Fear.
It had been all she felt during those first days, weeks, and months after she’d been snatched off the streets and disappeared into the world of human trafficking. But over time, it dulled. She learned how to retreat, block out what these monsters did to her, and so she lulled herself into a hazy world where she wasn't really present. There was no fear in her special little world, but now that she’d been taken out of the house, the walls she’d built around herself were cracking a little.
Of course, it wasn't that she wanted to go back. Maya hated Master, and she would love to stick a knife in his chest and watch him bleed out before her, but she knew what to expect there, knew what he liked, how to avoid his wrath, and there was a safety in that. Almost a comfort.
The unknown was what terrified her.
How could she protect herself against unknown threats?
“Let’s get her in the car,” someone said.
Not the man whose arms she hung in, but one of the others. His voice was hard, dangerous, and she could feel the tension hanging in the air, slowly smothering her as the parts of her mind she’d shoved far away came creeping back.
Who were these people?
What were they going to do with her?
“Keys are sitting in it,” another voice said. “And it’ll be quicker to get her out than the way we came in. Can't exactly expect her to swim out to the rendezvous point. We can call in a helicopter instead to transport her out.”
Transport her where, though?
Swimming was out, the man was right about that, but she was for sure not getting on a helicopter with these men. Wasn't getting into a car with them either.
Only she had no idea how to stop that from happening, because the man carrying her suddenly stopped beside a vehicle, then reached out and carefully set her inside it.
He was being awfully careful with her for someone who was abducting her. Maybe she was being sold again? Master wasn't the first person to have bought her over the years. She’d had two previous owners before she wound up here. It was possible these men were traffickers, and she was being taken to be prepped for resale. That would make sense that they didn't want her battered and bruised if she was about to go up for auction all over again.
“It’s going to be okay now,” the man whispered as he slid into the car behind her.
Yeah, sure it is.
If she were still the old Maya, she would have rolled her eyes at that. Instead, she kept still, making herself as small a target as possible.
But something was changing inside her.
Determination was creeping back in.
This was the closest chance at freedom she’d had in a long time, and she didn't want to waste it. Living trapped inside her mind was better than living in the real world, but more than that, she wanted to escape, to be free again even if freedom meant death. Death didn't scare her, spending the rest of her life as some sick pervert’s sex slave was what scared her.
“Anything?” someone asked as more people climbed into the car.
“Nothing yet, but she’s in there somewhere, I can feel it,” the man beside her spoke, and his hand reached out, hesitated briefly, before smoothing a lock of her matted hair off her cheek, and tucking it behind her ear.
If she didn't know any better, Maya would actually think the gesture was tender, sweet. But she no longer believed in sweetness, in tenderness. Whatever game the man was trying to play with her, she wasn't engaging.
They thought she was checked out, and they weren't completely wrong.
Only it seemed her survival instincts weren't completely wiped out. Because she had no intention of getting on a helicopter with these men, which meant she had to make her move before they got out of this car.
Freedom was within her grasp, and she wasn't wasting this opportunity.
When they started to drive, Maya kept her body relaxed, her limbs heavy. Years of practice made it easy, and she blocked out the men’s chatter. She didn't care what they were saying, all she cared about was getting out of this car.
Focusing her gaze out the window, she saw trees lining the small road, the jungle pressing in close.
Perfect.
No one had put a seat belt on her, and they weren't expecting her to do anything because they thought she was already broken. Which she was. Only in a way they didn't understand. Broken but determined to die on her own terms. If she couldn’t be in control of her life, she could at least be in control of her death.
