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Cara
The ride is long.
Bumpy.
Terrifying.
I can hear murmurs of the men in front talking, but they speak Spanish so I can’t understand a word of what they’re saying. I don’t think I even want to know. I choke on my fear and watch the three other girls with me do the same.
I try to watch the landscape, looking for any kind of signs or buildings that I could use if I somehow was able to escape, but the sun has gone down and all I have is the moon submerging the sand into a massive abys.
I wonder if Jackson knows where I am. I wonder if he's even coming for me. I hope he would. If roles were reversed, I would be doing anything I could to get him back. If I know Rose, she would be on her way herself if Jackson and Easton aren't.
I smile.
Rose would tear down the world for something she wanted.
We slow down, and I snap out of my dreams and come back to reality. Daniella reaches over and grabs my hand, and I link my fingers through hers and give her hand a squeeze. The girls across from my link hands as well, and we all four look up and give each other small, nervous looks.
Whatever happens, we're in this together.
I hear the doors slam, and voice start barking at each other. My heart races.
This is it.
I'm either going to be saved, or I'll forever become a memory.
I turn around, pressing my face to the window to try and see what's going on out there. I can't see much besides a few vehicles and more sand.
There are more shadows walking about then there was at our last location though, which makes me nervous. There was no way of getting away from the last beefy guys. There is maybe double that now.
One guy standing near the van turns around, his eyes glowing in the night as they lock with mine. He has a cigarette hanging out of his lips, and I watch as the cherry glows with his inhale. I lower myself so only my eyes are showing. How could he see me, though? These windows are so tinted you can't see a damn thing in this van.
Still, I swear I saw his eyes lock with mine. The evil in them makes my body break out in goosebumps.
When he starts walking towards the back, I shrink down and press myself into the wall of the van. Please don't open the door, please don't open the door.
The door opens, and I curse my luck as his dirty eyes look over each one of us. They linger on our chest and our legs, and I pull the potato sack dress further down my legs, but it doesn't nothing. There's no pull, no give with this dress. It's short, boxy, and extremely uncomfortable.
Four men appear behind him, and he barks at us, "Out. Vàmanos." He waves his hand impatiently, and we all scramble in fear. The men snap into action, each grabbing one of us in a tight grip.
I can see better out here, and I watch as vans move about, men with huge guns strapped around their shoulders barking orders at the next guy. Fuck, there are so many guns.
Up ahead of me, I see a huge gate like wall, and I swallow as I realize what it is.
That's the wall.
Mexico is only yards away.
I look over my shoulder. Come on, Jackson. Where are you?
"¿Qué diablos estás haciendo? We don't have all day. Move!" One of them slaps one of the girl's asses, and then they all start laughing, joking around and slapping our asses. They speak Spanish again and I can only imagine the vile, disgusting things they’re saying about us.
Every time a palm connects with my backside, I cringe. Curl a little further into myself. We all move faster, hoping to get away from their hands and disgusting laughter.
The closer we get to the wall, the less hope I have that I'll be saved. That any of us will be saved.
In the distance, it looks like there's some man-made tunnel, and I imagine the claustrophobia I'll feel if I have to make my way through that. How far down does it go?
