Chapter 31
Angel
There’s only so many times you can watch the same thing before your mind alters the outcome. Or maybe it’s hope that switches things around.
I’ve seen Lauren leave my house a million times in the last several days.
I’ve watched her stumble on the last step of the front porch and walk off the property without looking back.
But as I rewind the video again, I see her look back, watch her eyes as if she’s standing in front of me, begging me to stop her.
Then the glitch and she’s walking away again.
Over and over, I watch to find that one time she pauses, and I never find it.
My mind made it up. My head is trying to convince me to go after her, to find her, to catch her and tell her I was joking and that untying her was all part of my game.
It wasn’t at the time. She said the words I never thought I’d hear, and I had to hold up my end of the bargain. I gave her that out the first night, and I would’ve bet everything I own that she’d never speak it. Not that she didn’t want to but because she was too damned stubborn for her own good.
I never imagined a fucking nightmare would make her end things, that it would be something in her head rather than the violence in mine that would be the final straw.
I underestimated the pain she’s lived with since childhood.
It’s so fucking stupid of me because I know the power that shit carries.
I scour the video feed for her return. I look into every alert. Even the half second movement ones, knowing it’s going to be a fucking bug or a bird because the alert would’ve been longer if it were her.
Each search is fruitless.
I left the house after cutting her loose because I knew I wouldn’t be able to watch her leave in person. She has no cell phone. I couldn’t follow her any further than the edge of my property.
She’s gone.
I think of the scars she’ll have, a constant reminder of our time together.
I think of her empty belly because I didn’t get the chance to fuck her after cutting her birth control implant from under her skin.
I don’t fucking know how I feel about it.
Knowing Lauren, she’d never go through with a pregnancy anyway. She wouldn’t want anything slowing down her destruction. Having to care for anyone else would contradict just how fucking selfish she is. It would never happen.
The thought of her killing my hypothetical baby makes me see red. It makes me want to track her down, which only makes me feel completely impotent, because I purposely let her leave without being able to find her.
If she wants to be here, she would’ve had to stay or will have to come back on her own.
I grin as I look over at my safe. I have insurance of course. I don’t trust that she won’t get herself killed before coming back, but I know she will.
Waiting for it to happen sucks. That’s why I scheduled a purchase in Tamaulipas for later this evening. I’ll go, get paid, and be back before midnight. With any luck, she’ll be waiting here for me when I return.
***
People don’t change overnight.
It’s very damn seldom that something happens and people see some light that makes them change their ways.
Habits are incredibly hard to break.
Someone on the outside looking in would probably be disgusted to see me sitting in my truck, waiting for the man to show up with my latest purchase.
After finding Lauren beaten and covered in cum, many would want to burn down the world and rid it of every evil person walking the planet.
I know myself enough to not even try.
Besides, dead people don’t pay. I found that out many times before El Salvador changed the way I looked at the world.
The goal is to step on people before they have the chance to step on you—or over you as my life experiences have dictated.
I’m not raiding a trafficking house. I’m not going to kill the man who delivers this woman to me. I’ll take her back to her boyfriend and the trafficker will go back to work.
Lauren would be so ashamed of me.
It’s a low-paying job, but I needed something to fill my time while I wait for my girl to come crawling back to me.
I ensure that the bundle of cash is in the inside pocket of my jacket as I see the car approach, and I scan the area to make sure I’m not about to get jumped.
Getting robbed while buying this girl is just as probable as any other outcome.
Sometimes this happens by other people in the same crew as the sellers, but this park is known for criminal activity and some fuckers are just opportunists.
No one approaches me as I stand by the decrepit picnic table I was instructed to stand by, but I keep my eyes moving from the car to the surrounding areas.
The client told me his girlfriend had been kidnapped just a few days ago, but I can tell she’s already been broken. She doesn’t fight as she’s pulled from the backseat of the car. She walks as fast as the man urges her to despite the black bag over her head.
The transaction is smooth. I hand over the money, and he hands over the woman.
I don’t remove her eye cover as I guide her back to my truck, and I don’t do it even after we’re back on the road heading toward the Texas border. I don’t speak a word to her or try to calm her fears as she sniffles from the passenger seat.
She doesn’t beg for help when the man near the wall helps us across without going through customs.
When I make it to the rendezvous point with the client, I park my truck in front of his car and flash my lights.
I don’t cut the rope on her hands until my phone dings with his payment.
I reach past her and shove open the passenger side door.
“Get out,” I say, and she moves quickly.
She has no fucking clue what’s happening, but she still obeys.
Lauren would never fucking act this way. She probably would’ve tried to claw my face off the second I cut the rope on her hands. That’s why I did it while she was asleep.
I drive off with the woman standing in the middle of a secluded parking lot, not bothering to look in the rearview mirror to see if her boyfriend rushes to her because I don’t give a shit.
Compassion and apathy were beaten out of me long ago.