The HUSH Series: (HUSH, HUSHED and JANE.)

by Sandra Raine

  I crossed to the dresser, zipped open my duffle bag, and shoved both the pistol and some dirty clothes inside. I zipped up the bag and headed into the bathroom for one last look around, hoping I didn't leave anything behind - everything looked good. I headed back into the room and glanced at myself in the dresser's mirror. A few strands of hair had escaped the fold beneath my baseball cap. I stole a glance at my watch: time was ticking, I had to go but my hair. . .Ugh! I groaned taking the cap off and fixing it all over again. I then stole one last glance at the time, picked up the duffle bag from off the dresser and headed toward the door. But the door, much to my dismay, abruptly slammed opened.

  I suddenly screamed out startled, dropping the duffle bag to the floor. Justin had stormed in with Josh with Justin backhanding me across the face, laying me out flat on the bed. Seconds later, my father, along with Mr. Ray, casually walked into the motel room leaving Dominic to keep guard outside the door.

  "For a minute there, Diamond, I thought I'd never find you," my father wasted no time to muse. "Sit up." he then ordered me. I sniffled back my tears along with my constant fear of him and sat up slowly. I then glanced up unnervingly just in time to see his hand rise up before me then striking down upon me; the hard slap grazed my cheek forcing me to fall back down over the bed.

  "Sit up, Diamond!" My father ordered again.

  "Please. . .dad. . .I'm sorry." I staggered in tears.

  "Justin." my father said. Justin grabbed my arm and yanked me back up to a sitting position. "I heard you ran off with Abel's pistol and Henry's cash." my father mused again. "What were you planning on doing, Diamond?. . .Shooting me first then running away with the money afterwards?"

  "It sure looks that way," Josh interceded handing my father my duffle bag. My father then grunted as he pulled out the pistol from my bag, surveying the integrity of it while the cash obviously held no interest to him 'cause he just tossed the bag back to Josh.

  "Whoa," my father mustered toward the pistol. He was slightly taken back especially when he said, "after all that I've done for you, Sweetheart. Now if that isn't just disappointing."

  "You deserve to die!" I spat. "Especially for what you've done to Bree!" I accused matter-of-factly which obviously threw my father for a spin 'cause he just stood there staring down at me; his expression slightly perplexed over my verbal assault of him.

  "And you think I enjoyed harming Bree, Jane?"

  "Why'd you do it? Why'd you send her to them monsters?"

  "Punishment?"

  "'Punishment'?. . .For what?"

  "For betraying me-"

  "Betraying you!?"

  "You turned her against me. . .me and your mother."

  "Jesus Christ, dad. . .Do you hear yourself?"

  "Don't make me out to be the bad guy here, Jane."

  "Oh, of course not!" I scoffed. "I mean, God forbid you should turn your soon-to-be eleven-year-old daughter into a whore 'cause we both know exactly what she meant to you which was nothing!"

  "What'd you say?" my father demanded abruptly, cocking his head. I held my tongue and shifted a petrified look between Mr. Ray and Justin before settling that same look back onto my father. "You been talking to someone?" my father then pried, both his voice and his demeanor full of suspicion.

  "N. . .no. . ." I stammered, trying desperately hard to sound naive but unfortunately my father wasn't buying it, not by the glimmer of doubt shimmering in his eyes.

  "Who in the hell have you been talking?!" my father erupted, grabbing my face hard. "Tell me!" he then shouted while the intense heat off his raging breath scorched my face forcing me to whimper. "Who in the FUCK - "

  "Nobody!" I cried out, slapping my father's hand away from my face. "Nobody." my voice then shattered beneath a broken whisper. "Nobody." I repeated as I bowed my head and sobbed.

  "No," my father objected beneath a sigh of frustration, but most importantly, doubt. "I don't believe you, Jane. You talked to somebody. I can feel it."

  "Please, dad. . .I don't know what you're talking about?" I pleaded in a bout of desperation.

  "We have forty-eight hours, Andy," Mr. Ray intervened reassuringly. "It'll be over soon. You'll have your justice then. . .just like we planned. The good thing is that we didn't have to go very far. She led you right to her."

  My father grabbed my face again, and again I whimpered. "What have you done with Bree?"

  "I. . .don't. . .know. She. . .she ran off - "

  "You gave her to that Mexican bitch, didn't you?" my father charged. Again I held my tongue and kept to my silence as well as to my last reply 'cause there was no fucking way I was about to give him the satisfaction of getting his hands on both Anna and Bree. I'd die first before even considering.

  Sensing my refusal to comply, my father abruptly let go of my face and instead yanked the back of my hair hard giving me a bug's eye view of the meek intending to inherit what he so called "his world".

  "Make no mistake, Jane, Bree will turn up someday. And when she does, there won't be enough of your fucking tears to cover her body by the time I get through with her!"

  I sucked back my tears and spat in my father's face. The mucus clung to his skin. "Rot in hell you sick son-of-a-bitch!"

  As sure as I was of my father beating me to death or beating me to the point of death 'cause of my brazenness, he instead shocked me by letting go of my hair and storming out of the motel room with Mr. Ray and Josh following closely behind. I had to admit that my father's action actually threw me for a spin. But even I knew nothing good was about to come out of that. Something unforeseen was about to come my way, now it was just a matter of when.

  I gulped back my fears and prepared myself for the worse. And the worst was that I no longer had access to the pistol and I was trapped within Justin's choking presence smirking down at me.

  "What the fuck you smiling at?"

  "Come the day after tomorrow, Jane, you'll no longer exist with your father."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Your ass is going up on the auction chopping block."

  "Wh. . .what?"

  "Now, now, Jane, don't look so stunned." Justin laughed.

  "You mean men are coming here to bid. . .on me?" I could literally feel the color from my face draining from me. And what was left of my soul began to meticulously drown within that flesh pool I once called my life.

  "The old Rockhound Tannery in Boston is more like it. I think a motel is to. . .formal. Wouldn't you agree?" Justin mused.

  "The day after tomorrow is February 12th?" I indirectly stated leaving Justin to laugh.

  "Wow, Jane! You can still count the days in a month, I'm impressed! Anyway, I am going to miss you. Think you can suck my dick one last time before you go?"

  "What?. . .Fuck you!"

  Justin's faced lit up with rage. And to nurse his wounded ego, he backhanded me back down onto the bed. I then screamed as he leaned over the bed and yanked me up by my hair. A whimper escaped me as soon as I felt Justin's gun depressing against my left temple.

  "I'm not asking you, bitch, I'm telling you!"

  "O. . .okay," I stammered reaching for the button on his jeans.

  "Enough, Cuz," Dominic said suddenly. I quickly dropped my hands back down to my sides and scooted away from Justin.

  "What!?" Justin pried in aggravation.

  "Andy wants a word with you. . .outside. C'mon." Dominic said snapping his fingers.

  Justin shoved his gun down the front of his jeans and stormed out of the motel room with Dominic closing the door behind them.

  As soon as the door closed I made a move toward the telephone. Beneath trembling fingers I dialed #9 out then dialed my "911" call to a series of numbers. The line rang once, then beeped. Taking a deep, unsettling breath I then whispered: "Rockhound Tannery. Boston, Mass. February 12th. A.M. Please. . .Please help me." Beneath those same trembling fingers, I quickly hung up the receiver and sat back where Dominic left me, and waited.

  February 2012

 
; 10:15 a.m.

  Boston, Massachusetts -

  The Boston chill nipped at my skin the minute I stepped off the stock model white Suburban parked inside the Rockhound Tannery. The Tannery was a huge building farce on habitation. From the outside it looked completely abandoned which took me somewhat by surprise. But the real surprise actually lingered inside with many other vehicles already parked - mostly Suburbans and vans, and there were various men deriving from different cultures dressed in expensive tailored suits towering over their possessions in the form of girls. And there were lots of girls, with most, if not, many ranging between the ages of five to seventeen; there was absolutely no women within this sea of girls which was utterly haunting and unnerving for me to even stand here and witness. To even think that all these girls once belonged to a mother, a father, a family, possibly a happy home. And while I longed to believe that their existence here was based more along the lines of lies and deception and betrayal it made me question if any of those girls were in direct relation to any of those men hovering so closely?

  As the men began to converse about the auction, my eyes began to wander upon the many faces of the girls stranded there beneath the perils of their captors, their abusers; the men, who in one form or another, had betrayed their innocence to a life of prostitution, or worse, their unsuspecting families. My heart, no matter how vast within me, couldn't even begin to sympathize individually for each and every girl 'cause there were so many of them - maybe as many as thirty to around fifty - and they were all dainty, beautiful girls. Once full of light and life were now dull and lifeless as the overcast bearing down on this insignificant building with each fate intended to the highest bidder. I couldn't help but to shiver in my own skin knowing that within less than a day all these girls were going to become a victim of some man's perversities, tearing into their virgin flesh, and breaking down the little spirit they had left. I couldn't bare to think it anymore as I, too, just stood there beneath my own captors, beneath my own abusers that is until the sound of distant thunder crashed into the building setting my soul free at last.

  part three

  Chapter 9

  February 2012

  10:24 a.m.

  Boston, Massachusetts -

  It was chaos.

  Total fucking chaos! Nothing like you've seen on TV and movies. Nothing was rehearsed or choreographed. It was like looking at an army of red ants swarming out of an ant hole as if it had been set on fire; ants scattering mindless in all directions, like stammering blindlessly around in darkness searching in vain for a light to point them to salvation: This was the scene unfolding right before my baffled eyes as local police, S.W.A.T. and Feds raided the old Rockhound Tannery building, ramming in doors and busting through black painted windows. The simultaneous noise of doors slamming open, glass shattering, men shouting, feet scrambling beneath weapons locked and drawn was something far beyond than that of a domestic war between good guys and bad guys.

  As the war unfolded all around me, my heart had unexpectedly stopped beating, and my senses derailed as if my entire being were slowly succumbing to a paralysis with my body numbing, my ears deafening; it felt like I was dying.

  But I knew I wasn't dying 'cause my eyes were still projecting the chaos all around me, and I was still breathing. . .erratic, but alive. Then suddenly, and without regard to the other frightened girls or our suppressors being apprehended one by one, my eyes immediately settled on Dominic, who to my utmost surprise, had made no attempt to run as the others had done the minute the doors were rammed open and the raid commenced. No. Dominic just stood there amidst the chaos looking every bit as confused while trying to ingest this unforeseen event happening before him. His mind, it seemed, had not registered to the obvious fact that he had finally been caught. . .that everyone who had suppressed me and those before me had finally been caught.

  "Don't you move, motherfucker! Don't you dare move!"

  And those words, as chilling as they were to no one other than Dominic's ears, coerced him to flinch as he slowly surrendered his hands mid-air but not before stealing one last, and anxious look at me. Then something within his perplexed gaze stirred and actually troubled me. And it wasn't anger, rage, or hate. . .but sorrow. . .and pity. . .but most importantly, absolute regret.

  Right then and there Dominic knew he had been betrayed. As for me, I had been finally freed from him and from my father. . .or so I thought.

  August 19th, 2011

  2:27 p.m.

  Flagstaff, Arizona -

  I listened to the sound of my own heart drumming fast within the bowels of my eardrums as I stood there shackled in handcuffs before the men as I still had no idea what their intentions were with me. Eventually the unbearable silence broke with Copeland.

  "I need a smoke, Mr. K," he then said to the man who I had dubbed as "he", the head man in charge of my fate, of my destiny in this motel room. Mr. K nodded, and Copeland stepped outside.

  For the next few minutes my eyes couldn't help but to play touch and go with the other two men keeping their respective distance from Mr. K as one loomed near the door, and the other caddy corner to Mr. K's left shoulder. It was obvious that these two men were muscle, and the seriousness in their darkened expressions projected another breed of possible sex predators or traffickers. I knew these men wanted something from me or else they would have done something to me right about now. I mean, I knew it couldn't be sex 'cause they would have fucked me already. No. These men were after something else particularly this Mr. K, and my gut instinct told me it was grave, that my life would depend on it. But I couldn't put a finger nor a thought to it as my thoughts were to occupied on Bree and her safety.

  "Um. . .so what kind of sex are you in to?" I nervously asked, breaking the ice that seemed to have settled between me and this so-called "Mr. K". His gaze, not only mesmerizing, intriguing, was also extremely intimidating; not the usual man or "John" I was so used to dealing with. The majority of them were anxious, agitated, ruthless.

  "I would appreciate if you wouldn't use that word, Jane." he scolded which totally took me back some.

  "Do I know you?"

  "Yes, and no. But I will admit to saying that I've been searching for you for the past four years now. You're so-called "father" is a hard man to track down-"

  "You know my father?"

  "Most of the men in my profession know of your father, Jane. He's made quite a name for himself these past several years. But however the status, he still owes me a great deal."

  "I don't think I understand? Um. . .You've lost me?"

  "You don't know who I am, do you. . .Diamond?" Mr. K then teased.

  "No. And who told you I was 'Diamond'?" I pressed in frustration.

  "You were a Diamond in my eye. . .a precious jewel when I first found you."

  "Ex. . .excuse me?"

  "All I wanted for you was to be taken care of but that didn't turn out as quite as so, did it now?"

  "Look, Mister, I don't know who you are or what the hell you're talking about. But if you don't take these fucking cuffs off of me you will have hell to pay with my father!"

  "I wouldn't make such idle threats, Jane." Mr. K stated the least bit threatened.

  Mr. K left my gaze and motioned toward the man looming distantly behind his shoulder and mumbled something foreign to him. The man nodded, stepped around me and removed the cuffs from around my wrists. The man then returned to his position and continued to stand guard.

  "Sit down, Jane."

  "Not on this bed, I won't."

  Mr. K again leaves my gaze, and again motions the same man back over, and again he mumbled something to him in that same foreign tongue. The man then wasted no time taking a chair from a nearby table and settling it down beside me. He then reached for my arm and tugged me down onto the chair. I glared up at the man, my eyes fuming 'cause I didn't like the way he handled my arm. The gesture reminded me of my father's grasp, of Dominic's grasp and Justin's grasp - firm and dominate.

&nb
sp; "That hurt!" I snapped at the man.

  "His name is Jonah." Mr. K introduced.

  "I don't give a damn what his name is, he hurt my arm!" I bitched, nursing the slight tinge shooting up and down my arm.

  "I am sorry, Miss." Jonah apologized suddenly. I looked back up, ingesting Jonah's apology which was far beyond a tone that was much to eerily soothing, and unnervingly calming; a tone that took me by complete surprise particularly for a man who looked young for his line of profession. I mean, I figured a man like that would have simply backhanded me and told me to 'shut the fuck up!' kind of like the men in my professional life would have done. But not Jonah. He was different. He had manners. Eventually I nodded his acceptance, and Jonah returned back to his position and I returned my attention back onto Mr. K.

  "Well if its not sex that you or your men want, then what then?"

  "I want your father. And the money he stole from me."

  "Again, Mr. K, I don't know what you're talking about? I mean, what about my father? And what money?"

  Mr. K smirked back the obvious humor he found in my disposition and retrieved the other chair matching mine and sat down a few feet from me and smiled.

  "Fifteen years ago a band of girls fell into my shipment of human cargo heading toward the US off the Canadian coast. These girls, sort-of-speak, had been blended into my shipment prior to departure unbeknownst to me or any of my men. When an inventory count had been conducted off the California coast, I had come to discover that I had nine extra girls unaccounted for, and unfortunately you, Jane, were one of the girls which was rather disappointing considering that we speculated you to be no more than a year of age - the youngest of all the girls.