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I hear the clank of chains, and then somehow, even in the dark room, I can see an outline of a girl standing in front of me. “Hi.” She says softly.
“Who are you?” My voice trembles, thinking maybe this person is somehow against me, too.
“My name is Daniella. What’s your name?”
“I-I’m Cara. Where are we? Why are we here?” I move forward, noticing the clank of chains when I move, too. Looking down, I see my ankles shackled to the wall. I bring my hand down, trying to slip my foot out. No luck. Then I try to break it open and again, no luck.
“I don’t know where we are. If we’re not in Mexico, we’re at least close.”
“Mexico?” Panic grabs ahold of me again and I nearly hyperventilate. The thought of crossing the border is terrifying. I’ll never be found if I leave the country.
“Yeah. They’re going to sell us.” She says, like she’s already come to terms with the fact her life is over.
“What?” I say. Did I hear her correctly?
I can see her nod through the darkness. “Yeah.”
I stand up, ignoring the nausea and dizziness. “Well, we have to get out of here then.”
She laughs. It’s dead. Emotionless. “I’ve tried, Cara. There’s no way out.”
Fire burns me alive. “What do you mean there’s no way out? There has to be. We got in here somehow, we’ll just get out the same way.”
She sighs, falling back into the darkness so she’s only a voice. “There’s no way out. We’re never getting out, Cara.”
My mouth opens to scream, but it’s silent. Painful. Full of grief and loss. I don’t want this to be it. I don’t want my life to be over. I want Jackson. I want Wesley. I want to go home.
We sit in silence for a long time. Minutes maybe, possibly hours. Questions eat at me until I can’t hold them in anymore.
“How old are you?” I ask. Her voice sounds tiny, meek. She can’t be older than me.
“Seventeen.” She sounds younger than that.
“Seventeen? Don’t you think you’ll have family coming for you? They’ll be bound to send out an amber alert or something, right?”
“No. I’m in foster care. I don’t have anyone to look for me.”
My heart breaks for her. If I do find a way out of here, I’ll make it my goal to bring her with me. She can come live with me and I’ll take care of her.
“How do you know this is a… a sex trafficking ring?” The word tastes like bile on my tongue. I’ll end my own life before I’m sold to some rich fucker with an oversized ego.
“I’ve heard them talking. Mumbling. There’s some town over the border… I can’t pronounce it. We’re going there and there is some party or something. That’s where we’re headed. They were talking a lot of money… millions. We’re going to be sold for millions.”
I balk. “H-how? Why?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” She repeats. She keeps repeating it, and an inkling of emotion shines through when her voice cracks. She sounds broken.
“How long have you been here?” I ask softly.
“Three weeks, maybe?”
“Have you seen anyone else? Any other… prisoners?” I choke the word out.
“No. I’ve heard some, though. But I’ve been alone in here, until you.”
This little girl, who has clearly been broken long before she came here, seems helpless. She might have a life story somewhat like mine, and she thinks that’s the end of her story. I might die trying, but I’ll fight like hell to get us out of here.
“We won’t get over the border, Daniella. My boyfriend will come looking for me. I have family looking for me.” And they will. I know with my soul, that if Jackson is still out there alive, he will find me. And he’ll kill anyone that tries to get in his way.
