Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Was it possible for darkness to hurt?
If anyone had asked Emma just twenty-four hours ago, she would have sworn that it wasn't. It could be scary, sure, because monsters hid in the dark. It could even be dangerous since you couldn’t see properly, making it easier to slip, fall, or crash into something.
But not painful.
Never painful.
Only she’d been wrong.
Because sitting there with the heavy weight of a metal cuff around her ankle, securing her to the wall of wherever it was she was being held, surrounded by thick, complete darkness, she could confidently assure anyone that darkness could be painful.
It pressed down on her, slowly crushing her and smothering the life out of her, and the weight of it had her entire body aching.
Emma was sure part of the pain was from lack of nutrition since she’d been taken, the blows her body took when she’d tried to run, hours of sitting in cramped conditions, and the drugs she’d been given to transport her quietly and easily.
But some of it was the dark, she knew that it was.
There was nothing to do there. When she first woke up, there had been a wave of panic that had her clawing at the metal cuff around her ankle until her fingernails were bloody and ripped and her ankle was rubbed raw.
Following that, she was flooded with anger.
She’d yelled and screamed, cursing the man who had bought her and threatening to kill him if she got her hands on him.
After that, there was a calm, a kind of deadly calm, like being in the eye of a storm.
With it had come the knowledge that she had to be smart.
Relying on anyone else was only going to get her killed or stuck there indefinitely, so she had to determine her own way out.
So thoroughly, with great care and attention, she’d examined every inch of the cell she was trapped in.
The conclusion she’d come to was that she wasn't getting out.
The floor seemed to be made of tightly packed dirt.
At first, she thought she might be able to dig her way out, but she quickly dismissed that illusion.
Maybe if she had a tool of some sort, she might have been able to manage it, but not with her bare hands.
Likewise, the walls were thick mud, thick enough that without any windows, they were able to completely block out any light the sun might have given her.
She wasn't getting out of this room unless somebody let her out.
Once she’d come to accept that as fact, there was nothing else to do but sit and wait.
Which also gave her far too much time to think. In the world she’d been thrust into, thinking was dangerous. Thinking made you lose hope. Hope might be a stupid thing to hold onto right now, but what else did she have?
Without hope, she had to believe she was never getting rescued, never going home, never seeing her mom and dad, her sisters, her nieces and nephews, her friends and colleagues. Never going back to the job she adored, and all the little kids that counted on her.
If she didn't have hope, she had no reason to live.
And that once again proved that too much time to think was dangerous.
Because with all this time to think, she was starting to believe that death was the better option.
What did she have to look forward to in the future? Being raped and tortured? That was it. Eventually, the man who had bought her would tire of her, she’d get too old, or too ugly, or too broken, and then he’d kill her and move on to another woman.
But if she could convince him to want to get rid of her quicker, then she would eliminate weeks or months, or maybe even years of suffering for herself. Emma was sure she could make the man angry enough, all she had to do was the opposite of whatever he ordered her to do.
Should be easy enough.
Maybe he’d find it amusing at first, but if she kept doing it, surely that would make him furious enough to lose control.
Never would she have thought she’d ever be in a place where she welcomed death.
But then again, she’d never anticipated being kidnapped by human traffickers.
Life had always been a fun and exciting place, it hadn't always been easy, but she’d been happy.
This life was the opposite of that, so it was hard to be afraid of death when it was by far the better alternative.
A shuffling sound had her head snapping up from where it had been resting on her knees. Other than that, she didn't move, remaining in the corner of the room furthest from the door, with her arms wrapped around her legs, as small a target as possible.
Just because she was no longer afraid of dying didn't mean she wasn't afraid of the pain that would come before it.
A rush of light lit up her cell, and pain stabbed behind her eyes as she was forced to snap them closed.
Damn headache hadn't dimmed since she was knocked unconscious, and she was sure the drugs and lack of water weren't helping with the suspected concussion.
Add in some dehydration, and she was a weak, shaky mess, which did not bode well for any escape plans she might conjure up if an opportunity presented itself.
Light footsteps padded toward her, and when she squinted through partially closed lids, she could see that the person before her was a young boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen.
He looked at her with interest, and she hated to think of the world he was raised in if he looked at her—a mostly naked woman being held prisoner—with interest instead of anger or at least pity.
“Master is ready for you,” he informed her like she cared in the least what the man who had bought her was ready for.
Since she didn't have any strength to spare, she didn't bother offering a comment.
Nor did she waste useless energy making a move when he reached down and unsnapped the chain from the manacle on her ankle.
The boy produced a new chain, one like the guards at the auction had used, and snapped it onto the collar she still wore locked around her neck.
Being paraded around like a pet made her blood heat, but she forced herself to control it. Now wasn't the time to do anything stupid. If she wanted a shot at living, she had to be smart.
Led through the tiny, round hut, there were only two other spaces outside the one she’d been locked in, they stepped out into fresh air.
There were a few more huts like the one she’d been kept in, and a little further away was a larger brick building that was obviously the main house.
It was grand, with a wraparound porch and even a small turret, and was quite clearly where the man who had bought her lived.
The landscape was beautiful, she’d always wanted to visit Africa, but not like this.
Still, the grasses waving in the gentle breeze, and the umbrella acacia trees scattered about were gorgeous.
With the setting sun, under any other circumstances, she would have been enthralled by the view.
“Good evening, my little pet,” the man who bought her drawled as she was walked toward him. “You should not be standing in my presence. On your knees. Crawl to me.”
Yeah, that wasn't happening.
Apparently, her defiance was expected because the boy slammed his bare foot into the side of her knee, making pain stab through her leg as she went down hard.
Her already cut-up knees protested being down on them, but with too many men standing around, watching her with a hunger that made her skin crawl, she knew she had no chance of running and getting away.
So she swallowed her pride and crawled.
The boy holding what could only be described as her leash, made her crawl across the rough ground until she was in front of her buyer.
“You are tonight’s entertainment, little pet,” he announced, and he said it so confidentially that she laughed.
Actually laughed.
Which, granted, wasn't her brightest move.
Still, the blow to the side of her head caught her by surprise, and her buyer glared down at her. “I don’t tolerate insolence. Fight is fine, fun even, but not insolence. Never insolence.”
Storing away the fact that he hated to be laughed at for future use, Emma just glared back at him. If he was going to rape her, she’d kick and claw at him, show him how much fight she had, and make it so it wasn't enjoyable for him or anyone else.
“Not tonight, little pet,” the man said, his glare replaced by a smirk. “You haven’t earned any pleasure yet, so no sex until you know your place. But you have other uses, other holes, that we can put to use.”
As he said the words, his fingers gripped her face, digging into her cheeks until she was forced to part her lips. If he thought he was going to put anything in her mouth, she was going to bite it. Hard. Bite it off if she could. That should make him angry enough to consider killing her.
Seemingly reading her mind, he chuckled again, and one of the other men strolled over with a plastic circle in his hand. “I know exactly what you're thinking, little pet. Do you think you are the first to stay here? You won't be doing any biting, and this will make sure of it.”
With his fingers still gouging into her cheeks, Emma couldn’t close her mouth, and a third man stepped up behind her, gripping her arms and yanking them painfully behind her back, making it almost impossible to move as the man shoved the plastic ring between her lips, forcing her mouth to remain in a wide-open position.
“Come, little pet.” Her buyer took the other end of her lead and made her crawl across the ground toward the porch. As she was forced up the few steps, she could see French doors opening onto a large kitchen with a table piled high with food.
Not that she’d be eating any of it, she was sure.