Lost in Her (Lost Duet #2)

Prologue

Present

They always lock the doors, but today, they didn’t. They were too busy getting off on the films to notice that the door was left unlocked. I take a deep breath as I slowly stand and make my way to the door.

I can hear the moaning from the other side.

I know what those men are doing. They are all getting off on the take they just had me do repeatedly.

They made me do it until my father thought it was perfect.

He doesn’t care what this is doing to me.

He only cares about the money I am bringing in.

He is wealthy from my abuse. He is wealthy from making me do things no father would ever have their daughter do, but just like my mother was, I am a cash ticket, that is all.

I slowly lift my shaky hand and grab onto the doorknob.

I feel my heart racing so fast. It is now or never.

They may never forget to lock the door again.

They even forgot to put my chains back on.

Men are all the same. They only want one thing from you, and once they get it, they throw you away like trash. That is what my father taught me.

I take a deep breath as I turn the doorknob and slowly push the door open. I peek my head out. They are all in the film room.

I look to the left, but no one—all of them are in there watching the take.

I push the door open more as I slowly slip out of the door and into the dark hallway.

I turn to the left and see the exit sign over the door.

Why they lock us all up so close to the exit doors, I will never know.

Maybe because they think none of us are stupid enough to try and run, and before, I wouldn’t be, but it has been fourteen years.

Fourteen years of me being my father’s cash ticket, and I know if I don’t try and escape now, I will die here. Die being their sex slave.

I slowly make my way down the hallway. With each step, my heartbeat gets faster and faster.

I stand in front of the exit door and push on it, trying my hardest not to make a sound.

If they hear me, I fear the punishment that will follow.

I wouldn’t survive what they would do to me. What my father would do to me.

I slowly continue to push the door open until there is enough room for me to get out.

I don’t need much room. I am skinny. My bones are showing from the lack of food they give me.

Another condition they have made me learn.

I don’t eat until the job is done. I don’t eat until my father is happy with the results of the take, which sometimes takes days.

I have learned to not need food as much. I can survive. I always have.

I slide out of the door, turning around quickly, making sure when it shuts, it doesn’t make a sound. I have gotten good at being quiet. You need to learn to not make a sound if you want to survive.

I quickly make my way down the stairs, looking both ways down the alley. It is quiet, just past lunchtime. I look to the right and see the woods. I just need to make it to the woods.

I always found it funny how my father decided to put the porn studio next to a nightclub, but then again, my father has soundproofed the studio so no one can hear our screams. Believe me, I have tried.

I slowly make my way down the alley toward the nightclub and the woods. I use the stone wall to keep myself up as each step gets me closer and closer to my freedom. I see a beer van not that far away from me. The back door to the club is open and getting restocked for tonight.

I have dreamed a million times over what it would be like to just be a normal girl to go to a nightclub, have fun with the girls, flirt with boys, and not have to worry about what hides in the shadows.

But no matter how free I am, I don’t think I will ever get to be that simple girl living a simple life, not after what I have been raised in. There is nothing normal about me.

I stop dead in my tracks as I see a few men walk out of the back door, talking and grabbing more beer.

One of the men stops and looks at me. His eyes are deadlocked onto me. There is concern and sadness in his eyes as he looks me up and down. He slowly puts down the beer box and takes a few steps forward toward me.

I don’t move. I can’t. I am frozen. I don’t know what to do. All I know is I need to get to those woods.

“Are you okay?” The man asks in a calm and soft voice.

All I can do is shake my head. He takes another step towards me and slowly pulls something out of his pocket. It is a phone. I go to take a step back, but he slowly shakes his head, and for some reason, I listen.

Maybe it is because I am conditioned to listen to men, or maybe it is because I can see the softness in his eyes. I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me, but I do know he won’t hurt me.

He looks down at his phone and starts typing. A second later, he brings his phone up to his ear. His eyes stay on me as I lean against the wall. I feel my legs starting to shake. I am weaker than I thought.

“Em, I need you to come down to the club,” he states softly.

I watch him closely as he listens to whatever the person is saying on the other side of the phone.

“I am in the back alley. I think I found someone that needs our help,” he states in a calm but concerned voice. He keeps his eyes on me, both trying to figure out each other. Why would a stranger want to help out of the blue?

He slowly nods as the person responds to him.

“Okay, sweetheart. Leave the kids with Oliver. I will see you in five, okay?” he states.

He smiles and nods again. “I love you, too, Angel.”

He slowly lowers his hands and puts his phone in his back pocket.

“My wife is on the way. She can help. We can help you,” he states softly, trying to show me he is not a threat, but I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any man, no matter how nice they seem.

I have seen what a nice man can do to you, and I have had nice men take from me and take and take.

“Why?” I ask in a shaky, low voice.

“Because we can,” he states calmly, taking a deep breath. His breathing is steady.

“I don’t trust you,” I state in a stern voice.

“I don’t blame you, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to help you,” he states, still in a calm voice.

There is no rage in his eyes, no anger, just concern and worry, which is strange to me.

The men who use me never have concern and worry in their eyes, only desire and longing in the darkest kind of way.

I don’t respond. I just slowly nod and slowly slide down the wall. I lean my head against the wall as I rest my hands in my lap. He takes another small step towards me, then slowly kneels.

“Everything is going to be okay,” the man states, looking into my eyes, I want to look away. I want to run, but I can’t. I can’t stop looking into his eyes, and I can’t run. I know I wouldn’t make it that far.

“What is your name?” I don’t know why I asked, but I wanted to know who this man was.

“My name is Shawn Cross. My wife Emory will be here soon, and we will take you somewhere safe,” he states in a low voice.

“Where?” I ask, feeling the fear and anxiety starting to build up in me again.

“Somewhere they can’t hurt you anymore,” he states confidently, slowing my heart rate.

I slowly nod and allow the tears to escape my eyes and roll down my face. It is dangerous for me to stay in this spot. It is dangerous that I am trusting a man I don’t know, but honestly, I have no other choice.

“Phil,” Shawn states in a stern but calm voice.

“Yeah,” the man yells from the van.

“Move the van behind her, please,” Shawn states, keeping his eyes on me.

“Yes, boss,” the man states. I watch the man quickly close the back of the van and make his way to the driver’s side. He slides in and closes the door. I watch the guy turn on the van and start to move it as Shawn just asked him to.

He knows. He knows without me telling him that I am afraid. That I am terrified, but the feeling I get from him is not dangerous. It is the opposite.

No matter what happens, it can’t be worse than what I just escaped from. Nothing is worse than that.