“Of course,” says Roger. “I’ll go get your phone.”
Cory comes over and puts his arm around me, as Roger leaves. His arm feels warm and comforting. He didn’t know. How could he? He pulls out a chair for me and I sit. I’m very sore.
“Heather?” Cory says again. “What happened?”
I feel a flash of anger. Is he serious? How stupid is he? “Why didn’t you come looking for me last night?” I ask.
“Tell me what happened,” he says.
“Here,” Roger hands me my phone. I turn it on. There’s no signal. No internet.
“The Internet must be down,” says Roger. “We don’t usually get a signal in here. Cory, go downstairs and check the connection.”
My panic returns. I suddenly don’t want Cory to leave me. I want him to protect me from… Or did he bring me to this? Who can I trust?
The girl on the couch moans and turns over.
Cory is only gone for a few minutes. There’s still no signal or internet connection. He takes my phone, and he and his dad look at it.
“Do you have a land line?” I say.
“No.” Roger shakes his head. He looks at his own phone and swears. “No signal.”
I’m so tired. It must be the left-over effects of the drug. DHG? Is that what they called it? I remember hearing that name someplace before. I try to think where, but my head really hurts, and things are still foggy.
“Let’s get her to the hospital,” Roger says.
“We need to call the police,” I hear myself say.
“I will,” Roger says. “But you need medical attention first. This drug can affect your heart. It can be fatal.”
“Come on,” Cory says. “We’d better get you checked out.” He comes over and helps me stand. I feel a bit shaky. He puts his arm around me to support me. But he doesn’t seem worried enough. If this were Aaron or Dennis, they’d be acting like first responders right now. And Brit? If Brit was here—
“Dad, will you get her coat?”
Roger leaves the room and returns with my coat. He helps me into it.
“My things…” I start to say, but Cory interrupts me.
“We’ll come back for them. You don’t look too good. Let’s get you checked out.”
I stop at the front door long enough to put my shoes on, and then Cory walks me out to his car. As he pulls out of the driveway, I feel so sleepy. I think I’ll close my eyes for a few minutes.
When I wake up, Cory’s car is speeding down the highway. My head feels groggy. I need to call Brit. Or my mom. Or somebody. I reach into my coat pocket, but my phone isn’t there. Where’s my phone? I look around for my purse but then remember I left it in the bedroom. The hospital will want my insurance information. I don’t have my wallet.
“I need my phone,” I say.
“Who are you going to call?” Cory asks.
I think about that for a moment. Who was I going to call? Maybe my guidance counselor? Mrs. Neilson? What was I going to tell her? Oh yeah. That I’m not getting into Harvard.
I try to talk, but my tongue won’t work. I don’t think that was aspirin that Roger gave me. I feel a tightening in my chest, panic returning, but I can’t muster up the energy to really panic. It’s almost as if I am looking at myself through a lens. I can see myself sitting here, but I can’t feel anything. I lean my head back against the headrest.
And I sleep.
Until I feel hands on me, dragging me out of the car. I moan. I want to keep sleeping.
The bitter wind bites through my jeans and wakes me up a little bit. But then I’m suddenly sitting in a chair in a living room. This isn’t the hospital. Am I back at Cory’s?
No.
I sit there for a few minutes, letting my head clear. The room is small, and the carpeting is dark green and dingy. There are scuff marks on the walls, and the faded armchair I’m sitting in is ripping out at the seams. I pick at a loose thread on the arm.
Then I hear voices. Cory is standing next to the front door talking with another man. He has short dark hair and stubble on his face. The man is older than Cory, maybe about thirty. He’s thanking Cory.
“No problem, Tommy,” Cory says. The man called Tommy hands Cory a wad of cash, and I watch as Cory counts it.
Cory looks like he’s about to leave. I’m suddenly very scared. I don’t want to stay here alone! I try to stand, but my legs are weak, and I have to sit back down. “Cory!” I say. He’ll help me. He promised he would help me. That’s why we came on this trip. So he could help me.
“Cory!” I say again. My voice is getting stronger. I’m waking up. He is supposed to take me to the hospital. His dad is supposed to call the police. This time I manage to stand.
Cory walks over to me and looks me in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You seem like a nice girl.” He hands me the baggie of white pills. “Here. These will help you relax.”
He starts to walk away, and I grab his arm. “Cory! What’s happening? Where are we?”
I glance at the man called Tommy. He’s of average size, maybe just under six feet. He’s not as tall as Aaron. He’s Caucasian, with brown eyes, and a tattoo of a naked woman on his left bicep. There’s a snake entwined around her. His brown eyes meet mine and I don’t like what I see.
“Cory!” I say. “Take me with you! I’m scared!” Part of me realizes Cory is the reason I’m in this place. But I know him. He’ll have to help me. He’s all I have at the moment.
He pulls my arm off of him.
“Goodbye, Heather,” he says.
I scramble towards him on my wobbly legs, reaching out for him, trying to grab his arm again, frustrated that my body won’t respond. But he’s out the door before I get there. And then he’s gone.
Tommy closes the door and locks it. Then his eyes travel up and down me, as if he’s measuring me.
A slow grin spreads across his face.
“Follow me,” he says.
But I make a grab for the door handle. Quickly, his hand is on my wrist pulling me away. Then another man steps out of the hallway and plants himself between me and the front door.
“That’s a no-no,” Tommy says, wagging his finger at my face. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the others.”
He leads me through a kitchen and into another room that has a television in it. It’s not a fancy flat-screen. It’s an old tube TV like my grandma used to own. There are some girls watching a show about tigers. I see a large tiger, a Bengal maybe, chasing down an antelope. I watch in horror as the big cat jumps on it and takes it to the ground. As the antelope struggles, the cat tears into its hindquarters with its jaws and rips off a piece. None of the girls seem startled by the violence.
There are three girls. They look about my age. Maybe younger. Maybe older. It’s hard to tell. Two are smoking something that doesn’t look like a regular cigarette. One is passed out asleep on the couch.
“This is Serena and Chloe,” says Tommy, pointing to the two smoking girls. “And this here is Reg.” Reg is the one who is passed out.
I don’t understand what’s going on. Why am I here? This looks like a hangout for drug addicts.
“I don’t get it,” I hear myself say.
“You work for me now,” Tommy says. “This is your new home.”
“My what?”
“You do as I say, and I will take care of you. If you don’t do as I say…” he looks at the other girls. None of them meet his eyes. “Well, you’d just best play it safe and listen.”
He glances at his watch. “It’s time to go to work.”
He grabs my wrist and yanks me towards the front door. I brace myself to run as soon as he opens it. But he has too tight of a hold on me.
As soon as we’re outside, I scream. Tommy doesn’t seem to care. I kick at his shins, his balls, any target I can find, but the white pills Roger gave me make me clumsy. Tommy sidesteps my efforts. I try to break loose, but he has a good grip. I kick out at him again, but my legs are still very weak, and t
hey buckle. He pushes me in the backseat of the car and shuts the door.
I grab the handle, but it’s locked from the outside somehow. Maybe child safety locks? Then another man slides in next to me from the other side. It’s the thug I saw in the house.
“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” he asks.
I’m trapped. I look around.
We’re in an old, rundown part of a town that I don’t recognize. Windows are boarded up in many of the houses. Across the street, a few of the homes are burned down, leaving charred remains between barely-functioning homes.
Tommy gets in and starts driving. In just a few minutes, we arrive at a hotel. It’s old and run down like the houses and has a neon sign that reads “vacancy.” We don’t go to the front desk. Instead, he pulls around back. All of the doors face the parking lot. The paint is peeling off of most of them.
The man next to me opens his car door and pulls me out. Tommy grabs my wrist and drags me to one of the hotel room doors and opens it. He pushes me inside and follows me in.
“You stay here,” he says. “I’ll be standing outside watching this door. If you try to leave, I will kill you.” He pulls his shirt aside to reveal a knife. “You got it?”
I swallow hard and nod. “Please,” I say. “I don’t understand.”
Tommy doesn’t answer. Instead, he says, “A friend of mine will visit you soon. You show him a good time, or I’ll kill you. Do you understand?”
I nod, but I don’t understand. Why am I here?
Tommy turns and leaves, shutting the hotel door behind him. Suddenly I’m alone.
I look around for a way out, but there are no windows. And Tommy is standing outside my door
I look for a phone, but there is none. How can a hotel not have a phone?
Suddenly, there’s a brief knock on the door. Then a man comes in and shuts it behind him. He locks it. He’s big. Wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.
“You’re mighty pretty,” he says.
I back up towards the bed. I’m suddenly remembering parts of last night. Professor Bram walking towards me. Pushing me down on the bed.
Hurting me.
I’m starting to understand what’s about to happen.
“I don’t want to do this,” I say, but my voice is barely a whimper.
The man doesn’t seem to care what I want. He comes closer and puts his hand on my shoulder and leans in for a kiss. “You smell nice,” he says. I think of Tommy standing outside with his knife.
The man pulls back a little and looks at me. He reaches his hand up and touches my cheek, runs his hand through my hair. “Shall we get started?”
I slap him across the face. It’s not hard— my muscles are too weak right now. But it surprises him. He growls and hits me across the face with the back of his hand. My head snaps to the side, and I feel the burn on my cheeks. Black spots swim in front of my vision, and for a moment I have to fight to remain conscious.
The man hits me again. This time across the other cheek.
“Stop!” I say, and I aim a good kick at his crotch. I miss and kick his knee instead. He howls again and pushes me so hard I tumble backwards across the floor and slam against the far wall.
“What’s all the commotion?” It’s Tommy’s voice. He has opened the door and is standing just inside it.
“Your girl here—” says the man.
Tommy nods and asks the man to step outside. Maybe he’s going to help me. Maybe Tommy will see how he has hit me.
Instead, Tommy crosses the floor quickly until he’s right up in my face He takes my chin in his left hand and squeezes. “You behave,” he says. “Because I can do a lot worse to you than my client here.” He lets go of my chin and grabs my shoulder, throwing me to the floor. I hit hard and my jeans tear in the knee, skinning my knee in the process.
Tommy crosses the floor and kicks me in the ribs. The air gushes out of me, and I bend over in pain. I’m sitting there, gasping for breath.
“Are you ready to behave?”
I nod. Because I don’t have any choice. Not now. I’ll have to wait until later to escape.
“Good,” Tommy says. “Now stand up.” He grabs my wrist and jerks me to my feet.
I stand, holding my stomach where he kicked me. He opens the door and lets the man back in. Then he leaves me alone with him.
Plaid-shirt guy grins again. “So you’re a fighter, huh? Makes it all the more exciting.”
— — —
When he leaves, I lay there, trembling. I’m also crying, I realize.
It doesn’t seem like the man has been gone long when another man comes in.
I sit up and scoot back on the bed, cowering. “No,” I say. But he doesn’t listen to me either. I put up a fight again, kicking and screaming, but this only seems to make him laugh. He pins my wrists down.
I’m beginning to realize where I am. I’m in Hell.
— — —
After he’s gone, Tommy comes in.
“You okay?” Tommy asks.
I’m not. I can’t even speak.
He tosses the plastic baggie of pills at me. “Take one of these. It will help you relax.” He looks on the dresser where there is some crumpled up money. He counts it, nods, and leaves.
The baggie of pills is sitting on the bed next to me. I remember my mom and the unmarked bottle of pills in her dresser. She takes them and feels better.
But I don’t want to feel like I felt last night. The room spinning.
Then I remember that Cory gave me something like these this morning that made me sleepy. Maybe that’s all these will do. Maybe I will just go to sleep, and when I wake up, I’ll be home.
Mom’s pills make her happy. The “I don’t care” pills are what she called them when we were in therapy. She takes them and doesn’t care. That’s how she survives without my dad.
Maybe that’s what these are. “I don’t care” pills.
I reach for the baggie and notice that my hand is shaking. I hear male voices outside the hotel door. Tommy and somebody else.
I open the baggie and take one out and look at it. It looks harmless enough.
The door handle starts to turn. I panic and pull the covers up around me. But whoever is on the outside pauses.
I wait, holding the pill between the thumb and index finger of my left hand. I’m watching the door, listening to the male voices outside. Someone laughs.
The handle of the door turns some more, and another man walks through. He grins.
I swallow the pill without water.
When Brittney turned thirteen, her dad took her out on a “date.” They went to a restaurant and sat at a little booth in the back. He told her how much he loved her. She said he seemed really nervous.
Then he told her that she was special and that any man she dated should treat her with respect.
She said that he gave her a little gold heart necklace and fastened it around her neck with trembling fingers. The heart symbolized her love, and her dad had a tiny key made. When she found the man she wanted to marry, she could give him the key to her “heart.”
The idea was that she remain a virgin until she got married. The Hudsons are conservative like that.
Brit and I laughed about it later, but she loved that necklace and still wears it every day. I never asked her what Aaron thought about it. But as far as I know, she’s still a virgin. And I would know if she wasn’t. Brit and I tell each other everything.
I remember the Monday after her birthday, when she came to school wearing that necklace. She brought in vanilla cupcakes with confetti frosting to share with our middle school home room. At lunch, she told me about the necklace and what it meant. I was a little bit jealous that I didn’t have a dad to care so much about me.
Now, as I lay here alone, thinking of how many men I’ve been with in a single day, I touch my neck where there is no necklace. If my dad were alive and had given me a heart-shaped necklace with a key, he’d be very disappointed in me now.
It
seems like I could have fought harder. Or done something to escape. Or maybe let them kill me instead.
I turn over and look at the clock. It’s 3 a.m. It turns out that those little white pills in the baggie are the “I don’t care” pills after all. Because the door handle is turning again, and I feel pretty numb about it all.
It’s Tommy. He comes over and gathers the wad of money on the dresser.
“Get dressed, and let’s go home,” he says.
He tosses my clothes to me and watches as I put them on. Then he opens the door and follows me out. Part of my mind thinks of screaming for help, but who would come? I don’t see anyone, and Tommy has his hand on my wrist. And maybe I shouldn’t have taken that last pill.
He puts me in the backseat of the car and closes the door. And he drives. The landmarks are a blur in the darkness, and I’m having trouble staying awake. Soon, we’re back at the house I left from earlier today, which seems like years ago.
He leads me into the kitchen and sits me down in one of the chairs. He pulls something out of the freezer and puts it in the microwave. In a minute or two, he sets it in front of me, along with a bottle of water. It’s a burrito.
I’m starved. It has been a very long time since I last ate. I feel like I should be crying and fighting and trying to run, but much to my dismay I inhale the burrito instead.
Tommy smiles. “Looks like you worked up an appetite,” he says.
I want to kill him.
When I finish the bottle of water, he takes my wrist and leads me to a back bedroom lit by a small desk lamp. There are two twin beds crammed into the small room. The passed-out girl I saw earlier, Reg, is sitting on one, reclined up against its headboard. She’s smoking something that’s smelling up the room. It makes me cough.
“This is where you sleep,” Tommy says. “There’s a bathroom down the hall on the right. There are men standing guard outside the house. Don’t try to leave.”
He retreats towards the bedroom door and then turns back. “Get some sleep, Heather. Tomorrow we will go over the rules.”
Ordinary Girl Page 7