Page 10 of Defending Van

She wanted to live.

Ever since that night, Lilly’s sacrifice had stayed with her, motivating her not to give in to the anger at how unfair her childhood had been, and instead build the life Lilly was never able to have. It had served her well over the years. She was proud of who she was and what she did for a living. She had a full life, a job that was mentally and physically draining but so rewarding, lots of friends who she loved to death, and hopes for a family of her own one day. Children who would never worry about where their next meal was coming from or if they were going to be beaten for simply existing.

These people didn't get to take that from her just to make some money.

“I'm going to get us out of here,” she corrected, rubbing at her bruised wrist, which still ached when the pain in her backside dulled enough to remind her of it.

“It didn't work last time,” Tammy whined. She was the other woman who had been huddled in the corner when Makayla first woke up here, and only Tammy and Debra had been unwilling to try to make an escape when the door had opened earlier. Having those two work with them wouldn't have made a difference, it still would have been six of them against eight traffickers.

Those weren't terrible odds, though, and if she could find them a weapon of some sort, or an advantage, she was sure she could get them all out of here.

“Doesn’t mean it won't next time, or the time after that, or the time after that. However long it takes. I'm not going to stop. Never going to give up.”

“Aren't you scared?” Bethany asked in a whisper.

“Terrified,” she admitted easily. “But if I only acted when I wasn't scared, I would have spent most of my life rocking in the corner.” While it wasn't like she went around giving her sob story to every person she met, Makayla had always been open about the abuse she’d suffered at the hands of her biological and foster parents. Now she needed these women to know that it was absolutely possible to function while terrified if you wanted it badly enough. “I was abused as a child. The first time I remember being hit, I was two. It was a regular thing. Being starved, locked out of the house or in a cupboard, made to take freezing cold showers because I didn't deserve warm water. That was my life.”

“Were you … you know … raped?” Cecilia asked gently.

“I was five the first time. My mother said it was the only way to get some good into me if I sat on my dad’s lap for a while. I screamed at the pain, cried, but quickly learned that it was happening regardless, so I accepted it and did my best to find a way to get myself help. Eventually, I told a teacher what was happening to me at home. That was the first time I was removed from my parents.”

“First time?” Crystal asked with a gulp.

“Yep. My parents hated me. Mom thought I was possessed by the devil, and my dad was usually drunk and just did whatever my mom told him to. Even though they hated me, they always wanted me back. I guess my mom enjoyed hurting me more than she hated me. I was sent back four times, and it only got worse with each one. A lot of the foster families I was sent to weren't much better. But you know what I learned?”

“What?” Tammy asked.

“That life sucks. But even when you're not in control of what's happening to you, you're in control of how you react to it. That doesn’t mean pretending I'm not scared, or that being caned didn't hurt like hell. It just means that the only one who can make me give up is me.”

“They’ll break us,” Debra whimpered.

“Only if you let them.”

“I've never been hit or raped before,” Bethany said, her voice wobbling. “I don’t know how to be strong like you.”

“Things are only hopeless if we let them be. There are six of us, eight of them. Those aren't terrible odds. If we work together as a team, we can figure out a plan. I'm sure that we can find a way out.”

“I don’t think I can handle being hit like you were,” Tammy said with a shudder, and Debra and Bethany quickly nodded their assent.

‘That’s okay. You don’t have to stand up to them the way I am. You can comply and do as you're told so they don’t hurt you, just don’t give up, believe that we can find a way,” she urged them. If they couldn’t fight alongside her, she’d fight on her own, but it would be so much easier if she had a team at her back, even if they weren't experienced in surviving hell.

Before anyone could say anything else, there was a sound on the other side of the door. No one had come to them since they were stripped of their clothing, so they hadn't eaten since they were abducted. At least they had the toilet, and some running water from the sink, although the shower didn't work, so they’d been able to take care of business, remain hydrated, and Makayla had been able to wash her wounds as best as she could.

They were all ravenous, though, and when the door swung open, and two of the men walked in carrying plates of sandwiches, she was sure hers wasn't the only one whose stomach rumbled loudly at the sight of food. Her mouth watered, and she could practically taste the soft white bread already. She didn't even care what was in the sandwiches, anything would taste good right now.

“Who’s hungry?” one of the men asked in a silly sing-song voice, as he kicked the door closed behind him, obviously not wanting a repeat of last time’s escape attempt.

None of them answered. She was sure the others kept quiet out of fear, but to her, that was clearly a rhetorical question meant to taunt them, and she wasn't into playing games.

“You want to eat, you get down on your knees, head bent and looking at the floor, hands palms down on your thighs,” the other informed them.

Bethany, Debra, and Tammy barely hesitated before they complied. Crystal held out a little longer, but then went down on her knees. Cecilia looked over to Makayla, a question in her eyes, and assuming the woman wanted reassurance that it was okay to do as they were told to avoid punishment, she gave her a small nod.

Didn't matter how hungry she was, she wasn't getting on her knees for anyone.

“You know you’ll be punished for disobeying and not get anything to eat,” the first man said to her.

“I'm not afraid of you, and I'm not afraid of being punished. I'm not going to submit to you. Not now, not ever, no matter what you do to me,” she said firmly, wondering if perhaps one of them would have to leave the room again to get an implement to hit her with. If they did, she was close enough to the door that she might be able to catch a glimpse of the code. If she could get the code, escaping would be smooth sailing.