He hauls the other woman over to the tall, lanky man, and both pairs head off behind the wall and into separate rooms. Brett follows. After a minute, he comes out dragging another woman.
He pulls her roughly over to the far side of the main room, giving her a shove toward a chair where she sits with her back toward me. She shifts uncomfortably. Her dress is longer but just as tattered as those of the other women. Her hair is long and unkempt.
I can barely see through the crack, but I know it’s her. Everything about her is etched into my memory. I know the tilt of her head, the curve of her neck, and the shape of her shoulders all too well.
Hannah.
I reach out and press my fingers to the plywood wall. She’s no more that fifteen feet away from me. Brett stands in front of her with his arms crossed.
“Next time we have visitors, I expect you to present yourself with the other girls, you hear me?”
Hannah’s head bobs up and down in a silent reply. Brett pulls his arm back and smacks her across the face.
My legs straighten reflexively as my hands ball into fists. As Chuck’s words scream in my head, I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself back down to a crouch. I can’t give myself away, not yet.
“Fucking answer me!”
“I’m sorry.” The voice doesn’t even sound like her, not really. It’s the same, but the tone is all off. “I wasn’t feeling well, and Mandi said—”
“Mandi isn’t in charge here, is she?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t give a shit what she says, and I certainly don’t care how you’re feeling!”
Brett pulls a bottle out of a cabinet on the wall and holds it up to his lips. He takes a long drink, staring at her the whole time.
“You’re hardly worth it now, you know?” Brett says with a sneer. “Fat, ugly bitch. It’s only watching you cry that makes it worth the effort.”
I close my eyes and shake. I can take the two guys at the door, guns or not. Once I get inside and get my hands on Brett, I’d rip his dick off and shove it down his throat. I could grab Hannah, and then…
…and then I’d be surrounded by a hundred other men.
I squeeze my eyes shut and grind down on my teeth. I can’t go after her—not now. There are too many of them, and they’d be on me in a heartbeat. I’d never get her out alive. I’d be dead, and she would be dragged right back and likely punished for the effort.
I have to wait.
Brett places the bottle back in the cabinet, steps up to Hannah, and runs his hand over her shoulder. She sits stiffly, looking off to the side until he grabs her chin and turns her to face him.
“I’ve got a couple more things to get done,” he says, “but I’m gonna be back for ya later, darling. You just hang out, bent over that table with your legs spread until I get back.”
He gives her chin a twist, laughs, and struts out.
I can’t see straight.
I want nothing more than to yell out, letting Hannah know that I’m here and that I’m coming back for her, but I can’t. I know I can’t do that. Anything she said or did later could alert Brett to my presence, and I’d never get her out.
I have to wait.
I have to wait while they keep fucking her.
Pushing away from the wall, I stumble slightly before shoving myself back behind the building, next to the rubble. I make my way back to the other side, check around me quickly, and then head back to the storehouse.
There’s someone inside, and I have to loiter around the outside for a few minutes, trying not to look conspicuous at all. No one seems to pay any attention to me, though. As far as they know, I’m just another of the many men at the camp.
As soon as the man exits the storehouse, I duck inside and head straight for the opening behind the crates. Shoving myself into the space behind them, I crawl into the tunnel and pull my knees up to keep myself hidden. I tuck my forehead down against my thighs and wrap my arms around my head. I can’t keep the images out of my brain.
She’s been here all this time. The guys here clean out latrines and divvy up cans of beans for a chance to rape her. How many times? How many times over the last seven months have they taken her? How is she even still alive?