Chapter 7

SEVEN

Hollis

"Somebody shut her up," one of the women complained.

The new girl hadn't stopped crying since they dumped her in the room in the middle of the night. She was pale as milk, and the bruises stood against her thighs like irises. Her red hair pooled over one ear that had a bit of blood dripping from it. Curled into the fetal position, she sobbed as if her heart was breaking. We'd been told we would be next if we went near her .

"Her crying doesn't hurt us," I murmured. Maybe we couldn't comfort each other, but there wasn't anything stopping her from making noise yet, and if that was all the freedom she was allowed, then at least she had the opportunity to grieve. I looked away from the huddled figure, feeling like a coward.

The woman who spoke glared obstinately at me. "If she brings the guards, then who knows what will happen. We could be next."

"We know what will be next," another woman said with resignation.

Neither was wrong. We did not know what was next. The possibility of rape wasn't far from our minds. We'd all been kidnapped and dragged from our lives to this dingy place. A few of the women had already been raped before they got to this location, but all of us had been violated in one way or another.

"What's your name?" I asked the woman next to me quietly, eyeing the guards carefully. She was pretty, with blonde hair and eyes that were deep indigo, but she looked as if she was on edge somehow, even in the look she gave me now.

"I'm not sure why it matters," she rolled her eyes at me and sighed. "Beth. My name is Beth." Picking at her nail polish, she gave me a dismissive wave. "Well?

"Hollis Evans."

"Nice to meet you, Hollis Evans," she quirked up a corner of her mouth. "Maybe we'll be okay. I doubt it," she said with a shrug but reached out a hand to grasp mine. "Where'd they take you from?"

"A grocery store in California," I said dimly.

"Huh." She looked surprised.

"Why? Where did they get you from? "

"Strip club in Arkansas. The alley. I was stupid, but I needed a smoke. Jonesing for one pretty bad right now. This is pretty fucked up."

We were being kept in a dingy warehouse, far from clean, with high, grimy windows lining the distant walls and skylights set high into the ceilings. The air was thick with dust and the smell of mildew. Every breath tasted stale. I leaned against the cold, rough wall, my eyes drawn upward to the patches of sky visible through the grimy panels.

I studied the skylights, trying to gather any clues about our location. The glass was fogged with condensation, hinting at the humidity that clung to everything in the room. Florida, maybe? It was hard to be sure. The passage of time had become a blur, the days blending in a haze of fear and uncertainty. Grey was the color of concrete, whispers, and sorrow.

I had tried asking the other women, hoping they might know how long we had been here, but they were just as bewildered. Some thought it had been a few days, others a week. Beth thought she was taken two days ago. She'd also been brought to the clinic by a different man.

My thoughts kept drifting to Olive. She must be terrified, not knowing where I was or what had happened to me. The thought of her fueled my determination to find a way out.

When I was just sixteen, I got pregnant. It was a classic tale: the high school cheerleader and the varsity football player, eager to score in every way possible. I had been naive, and we had been reckless. The moment he learned about the pregnancy, he refused to take responsibility. My mom was horrified but not entirely unsupportive. She suggested I put the baby up for adoption, worried that my chances for cheerleading scholarships would vanish with a child in tow. But I chose to keep Olive, a decision I have never regretted. My mother hadn't been wrong; my opportunity to go to college had disappeared.

It hasn't been an easy road. Motherhood was the most difficult path I could have chosen, and some days, the challenges felt insurmountable. But I loved my little girl with a fierceness that made every sacrifice worthwhile. The thought of Olive, now, not knowing whether I had abandoned her, tore me apart. She and I were inseparable, two peas in a pod. What must she be thinking? Who was taking care of her? Was she going to school? The questions gnawed at me, a relentless ache in my heart.

The door creaked open as a group of men came in. We cringed back en masse as they laughed, edging forward against the chain-link fence. Suddenly, I was glad that I was against the far wall. Ducking my head, I let my hair fall forward, trying to make myself as small as possible. It was a catch-22 proposition. I needed to get out of this warehouse to find a way to escape, but this group of men looked like they were the pervy uncles. I didn't want to go with any man here, especially anyone from this particular group.

"These are the newest arrivals. Guards, bring some out. Let's go," the man said. I'd not seen him before. He was dressed in a suit, but there were clear sweat stains, and his hair was slicked back wetly against his head.

The guards entered the area and gestured, "You, you …." They pointed at their selections, in cluding Beth, who resignedly looked at me sadly. The women shuffled forward as they moved closer to the group.

"This one has nice tits," one man was saying, yanking on a woman's arm. She'd been crying through the night; the person who'd taken her had raped her before the exam. "She looks like she'll be a dull fuck though. Look at those eyes. You'll be better off selling her to a brothel, Anton." The man sounded bored.

"Well, at least she has nice tits," the other man said. The woman whimpered, and I tried not to hyperventilate. I noticed the woman who had spoken earlier had turned away from the scene. Did that make us bad people? That we turned away?

I listened as the group haggled and the women cried, but eventually, a price was settled, and several women were sold, including Beth. She didn't bother to look back, but I made myself repeat her name. I wouldn't forget her. Hugging my knees tighter, I tried to stop the shaking that seemed to have overtaken my body: shock or fear—I wasn't sure which. Yesterday, I thought it was that I was taken and assaulted. All I thought about was that I wished I could brush my teeth.

If I wanted a chance to escape, I'd have to try to get out of here, which meant going with one of the men who came to buy someone. The thought was revolting, but it was the only way home to get home to Olive. My body shook harder.

The sky shifted as the hours passed before the door rattled open, and a chance arrived.