Hostage
Cut broken enemies off, into your pit of non-valuable losses.
Could have stayed and dreamt for days,
But the sight must be far worse than the taste.
And I'm waiting for something to get through to you.
And I'm waiting to burn compassion into you.
Nostalgia.
For some, it brings back sweet memories, painted smoothly in the canvas of their minds. They smile faintly as they let their mind relax, and think about what they portray as the ‘good’ times. But for me, it’s gloomily different. I thought back on my life, as I sat on the scratchy, filthy floor, I couldn’t smile faintly, or let my mind relax. The memories were like a windfire, in the beginning stages of destroying everything I worked so hard for. I showed no emotion on my face, and I felt like the only sensation I could feel was dreadful sorrow. I was numb to any other mellow feelings. I tried not to feel sorry for myself, to cry and wish the most horrible death on my mother, but doing this didn’t change the fact that I was being thrown around the whole country until they found some one who might want to purchase me.
Purchase me as if I was an inanimate item, with no feelings, no family, no life. But in that moment, I might as well been. I was never going back to my home in Virginia, and probably for the rest of my life, I would be some one’s slave. I would no longer be my own person. I would be forced to do whatever they said, or my life was snatched from me. I subconsciously stopped breathing as one of the men walked by. When ever they spoke in English, I would gather up parts of their conversation to make a puzzle, and I figured out that they were drug lords, and they did this frequently. As I looked around at the other women, sadistic frowns on their faces, I knew this was true.
“Take her, please!” My mother begged, when the German drug lords gave her an option, ‘Die, or give her to us.” Three words from my mother changed my life for ever, and she made a decision she would never be able to take back. She made a decision I would never forgive her for. One vigorously grabbed me, as the other threw a bag of a white substance at my mother, and give her a look of disgust. I screamed out for my mother’s assistance. I begged her. I tried to strike a nerve in her lifeless heart, that expired years ago, along with my father. They laughed as I begged, blocking the sounds of my cries. She just stared, with tears strolling down her eyes as they took me away.
I wondered what she was doing at this very moment. Maybe sniffing up her beloved crack, then crying over it. She always knew how to make herself a victim. She always knew how to hurt me. Inside, I was crying desperately, trying to conjure up escape plans, but I knew I wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon, unless I was successfully sold. I would be a hostage for the rest of my life, and nothing else… “Stand straight.” His voice was raspy, deep, and penetrating. Whenever I was able to sleep, his voice was the craze that haunted my dreams. I obeyed him, standing straight as the men looked at us, seeing who was the best choice. I bit my bottom lip, trying hard to hold in my sobs.
I’d rather be any where else in the world in that moment. Anywhere.
I didn’t dare to look anywhere but ahead. I knew that with these type of men, it was very easy to trigger their anger. In my peripheral vision, I seen a man approaching me. I held my breath for moments, scared of what I would smell. It wasn’t like I smelled any better. His hard face, was wrinkled with age. I could tell that his wild blonde hair was starting to whiten with age. He was overweight, and overall very unattractive, but he seemed to take an interest in me. One of the German man who owned me, stood over me, with an evil grimace. “Seven, look at him.” he demanded calmly. My eyes involuntarily shot up at the man, and I was able to see more of his unappealing features.
SEVEN would be my name. They couldn’t even call me by my real name. I wouldn’t expect them to. “She’s pretty. Pretty skin.” the old men gently caressed my arm, making me vomit a little in my mouth, I swallowed it down with a grimace. “She’s a virgin, too.” he boasted with a sick smile, and I tried not to think of how they found out such private information. “How do you know?” the man looked surprised, appeased, and had a ailing kind of excitement on his face. I prayed to God that I wouldn’t have to leave with him. If God existed, he wouldn’t make me leave with this man. “We checked.” I swallowed hard, my teeth had a firm grip on my bottom lip.
“How? Is she still a virgin?” my owner looked tired of the questions. “Of course. She’s worth a lot more than the others.” I didn’t know how I was suppose to feel hearing that I was worth more money than the other hostages. “She listens good, too.” I had no other choice but to listen. “She’s the only one we haven’t had to beat.” he boasted, degrading me even more. I was the scariest one, the one who wasn’t trying to fight back, like I should have. “See, her face is clear.” he grabbed my face harder than I would have liked, showing off my bruise less face. “I’ll take her.” the old man decided with a smile. I whimpered once I realized he only had a few teeth in his mouth.
“She goes for 20,000.” the old man looked surprised, flabbergasted, then suddenly angry. “10000.” he cut the price in half, angering my owner. “I told you the price. She’s a special one. Take it or leave it. She’ll sell for more else where.” they spoke about me, right in front of my face as if I was a car. They would all get their karma. All of them.
“No, let, go of me!” I heard a puny voice of a tired woman, and immediately every one turned to the distraction. I seen an older woman, about thirty. She had light skin, brunette, and from her facial features, she looked Hispanic. Her drug use was written all over her face. All of the women were crack heads, I was sure. Maybe that’s why I was so “special”. I was the youngest, the most pure, and the cleanest. I wished they would have taken my mother, instead of me. I did nothing to deserve this. I paid for her drug addiction.
I watched in awe as she tried to fight the men off of her. She was brave, and for that I admired her. She screamed once they got a firm hold on her. “I’ve had enough with you!” One of our owners screamed in her face. “Kill me. You weak, bitch! God will punish all of you. Soon.” she had a sadistic smile on her face, that scared even me. “Kill her.” a strong voice demanded. I tried to rip my eyes from the scene, but I couldn’t. “Sweet dreams.” he put the gun to her head. “I’ll see you in hell.” she was still smiling, waiting for her death. With no further ado, his finger pressed on the trigger, causing my body to vibrate as the loud sound pierced through my ears.
It all happened to fast. Her brains blasted through the air, quickly falling, along with her lifeless body. “Let’s go.” they ordered, quickly piling us in the back of that truck again. I was the closest I was going to get to relieved. In the truck, I knew no one could buy me. “Thank you.” I thanked God up above for saving me from another auction.“Wait, what about my girl!” the old man already tried to stake his claim on me. “She’ll sell elsewhere.” he loaded me up in the truck, and I didn’t give that man a second glance.
I couldn’t remember the last time they’d even fed us. I had my arms to my side, with out the hand cuffs, gently holding my aching stomach. I wouldn’t dare try to complain, I knew the consequence would be much worse than a stomach ache. They’ve never hit me before, and I wanted to keep it that way. “Seven.” I instantly looked up, and seen a man frowning down at me. “Yes?” I responded politely, as he shoved a plate of food in my hand. It was a burger and fries, while the other women received food that reminded me of mold. I considered myself lucky, besides the terrible circumstance.
“Thank you.” I made sure I used all the manners I had, it was the only thing keeping me unharmed. The ‘purity’ they seen in me was the only thing keeping me unharmed, my nice attitude, my virginity, my young face, my much older resembled body, and my ‘clean’ skin as they called it.“Young bitch thinks she lucky…” I heard the woman beside me cackle evilly. I winced when I looked at her face, cracked with age, bruised with time. She was probably only thirty, but her drug use aged her to the point where she looked older than my mom. I decided not to say anything. That was always better for me.
“Rise.” A simple command, with such a powerful response from all the women, including myself. We weren’t even women anymore. At least it didn’t feel that way. We were useless items, used and sold for the benefit of men. I often wondered how a sick mind worked. How they could sell women, the same creature that birthed them, made it possible for them to breathe. To live. They should have been killed at birth.
I rose quickly, as I usually did. I was the first one standing, trying to emotionally prepare myself for an auction. It was never easy. With an action as simple as raising the price, your life could change. Your well being depended on simple words, whether they agreed that you were worth your price or not. The prices differed drastically. Some women were one thousand, while some were ten thousand. Obviously, it all depended on your well being. The shape you were in, beauty, and it definitely helped my price go up, when they discovered my innocence.
They didn’t bother to put us in chains. They didn’t struggle with installing fear in us. If we ran, we died. They made it simple. There was no place to run to, anyway. Not like we would know our way around, when we didn’t know where we were. We lost track of days, the time, everything. When things like this happen, you kind of focus on the more important things. Birthdays, time, days, none of it really matters when you’re uncertain if you’ll live to see another minute.
Like soldiers, we slowly, somberly marched out of the van that we lived in. We all looked at each other, sadly. Our eyes wishing another the best of luck. Almost in unison, we faced our potential owners, speculating them all. Their eyes mirrored the same interest, twisted in a sick way. It was obvious these men weren’t American. Maybe we weren’t even in America anymore. I noticed the way one of the potential owners looked at me, and the bidding began…
I didn’t dare move, although my feet were itching to run. He slowly walked up to me, and I felt my lunch threaten to spill over. I looked at the man, and allowed my eyes to trace over his physique. He was tall, with wild curly brown hair, and deep blue eyes that reminded me of the sea. He was the youngest person there, and probably the closest I could get to my age. He grabbed my face, as he stared down at my body. In that moment, a sick thought crossed my mind, and I knew that it was possible that I could have been as fucked up as every one else was.
His eyes trailed back up, eyeing my face. I allowed myself to break the stare I obtained with the ground, and let my eyes roll up to meet his. His blue eyes were full of malevolence, and I was certain that those blue eyes seen things that were possibly worse than what my eyes had endured. I wished that he would be the one to take me. Out of all the men, he was the youngest, best looking, and maybe the best spelling. It was sick, grotesque, but I didn’t reject the contemplation. What did that make me? An outcome of my surroundings?
“She’s the most excellent.” his voice was scratchy, rough, and unfriendly. He squeezed my face harder. I snapped my eyes shut in response. I heard a low chuckle rumble within his chest. “However, I’m not too eager to keep one with such dark skin.” I wasn’t good enough. I was the best there. Still not good enough. I didn’t say a word, although they threatened to spill over. “She’s the youngest, purest, and best in health. Surely, she is worth your price.” My owner persuasive broken English.
The man’s hard hands brushed over my eye lids. I gradually opened them, hoping that I was doing what he wanted me to do. “What’s your name.” I couldn’t put a finger on his accent. I breathed, hoping the smell of my breath wasn’t offending him too much. They allowed us to clean up a bit before auctions. “Lia.” I spoke quietly, hoping he would hear me. “Lia.” he repeated in delight, letting his rough hands trace over my arms. “How much is Lia?” he looked back at my owner, while I devoured his physical.
“Seven is twenty thousand, up front.” My owner sounded disgusted that he even asked my name. He hated women, that much was obvious. “Twenty?” the man repeated distastefully, I swallowed hard. It was either him, or a man in his late sixties with a beer belly. Why did I even care what my owner looked like? Did it matter? No. It shouldn’t have. Any man who would allow this to happen to a women was sick. I hung my head low in shame. “Twenty. She’ll sell else where.” My owner shot back rudely, and I knew his facial expressions were mirroring that of anger.
The man let his eyes roll down my body, as if he was trying to make a decision. I was shaking, even though I tried my hardest not to. He let go of me, and my body relax immediately. He spoke a different language to my owner, and I tried to pick up on the tone. They sounded like they were arguing, yet again. I looked around at the other women, who didn’t look as scared as I did. It was like they didn’t care about their well being. A loud sound caused me to jump, and I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut. I felt a firm, painful grip around my arm, pulling me towards an unknown direction.
I opened my eyes and seen my owner sprawled out on the floor, his red blood spilling, swiftly painting the black, dirty street. I tried to feel sad. I felt a bit of joy start through my toes. It quickly ended once the man put the same gun up to my head. “Move or you die.” I nodded, my feet generating a mind of their own. “Pig.” he spit on my owner as he pulled out a stack of money, throwing it distastefully over his lifeless body. He pointed the gun at my owner’s partner, and smiled wickedly. “I’ll kill you too. Take the money and leave.” I looked at my owner’s partner, and knew instantly that he was weak, when he nodded his little head like a good boy.
He didn’t even grab all of the money as he pointed the gun as the women, making them climb back into the van in a panic. I bit my lip, looking at the women who were panicking as well. As weak as the man was, I was certain that with the man in charge dead, things would go down. The women would probably be freed quickly, while I would be with the man with the deep blue eyes. I would be his slave, and he would be able to do whatever he wanted with me.
He pushed me into a van that painfully resembled the one I was captured in, but I wasn’t alone. There was two other women, rather teenagers. They were tied up, with dirt in their hair. Their eyes told me they had been auctioned off longer than I was. He quickly tied me up, and gave me a kiss on the lips. “Try any funny shit, and I won’t hesitate to kill you.” I nodded, looking down at my tan shirt that was three sizes too big. As he closed the van, darkness enveloped the small room, and I felt alone.
“He’s gonna kill us, you know.” her voice was high, timid, emotionless. “Shut up, Ashley.” this voice was different. Low in tone for a woman’s voice. I could practically hear her shaking. “Maybe… they’ll let three of us go.” I didn’t dare to speak. I hadn’t spoken for nearly a month. I’d forgotten how my own voice sounded. “He’s robbed men of their best women.” this voice was low. While she sounded young, I knew she’d been through more than all of us. She’d probably been there the longest, and knew more. “Us. He’s doing this for some one. A young boy. The boy will choose one of us. The rest will die.” Her voice was cold, and detached. She had time to get used to the idea.
No one said a word after that. We let her words sink into our minds, as our tears flowed. In that moment, I didn’t feel alone. While we were wrapped up, and couldn’t physically touch each other, our tears were one in the same. Our fear, connected us. Three of us would have shared the same fate. I looked back at my foolish thoughts from less than an hour ago. How badly I wanted the man with the deep blue eyes to purchase me. I could hear my mother’s sardonic snicker, feel her bony, uncomfortable fingers in my hair. Maybe god would take pity on me, and this would be the end. Or maybe he found this twisted ache humorous, and prolong my journey towards demise. It was all of our hands.