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“Not to you. To herself. Is she still intact?” he barks angrily.
“Yeah, I called the physician as soon as I’d dealt her punishment. It seems I got to her before she could do any damage.”
“Tell Raphael I’m taking her back with me now.” My trainer stands up on his feet, looking down at me as if I’m something rotten on his shoe.
“But you still have three to take to auction. You're gonna be out of town for days.”
“I’m taking her. You can tell Raphael to get someone else to do transportation with the others. If he’s got a problem, he can contact me. I should never have left you in charge of her.”
“No one can get hold of him, not since his brother was killed. It seems he’s having some kinda breakdown.”
“Not my fucking problem. Take the bitches to California yourself for all I give a shit. This girl is coming back upstairs with me.” His hand yanks at my wrists and pulls me to my feet, but I’m too weak to stand. I’ve been beaten too hard.
“You deserve a lot worse for what you tried to do, Muñequita.” My trainer pulls me close and whispers, “I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on you.”
“Lydia.” I feel myself shaking. The hands on me are firm but don’t hurt anymore, and when I open my eyes, it’s Grace that’s touching me, not my trainer. Suddenly everything that came before that moment hits me. More flashes, more memories. My trainer telling me he needed to leave for a few days. I was tired and disoriented, but I stood on my own feet as I walked down the stairs. There were bars everywhere, cries and sobs echoing from the low ceilings, but it was too dark to see beyond the bars.
“Keep your eyes on the floor, look up, and I’ll scrape them out, understand?” my trainer snarls, and I do as he says. A clicking metal sound comes after I’m tossed into one of the cells. It’s dark and cold, and I cling to the tiny top I was wearing for comfort.
“You must stay down here with the others while I’m gone. Be a good girl while I’m away,” he warns me through the cell door.
The space around me is different. There are bars in front of me and no windows. The floor is damp and cold, and the walls feel rough against my palms. This is where I woke up when I first arrived here. Why am I back here?
I want to get out in any way I can, even if it means taking my own life. It’s not really mine anymore, anyway.
I look around for something, anything, that can take me out of this misery. I can’t take another beating from my trainer, or worse, have him touch me again and call it a secret like it's something precious between us.
There’s nothing I can use, and the sound of dripping water is irritating me already. I wonder if it's clean because I'm thirsty. I feel around the walls trying to find where it’s coming from, but I’m fumbling in the darkness, and it feels kinda hopeless. Then I feel cool metal beneath my fingertips, and the wet droplets drip over my fingers. I lick them, enjoying the moisture it brings to my mouth, and then I reach up a little higher and wrap my hands around the pipe they’ve come out of. It’s about an inch around, and it moves when I rattle it.
I wonder if there’s a way to end your life with a metal pipe? If it would be possible to hit yourself hard enough with it? Maybe I could rip it from the wall and make a sharp enough edge to cut through the skin or ram through my throat.
I pull harder, using my feet as leverage against the wall. It rattles as I pull, and I keep on tugging, willing the pipe to break free. My heart pounds in my chest. My muscles are weak because I haven’t used them properly in so long. But eventually, it loosens, and I fly back against the cell door, clutching the pipe in my hand, keeping it tight to my chest.
The piece I have isn’t very long or sharp, and a fresh idea comes into my head. I check through the bars for someone who might be watching, trying to block out the sounds of crying and the dripping water. Drip, drip, drip. Maybe if I’m not of value to them, they will kill me themselves.
I look at the pipe in my hand, and I know what I’m about to do won’t be pleasant, but the alternative seems so much worse. This will end it all. No more training, no more him. If my virginity is worth my life to them, then they can take that instead because at least that will be my choice.
I realize I’ve relayed all my horrors to Grace when she stares back at me in shock.
“I just wanted the choice to be mine,” I tell her weakly. “But I was caught. Another man was there, a guard. He took the pipe from me before I… before I could.”
“Oh god,” Grace quickly wraps her arms around me and squeezes me so tight it forces out more tears. “He beat me until I passed out, and then he must have called my trainer back because when I came back around, he used that pipe, and he beat me too.”
“Lydia, you're shaking. Don’t push yourself anymore.”
“He used to bring that pipe to the room with him after that and beat me with it. I remember it now. It was to torment me. To remind me of how desperate I had become and how he controlled me.” Suddenly I feel exhausted, and my head splits with pain.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Grace continues to hold me close.
“Will any of it help find Storm's sister?” I need something positive to focus on. Going back is so traumatic. Deep down, I already know it isn’t enough and that I’ll have to go back again.
“Everything helps, Lydia, but you mustn’t put too much pressure on yourself.” Her hand rubs up and down my back, trying to ease me. And we both jump when the door bursts open and Brax barges through it.
“Everything okay?” he frowns when he sees us so close together.
“Fine,” I quickly wipe my hand over my eyes.
“Look, we got to go. The club's moving in on that crank house.” There’s a sparkle in Brax’s eyes that I’ve never noticed there before, like he just bit into something he really likes the taste of. “You good here?” he asks me, snatching his cut from the deer antlers next to the door and shrugging it onto his shoulders.
