Chapter 30

THIRTY

Demi – Two years ago

"Just close your eyes and count to three, then you'll fall asleep," she whispered in my ear.

"I can't. I'm so scared, Layla," I cried into my palms, terrified they'd hear us. Slivers of light seeped through the cracks of the closet we were forced to stay in for twenty-two hours a day.

I had learned to ignore the scent of urine, the pile of feces in the corner, and the sweat-covered clothes. I had learned to ignore the screaming women and the men roaring with laughter.

Sleep was something I didn't know how to do without Layla—my sister essentially comforting me as if I were a petrified toddler.

"Go to sleep, go to sleep, my sweet Demilion," she cooed. I couldn't help but smile as she brushed her fingers through my knotted hair and massaged my scalp.

We'd been here for years now, but time didn't mean anything. There were no birthdays, there were no holidays to help mark the passing of another year. We lived in the shadows. We were already dead. Our parents sold us to traffickers that couldn't believe their luck acquiring two young, beautiful girls. ‘Exotic' was what they called us.

One of the men, Trent, who ran one of the largest trafficking rings in Nashville, raped my sister multiple times a day. He'd tie her up and then have me watch as he'd brutally beat and rape her. He called her ‘his wife.' She'd look me in the eyes sometimes and tears would stream down her reddened and bruised cheeks as she'd whisper with a small, forced smile, "It's okay, Demilion."

Demilion, the nickname she gave me. She said it's because I was her greatest wish come true—a built-in best friend, a sister. She told me she made wishes on dandelions every single day, hoping for a baby sister, and then, just like that, I eventually came along.

Our parents were the perfect example of humans who should never have reproduced. They were poverty-stricken and told us we were going to chase the American dream. Layla and I were so excited to fly for the first time when my parents put us on the airplane. We couldn't believe our lucky stars. Once there, they pretended we were meeting with a babysitter, an older woman wearing pearls, waiting for us at a park bench. Smiling, she pulled out two mints and handed it to us. She told us she was going to take us somewhere fun and new; she told us that we were going to love our new lives. My parents didn't even think twice. They took the cash from her, watched the strange men come for us and left immediately. "Ma!" I called out after them, but they didn't even look over their shoulder.

Layla was my everything. She was only three years older, but she was a mother, a father, a sister, a protector. She was everything. Our captors had a television running and old movies played on it. We'd watch through the crack. I remember watching Titanic and thinking Rose was brilliant for not risking her life for Jack. I admired her for not making room for him and letting him die.

One day, Layla found a way out for me. She said she'd distract Trent by being defiant, and when he grew angry and abusive, I needed to run. She said that the rest of the men were going to be making a transaction—that's what they called it when they sold another girl or had her go out and perform sexual acts for money.

"I don't want to leave you," I whimpered.

"You have to, Demilion. Run and never look back. Charlotte is six hours away… I've heard it's a safe place. They've got resources for girls like us. Go there." She nodded with so much hope in her eyes, I swore it hurt even more. "I'll meet you there. The Queen City, for two queens, right?" She smiled and brushed the hair from my face.

I had never felt more terrified in my life. I didn't want to leave Layla here in this hell. No one had ever touched me; they said I was protected and was to never ever be touched. But Layla wasn't so lucky. I had no idea why they spared me. Sometimes when darkness overtook my mind, I wondered, was it because I wasn't as beautiful as her? Was it because I was younger?

Hours had passed, and Layla had me wrapped in her arms while we sat there in the closet. We could hear the music from neighboring apartments blasting. Guitars strumming, piano keys echoing, musicians practicing their art form. I hated it so much. I loathed how the music always felt like a backdrop to the horrors that were happening right inside this small apartment, and no one heard since the music obstructed it all out.

"Wife!" Trent's loud voice boomed through the wood panels of the closet that had become a safe haven to my sister and me. My eyes filled with tears as I clutched Layla's arm tighter around me.

"Don't let me go," I whispered hurriedly.

"I'll never let you go, Demilion, from here." She rolled her lips and tapped her heart, and I knew she was holding back her tears. "I'll see you in the Queen City." She nodded as the door slammed open, and Trent's hairy arm reached down and yanked her from me.

"I love you, Layla!" I screamed out. For some reason, it was as if I knew that would be the last time I'd get to say it.

"I love you, Demilion," she said as she was dragged away. Her eyes crinkled and a single tear rolled down her beautiful face.

Drawing my knees to my chest, I sobbed. I didn't know how long to wait before I should sneak out. We'd never run away before, because we knew better. It was made very clear that if we ran and were caught, they'd slaughter us like pigs on a farm. They swore they'd gut us and make each other watch as we died simultaneously.

What felt like an eternity later, I heard screaming. Layla. This was my cue. I lunged up, pushed the door open, and raced out of the room. Sprinting down the hall, my feet jerked on the worn carpet as I gasped.

Trent was gone, the door was wide open, but my sister… my beautiful sister was laying on the dirty, stained carpet, surrounded by an ever-growing puddle of her own blood. Her face was almost unrecognizable.

Dropping to my knees, I began to cry so hard, my body felt like it'd break any moment. But just as I began to sing a soft lullaby—the one she always sang to me—Layla's eyes shot open. I stumbled back into my hands as the whites of her eyes were tinged with blood.

As she moved her face slightly, I cried out seeing her bottom teeth punctured through her lip.

"Layla!" I slapped my hands over my mouth.

"Demi… lion," she rasped with blood dripping down her chin.

I reached in, clenching my eyes shut and tried to help pull her lip from her teeth, but she shook her head.

"So much pain," she breathed out as her eyes rolled backward. She lifted her finger slowly, and I followed to what she was pointing at.

A bloodied knife sitting in the carpet right by us.

"Can't do this anymore… please." She closed her eyes as I processed what she was asking from me. "Knife." I could barely understand her with her mouth completely smashed.

"No… no, Layla. Let's go. We're going to get you out of here." I looked around for a phone. I stood and ran around the compact apartment like there would actually be a phone just waiting for me.

But then I saw a badge. Tilting my head, I walked to it and lifted it up. Trent was a police officer… "Oh my God," I wailed.

We're trapped.

"Demilion." I flung around and picked up the knife, then brought it back to my sister.

"What do you want with this, Layla?" I sank back down and put her head in my lap, massaging her scalp with my fingers, knowing she was in agonizing pain.

"Kill me."

"No, no… no." I sobbed as my eyes grew blurry, and I looked at my sister's weakened body. "Just come on, stand up." I tried to pull her thin frame against mine, but she made a noise that sounded like an animal trapped in a hunter's net.

I saw her leg and realized it was completely twisted in the opposite direction.

"Layla." I dropped us both back to the floor, completely defeated and drained. My sister's body was shattered, physically and emotionally. She was dying. They'd never call for help; they'd let her endure every ounce of pain.

"This is the only chance you'll have. Please… Demi, run. But don't let me…" She paused as tears rolled down her face, then she opened her eyes slowly and looked at me. "I'm… already dead." She looked at my hand, trembling against the knife. "You have to live for us both."

"I love you so much. Forever." She began to cough, but her bottom lip was still caught in her teeth, and it tugged so hard, she choked on her own blood.

I couldn't stop crying as I lifted the knife. "I love you so much, Layla. Always." I slammed my eyes shut as the knife slid into my sister's body.

I plunged the blade over and over again, until I heard the crackling of her cries stop. Until I knew she was no longer suffering like roadkill.

And in that moment, I died, too.