Chapter six #2
Taking row after row of kids in, one thing I know for sure is — I hate Snake lying child trafficking ass hypocrite with every fiber of my being. Everything I ever felt for him dies in that moment. I feel as if I’m going to be physically ill.
“Merdè” This time the word holds so much horror. I know I’m not alone in my feelings watching Kandie take in the scene before us.
The children, ranging from toddler to young adult, lie as still as possible on beds. As if they are scared even to move. Their frail little forms vibrate with fear and the trauma they have had to endure, and no one deserves.
In Haiti there is a word for it — restavek, child slavery basically.
What would have happened to me that night had Hadrián not saved me.
I can’t even wrap my mind around what I’m seeing.
It’s like Hadrián gave way to Snake in the worst way — able to do the most reprehensible things imaginable.
Cognitive dissonance threatens to explain away what I’m seeing, but I don’t let it.
“What are they doing to these kids?” The plaintive tone in Kandie’s voice has me turning on her with a wrathful gaze.
“I’m sure the same thing they did to y’all in that home I heard you burned to the ground.
” Acid drops from my voice. It’s not directed at her but at those who betrayed these kids.
I don’t need to tell her my story to see the understanding in her eyes.
Her past is as dark as mine. Like me, she survived only to be confronted with it again through someone she trusted.
If her face is any indication, Kandie is just as horrified as I am.
“The fact that he could be part of this after—” I bite those words with a harsh grating laugh. Tilting my head back, I shake it in disbelief. “Estipid.”
“We have to get them out of here,” Kandie says when we get to the rear of the rows of beds.
I notice they are still as stones, though no one is asleep — gazes of all ages watching us with trepidation.
I also don’t know what resources she has at her disposal to help these people.
My life is solely dependent on Snake. What little money I’ve been saving is not nearly enough to see myself free of him, let alone help nearly thirty people free themselves from el Diablo cartel.
There is a door before us with the light spilling underneath.
Pushing it open, I see the two rows of beds. Older girls, seeming to be in their late teens to early twenties, are lined up in two groups of four on either side of the room. The room smells faintly of antiseptic. They all have IVs.
Dread tightens my tummy. Kandie looks like she’s about to be sick.
The light is low, but one of the girls is sitting up in the bed. She rushes to tuck a book under her pillow.
“Senorita,” Kandie says, going over to her. We lift our masks so she can see what I hope look to be friendly faces.
“No halbla inglais,” she says before I can ask questions. Looking frantically around like she’s afraid one of the other girls is going to snitch on her to their captors.
This is how they divide and conquer. Make them distrust one another, solidifying their power and control over their lives.
I never forgot how they tried to turn the people against each other in hopes that they or their family would be saved.
It never happened. Fomenting distrust and resentment only aided the oppressors, never those poor souls longing for a better way.
They would use the most basic of freedoms or favors to get families to reveal any resistance amongst the ranks.
Hearing the girl’s obvious lie, I cut in.
“Good, since we’re speaking Spanish.” With a rapid set of questions that Kandie probably has a hard time catching up with.
I begin by asking her where they came from, who brought them over, if she knows how long they were on the road because days can bleed together when you on trekking here.
“Slow down. I’m not as fluent as you.” Kandie hisses, nudging my shoulder. I turn so she can whisper in my ear. “And calm the hell down.”
“If I speak with authority, they will think I have the power to help them.” Snapping in a low, harsh tone, I turn back to the teen. “Who did this to you?” I nod toward her form in the bed. It’s obvious she’s been abused. Her face is bruised, and her lower lip is split.
“The men who brought us over here and then the other men when we got here.” She plucks at the down quilt with trembling fingers, not wanting to meet our eyes. Like their fucking shame is hers. I want to kill all of them.
“T-then,” she wipes her running nose. Kandie reaches over to the bedside that has a box of tissues for her and the girl opposite to share and gives it to her. After she finishes, she looks at us with determination. “They raped us. Then the sheriff brought the doctor to get the babies out.”
Still as a statue, I listen as she recounts more of the horrors they’ve had to endure. “It was the guys in devil vests.” One of the other girls chimes in when more of the girls become brave enough to tell us their stories.
“We are going to get you out of here today.” Pulling out her phone, Kandie makes a call. Her face is all business and determination.
Only I can’t fathom who has power equal to the men who secretly run this town, since all the ones here, including the motherfucker I thought cared for me, are evil as they come.
“LL, there is something I need you to do right now, no questions. Just actions.” I watch with my breath seized in my chest as she waits out the silent line for a moment.
“Anything for you, Kandie-girl,” he says in a strong baritone I can hear over the line. He sounds surprised but eager to do her bidding.
I listen as she informs him of the location and the situation of the kids.
When she gets off, she assures me, if anyone can handle this, then it’s him.
He lives and works as a Civil Rights attorney in Montgomery and makes headlines with high-profile cases against corporations.
He’s one of the major forces behind the Love family’s power.
Stopping the Shelby’s from trying to encroach on their land and lives just like his father and grandfather before him.
I can tell she’s proud of him and her family.
I feel more than anything the loss of my own courageous family.
“Y’all need to lie low for the time being while this all gets sorted.” He says when she’s done.
“Planned on it.” I mirror Kandie’s nod in my direction.
“Get Easy away from that motherfucker.” His bitter words cut through the line.
“Say less.” Hanging up, she turns to me. Jerking my head up, I know she never signed up for this bullshit either. Guilt wracks me thinking about how I aided in tying the sweet librarian to Angel.
“Hey,” turning back to the group of teens, who are all looking at us with hope. Seems like they can piece together the conversation with LL despite Kandie’s heavy southern dialect and their lack of fluency.
“Soon there will be people coming. It will be scary, and they will probably have guns. They will not hurt you. They are going to take you somewhere safe and help you find a safe place to live.” Looking at each of them, she speaks in clear, though imperfect, Spanish.
“You must claim asylum as soon as you see the officials. Keep saying it until the attorney says your paperwork is filed.” Taking over, I repeat everything in Haitian Creole for the few Haitians among the group.
After a few more minutes answering questions and a few hugs of thanks we leave.
“We have a clubhouse in the back of Dr. Mimi’s house where we used to play when we were little. It used to be the color of buttercups, but now it’s a little faded. Meet me there.” She tells me, watching me pull my bike out of the underbrush where I hid it.
“Do you need to go back for anything?”
Her eyes are hard, like she thinks I’ll fold or something. She couldn’t possibly know how heavy knowing this is. How deeply the betrayal sears straight to my soul. Scared to blink lest the unshed tears spill, I assure her. “Non.”
Shaking my head, I brush a few stray leaves from the seat of my bike. “Everything was his or given my him.”
Turning away from her, I sense she feels the same pain.
Neither of us really has the words right now, but we’ve got to push through to the end.
This is not only about us but all those innocent people in there.
I don’t even let my mind touch the statement the girl said.
Bikers wearing the el Diablo’s cut raped them. I feel my gorge rise.
Is that why he said I could never satisfy him? Then why did he kill Marco and the rest? Was it just so he could feel like the hero? Continue to make a fool of my silly crush on him?
Nothing makes sense. If not for the words of those young women and girls, I would never believe it.
This shit is foul to its core. And even if he didn’t do it, he’s complicit.
They all are. To turn away now after being confronted with the cold reality of what el Diablo truly is would make me no better than the abusers themselves.
I have no place, no family, but I’d rather be alone than be part of a sex trafficking, child enslavement ring. Ain’t no fucking way I’m doing that.
We knew who they were. They never pretended to be good.
But kids? I’m never going to allow that.
Seeing those kids like that threw me right back to what that captain almost did to me.
That kind of powerlessness and fear never leaves you.
It’s always been just beneath the surface.
The least little scratch making me bleed, with the pain and loss of that time of my life is etched deep into my soul.
I won’t let these kids suffer anymore than they already have.
“Sorry, we are about to close,” Easy calls stepping out of the row stopping short when she sees me standing the foyer of the Shelby-Love Library.