Before I Die

“Let’s go,” a gruff voice demands as hands grip my arms and I’m dragged out of the trunk. My legs are scratched against the edge of the bumper and I cry out.

“Help!” I scream, hoping to draw the attention of someone nearby.

“Shut the fuck up,” the man commands, gripping my tied wrists with one of his hands and covering my mouth over the material with the other, as he pushes me along blindly.

I stumble up a step and then another. A dangle of what sounds like keys hits my ears, and then we enter air conditioning. We’re indoors. He’s going to kill me. Just like he killed my brother.

The door slams closed and he continues to push me along. He lets go of my mouth and I scream again, even though it’s pointless.

“If you keep that shit up, I’m going to duct tape your mouth,” he threatens, and I immediately stop screaming. “That’s what I thought.”

There’s a pulling on my wrists and then I’m pushed onto the ground. The material covering my face lifts, and I come face-to-face with the man who more than likely killed my brother. Blond, neatly trimmed hair, blue eyes, and a face, so gorgeous that, in a different situation, would have the ability to take my breath away. He looks like the all-American boy next door—but I know different.

“Are you going to kill me?” I blurt out.

He smirks. It’s smarmy, and everything I thought was gorgeous about him is instantly ugly. “Hell no,” he says with a shake of his head. “You’re no use to me dead.”

I’m no use to him dead? What the heck does that mean?

“Please let me go,” I beg. “I won’t tell anyone you took me. I promise,” I lie.

He snorts out a laugh. “Oh, I’m going to let you go all right. You’re being sold to the highest bidder. Your no-good, piece of shit brother owes me a shit ton of money, and you’re going to get it all back for me.”

His words remind me that Stephen is dead. He’s gone and never coming back.

“My brother was a good man,” I argue, tears pricking my eyes.

“Your brother was a corrupt fucking cop,” he volleys.

“You killed him,” I accuse. “You’re a murderer.”

Before I realize what I’m doing, I spit in his face. His eyes widen and then his hand comes up and backhands me. My head jerks to the side, my cheek burning in pain.

“Your brother got what was coming to him,” he hisses.

As he ties my wrists to the leg of a desk, I take in my surroundings. We’re in what looks like a home office. There’s a large wood desk and a couch. A table against the window with a tray of glass bottles lined up. Alcohol. The walls are a plain white with no pictures on them.

When he gets done, he stands. “I have shit to do. Feel free to scream until you lose your voice. Nobody will hear you.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, I need to meet with the guy who’s buying you.”

He turns to leave and I start to freak out. He can’t leave me here, tied to a desk! I need to do something… “I need to go pee!” I yell, stopping him in his place.

He raises a brow.

“If you don’t let me go pee, I’ll pee all over the floor,” I challenge, hoping it’ll be enough to get him to release me.

He groans and steps forward, kneeling to untie me. “Fine, but if you try anything, I won’t hesitate to kill you, just like I killed your brother.”

He’s full of it. He just said he needs to get the money back my brother owed him. He isn’t going to do anything to me. But I don’t point that out. He might get mad and not let me go to the bathroom.

He pulls me into a standing position and then pushes me out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom, swinging the door open.

“Can you untie my hands, please?” I ask nicely in an attempt to get on his good side. “I need to pull my underwear down and wipe myself.”

He rolls his bright blue eyes, but does as I ask.

“Can I have some privacy?” I ask, when he makes no attempt to leave the bathroom.

“Better get used to it.” He smirks evilly. “You’re about to get sold to a slave owner. Any modesty you have will be thrown out the window. You’ll be fucked seven ways to Sunday every day until you die.”

My body goes cold. He mentioned this before, but I didn’t think about what it would mean. He’s going to sell me. I’ve read about sex trafficking. It’s huge all over the world. Hundreds of thousands of women every year are taken and sold, never to see their friends and family again. I even participated in a church fundraiser to help fight against it. And now, because of whatever my brother did, I’m about to become a statistic.