something to eat,” she speaks so softly I can hardly hear her.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I tell her. I’ve been holding it for so long, and refuse to go on myself.
The man that came in with the young girl comes over and proceeds to uncuff my hands from the headboard. They immediately begin to burn and tingle from lack of blood flow.
“Don’t even think about being stupid. You try anything, and next time I’ll let you piss yourself.”
Walking me to the bathroom, the man stands in the doorway. I wait expectantly for him to at least turn around and give me a little privacy, but he only grins and appraises me from head to toe.
I try my best to act indifferent about the total lack of privacy. When I’ve finish my business, he walks me back over to the bed where the girl has begun taking food out of the bags. He sits in a chair on the other side of the room and ignores us for the most part, with his attention on his phone.
“What’s your name,” I ask the girl sitting in front of me.
She bites her lip for a minute like she’s unsure if she should talk to me. “Sofia,” she responds quietly.
“That’s a beautiful name, Sofia. My name’s Bella.”
I don’t miss the small smile on her face.
“Do you know where my sister is Sofia? Did they bring in another girl?”
She shakes her head no and her eyes dart over to the man in the chair making sure he can’t hear our exchange. I decide not to push her into talking anymore, she’s clearly scared.
While eating the food Sofia brought, I take notice of the bruises on her arms and neck. I have no doubt in my mind this poor girl is not here willingly. My heart is breaking for her. I make a vow when Logan finds me, I’ll do whatever I can to bring her with me. There is no way I could live with myself knowing what will happen to her if I leave her behind.
When I’m finished eating, the guy cuffs me back to the bed. My heart breaks the way he grabs Sofia by the arm and pulls her out of the room.
I’m again left alone. Eventually, my eyes grow heavy. I try hard not to fall asleep, but it’s been a long time since I’ve slept. I’m too afraid of what will happen if I don’t stay awake and alert. I lose the battle and sleep takes me under.
The click of the bedroom door startles me awake. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep. The fact that there is no sunlight seeping through the crack of the boarded-up window lets me know it’s nighttime.
I only hope it’s not the VP coming back to finish what he started earlier. I sigh in relief when I see Sofia come in. She quietly shuts the door and pads across the bedroom with bare feet. Sitting on the bed next to me, “I want to help you get out of here,” she whispers.
“What do mean, do you have the key for the cuffs?” I ask, getting my hopes up.
“No, I’m sorry I don’t have a key,” she says, dashing my hopes. Sofia notices my defeated look. “I’m sorry, Bella,” she says sadly, hanging her head.
“Hey, it’s okay, none of this is your fault okay. I don’t want anything to happen to you for trying to help me, you shouldn’t be in here.”
“It’s okay, I want to help you. If you can give me a phone number, maybe I can call someone for you. Sometimes Antonio leaves his phone out on the table before falling asleep.
“Which one is Antonio,” I ask?