Chapter 5 #3
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.
I’ll never see my friends or family again. I’ll never have a chance to live my life.
Sitting on the toilet and ignoring the man staring at me, I go pee. Glancing around, I spot a window, but it’s too small to climb out of. My only hope would be getting away and running out the door.
After I wipe myself and pull up my underwear, the man reaches for my hands to tie them back up, and I know it’s now or never. I probably won’t make it out the door, but I have to try.
Pretending like I’m complying, I put my hands out, only when he’s about to wrap my hands with the rope, I raise my knee and hit him directly in the groin.
He stumbles back enough that I’m able to run by him, into the hallway.
I see the door, and I run as fast as I can.
Only I’m not fast enough, and before I make it, I’m tugged back by my hair.
The man brings me to the floor, but I refuse to give up without a fight.
I kick and scream and slap at him. I hit him once in the face for sure before he slaps me across the face for a second time.
He climbs on top of me and pins my wrists above my head.
“You fucking bitch,” he growls. “I should fuck your ass right now to teach you a lesson!”
“Please,” I beg, tears blurring my vision. “Please, don’t do this. I-I’m a—”
“A virgin?” He laughs, and it sounds psychotic. This guy is crazy. “I know. I’m going to get twice as much because of it, too.” Oh my God! How does he even know that? Has he been stalking me?
“Let’s go.” He lifts me and ties my hands behind my back again.
Once we’re in his office, he ties me to the desk. “I’ll be back,” he says as he walks away, closing and locking the door behind him.
I try to listen, but there’s nothing to hear.
It’s dead silent. He must’ve really left.
I consider screaming for help, but he’s not stupid, and he wouldn’t have left me here without covering my mouth if anybody could hear me.
So instead, I lean back against the desk and cry—for my brother and his loss of life, and then for me and the life I’m about to lose.
I don’t know how long I’m crying for, but when I hear a door open, I start to scream for help. It’s probably just the man who took me, but what if it’s someone else.
As I’m screaming as loud as I can, hoping whoever is on the other side isn’t the man who took me, I see the doorknob jiggle.
I hold my breath, but when the door doesn’t open, I start to scream again.
A few minutes later, the door pops open, pieces of the doorjamb splintering and falling to the floor, and in walks a man, dressed in a suit.
When his eyes meet mine, I recognize him immediately.
I would remember those eyes, that face, that body from anywhere.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growls.