Page 10

"Don't get any stupid ideas now, girls. Let's make this a quick transaction, shall we?" He spits again and wipes the phlegm from his mouth. His body odour is worse than the smell of the van.

"Fuck you," a voice comes from inside, my head jolting to the side fast. That's when I spot another girl sat beside me. Three of them, to be exact. They sit with their knees pressed to their chests, faces blotched and pale.

"What did you just say to me, you little slut?" His voice is sharp as the van shifts under his weight, his body sprawling across me as he lunges an arm out to reach her. I don't move, I can't. Every instinct inside is telling me to help, but fear has already taken over.

The other girls shuffle fast to the edge of the van, pressing their backs to the doors. Their shrieks are loud in my ears and I watch as the horror unfolds, his fingers grabbing towards the older girl—the one whose face is framed with red hair, gaunt, but her green eyes striking.

"She's sorry! She didn't mean it!" a smaller voice screams out. She's tiny, with long, dirty-blonde hair. Her face immature, just like the rest of her. She's a child, a fucking child. Their depravity knows no bounds. I used to think people like this only existed in movies, but how wrong was I.

I swallow down the bile as he moves from me, my heart breaking as I watch another girl, a little older with brown curls, wrap herself around the redhead. At least they have each other. The guilt tries to surface—no. I'm already carrying too much. I'm already struggling to survive.

"Another..." he pants, "word..."

Of course, he pants. He weighs over 200 lbs, and you can smell the cigarettes under his clothes mingling in with the body odour from his pits. He's a walking cliché. I'd laugh, if he didn't have my life dangling from the palm of his hand.

The van sways as he jumps out, slamming the doors behind him. I flinch at the noise, his footsteps loud as he crosses to the front seat, climbing inside. I hear him clear his throat and spit phlegm out of the window as he fumbles with the key in the ignition. His hands start messing with the radio, but once it's on, it blares static into the air, screeching against my ears. Thankfully, it soon settles into an old song, and for a second, I'm no longer in the van. I'm back with my mother, who danced with us as children.

It hurts to think of her. I wonder what she'd say if she knew what I'd gotten us into. She'd probably expect it, honestly. Through my teenage years we'd butt heads a lot. I wasn't exactly the easiest to love…always sneaking out, breaking rules, kissing boys I had no right to be kissing. But that's the point, isn't it? In growing up? Rosa wasn't like that; she was the apple of Mum's eye.

And I didn't fight hard enough to save her.

The memory plays behind my eyelids, my mum's sweet voice flooding my ears as she sings. God, I miss you, Mum. If you can hear me, please save us. Please.

The fat man coughs up front, a scowl crossing my brows as I'm pulled from the memory and back into reality. I can't even have a brief moment with my mother in my mind, what else are they going to take? His breath is loud as he inhales the first drag of his cigarette, filling the air with smoke that stings my eyes. The engine grinds to life, forcing us to lurch forward as he moves, dust rising in the rear-view as the house shrinks behind us. I press my knees closer together, willing myself not to throw up. I let my gaze linger on the girls, the smallest one's eyes locking with mine. I try to smile, to give her something to hold on to, even if it's empty.

She shuffles quickly beside me as the van moves, swaying us left and right. I try to hold on, but there's nothing but the hard floor.

"Hi." Her voice is small, almost a whisper. She drops her gaze quickly.

I lean in, keeping my voice low so he won't hear. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" I'm not sure I can handle her answer, but I have to ask.

She shakes her head, tears streaking down her cheeks. "No, but he says whoever buys me might." Her voice wobbles. "I just want to go home. I want my mum."

Me too, sweetheart. Me too. I take her hand, squeezing it a little tighter, hoping she'll know I'm here and that I'm not going anywhere. I don't know if it's for her or more for me, but the way her soft hand fits in mine offers the tiniest comfort I didn't know how badly I needed.

"What's your name?" I ask, my voice soft, trying not to scare her.

She blinks, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "Annabelle." Her voice is so small it barely reaches me. Such a little girl's voice, she can't be more than fifteen. What the fuck are they going to do to this small girl? She's just a child. I swallow down the tears, refusing to let her see me cry. God, why do I do this? Offer myself as some sort of emotional blanket for everyone else when inside all I want is someone to tell me everything will be okay?

"I'm Amora," I whisper, pushing away all the feelings in my chest. I try to give her a smile, but I know she can see how fake it is.

The van rattles down empty roads, sunlight growing stronger, painting everything in thin gold. My mind races through every impossible scenario: If we all rushed him at once, could we overpower him? Could we run, scatter into the trees, vanish before he could stop us? Annabelle's breath comes in quick bursts; her fingers still tangled with mine. The silence sits heavy between us, filled only by the fat man's humming and the squeak of the shocks.

Annabelle leans closer. "Do you think there's any way out of this?" There's a whisper of hope in her voice, but it flickers fast.

No. Yes. Maybe, I don't know. How can I promise this kid something that I'm not even sure of? I could be walking us into our death, but we need to try. We can't just die here.

"We need to make one. There's four of us," I murmur, though I don't believe it. "If we work together⁠—"

"You'll get us all killed," the redhead chirps up, her voice cold. I remember once Rosa borrowed my favourite red top. God, I loved it so much that when she burnt it with the iron, I wanted to punch her so hard that I had to lock myself away just to stop me from doing it.

Every time this girl talks, I get that exact feeling. Except this time there's no door to hide behind to stop me.

"No, no, we can't." Annabelle shakes her head, panic rising, voice trembling and sharp.

"We just have to wait for the right moment," I say, desperation creeping in, but the words feel thin.

"You're delusional if you think we're getting out of this alive if we try anything," the redhead pipes up again, her voice low and hopeless.