Fractured

The doors swing open, and soon, we’re met with the dark skies that look so familiar, but the ground feels so foreign. Men in black masks with large guns shout and scream at us, shoving at our backs. We’re herded like cattle, and the tears that burn my eyes are threatening to burst.

“Go!” A loud, booming voice sounds behind us, and we walk forward, unsure of where to go, but then I see it, a large, black truck, waiting with the back doors open and men inside, more with guns, some with silver chains that look far too heavy.

We’re put inside, all fifteen of us. Chained to the floor of the truck, we’re prisoners without any way of escaping. The men who sit in the vehicle with us leer at each girl, their filthy gazes raking over us, and I can’t stop the shudder of revulsion that shoots through me.

I close my eyes, focusing on memories of a better time. Thinking about JD, I want to smile, but I bite my lip when I remember him telling me he loved me. I don’t know if he still feels that way, but the emotion that’s slowly barreling through me makes my lungs struggle to work.

Some of the girls around me start sniffling. Even though I want to bawl my eyes out, I don’t. I focus on trying to calm myself, but even so, my stomach is twisted in painful knots of anxiety.

My muscles are tense, my shoulders ache, and my body feels like it’s been through the wringer. The jerking of the truck throws us around, and each time, I find myself against one of the guards who looks down at me like I’m nothing more than an inconvenience.

Thankfully.

At least he’s not looking at me like he wants to do something obscene to me. The thought causes my throat to burn with bile.

Moments later, the truck comes to a stop, and the doors swing open once more. Glittering lights flicker from outside, and music streams from somewhere in the distance. It sounds like a nightclub.

We’re shoved out of the truck one by one, the metal chains clinking as we are shuffled in a single row toward two heavy metal gates. The music gets louder as we near them, and when they swing open, we’re met with hundreds of shiny cars. People are entering the enormous mansion which sits behind a fountain that looks like cupid shooting an arrow down at them.

Their clothing seems to sparkle under the gentle yellow lights that remind me of tiki torches. The wealth that drips from this place is nothing short of breathtaking. Granted, the house is stunning, the people are beautiful, and I wonder just what we’d be doing here.

Instead of going through the front doors, we’re ushered around the back of the house, led into a large room that looks like a changing room at a clothing store. On one side are mirrors, and opposite those, there are black railings filled with hangers of clothes.

“Get changed. There’s a bathroom through there,” one of the men tells us while pointing at the door off to the left of the room. “You’re up in twenty minutes.” His gruff voice sounds like tires on gravel. Soon, we’re alone. The cold has seeped into my veins from being on the ship and then on a truck, but now that we’re inside, my bones seem to thaw.

Pain radiates through me, reminding me that I’m being sold. Being sent away. And my lungs hurt as I struggle to breathe. And slowly, moment by moment, my fragile heart breaks, leaving a fractured part of me broken in my chest.

The men are right outside the door, chuckling and smoking. The scent of the cigars wafts through the gap under the door. The girls are shuffling around, but I close my eyes, trying to listen to their conversation.

“They don’t realize we are only a few . . .” The rest of the girls are making too much noise for me to hear the remainder of the sentence. Inching toward the door, I lean in closer, almost pressing my ear to the cool wooden surface.

“They’ll never find us here. The warehouse is nothing more than an empty piece of rank property.” The deep gravel of one of the men filters through.

“I think he’ll be here.”

“Nah, the kid’s got no balls,” Mr. Gravel says, and I have a feeling they’re talking about JD. The man who killed his dad has me, and I doubt he’ll sit back. At least, I believe he won’t. If his dad really was undercover, there will be police searching for us.

Won’t there?

Chapter Eighteen

Autumn

Two long days have passed since we arrived. The night they brought us here was uneventful. We were merely serving drinks to men and women who seemed like they were attending a party. Each couple or single man or woman would glare at us as if they had been sizing us up.