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Unloaded, because we were human cargo.
My heart battered the walls of my chest.
This is life or death.
I shoved away my anxiety and terror, just like I had every time Angel got involved with some creep who got drunk and smacked her around. Walls were thin in cheap motel rooms and dingey apartments. I’d slapped a smile on my face many times and distracted Waverly from the sounds of crying and pain. I’d protected my younger sister the best I could—and I’d do that now.
For Sailor.
And then, for myself.
“How did you get here?” Sailor asked.
“I was in a parking lot—” I said “—when a van pulled up.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. There was a plastic thing in between my wheel and the car so it was making this weird crunching noise. I got out to see what it was, and they grabbed me before I could get back in the car… Sailor, these are evil men. They—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “I’ve seen videos about human trafficking. Oh my God, we’re going to die, aren’t we?”
“Don’t think like that. How long has it been? When did they take you?”
“I work at a fast-food joint. I was dumping the trash out back. That’s when they snatched me. They drugged me. I’ve been in and out of it…I think it was a day or two ago. I’m so tired…”
“Your parents must be worried sick about you,” I said, trying to get her to at least think of the people she loved.
She let out a laugh that sounded far too sardonic for a sixteen-year-old. “My dad’s a drunk. He spends more time in a bar than he does at home. I doubt he’ll even notice I’m gone.”
“And your mom?”
“Died when I was a baby.”
I didn’t offer my condolences. It would just come off as pity. The drone of the truck’s engine continued as we bumped up and down the road.
“Any siblings?” I asked.
“No.” She paused for a moment. “You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”
“Yeah… Is it working?”
“Kind of. What about you? What about your family?”
“I have a sister your age. I was on my way to pick her up from school.” I sighed. “And I just got engaged.”
“No…”
“Yeah.” I swallowed hard.
“What about your parents?” she asked.
I thought about what Sailor had confided in me and admitted, “My mother is a stripper. She ran off with some random guy. She’s somewhere in Alabama. Or Arkansas. I have no idea really. My dad bailed when I was young.”
“So, you take care of your sister?”
“Yes.”
Oh God, Waverly.
