by Bella Jewel
I manage to gather my footing before I fall. I get a chance to peer around. This must be his room. It’s large with dark wooden walls, a toilet and shower off to the side, a large bed in the middle and a desk near a set of windows at the back. Hendrix shoves me again, so I continue to walk forward until I reach a small sofa. He grips my shoulder, forcing me down onto it. I don’t fight him. My mind is screaming at me to just go along with it. He might not kill me if I do as I’m told. I think about Eric, and my heart clenches. Is he okay? Are they hurting him right now? I can’t not ask. I can’t just forget about my friend.
“Are they hurting him?” I croak.
Hendrix is standing in front of me, and at my words he kneels. He grips my wrists and holds them tightly in his hands, making it impossible for me to move. Our eyes meet, brown on green, and I flinch. There’s so much behind those eyes, so much pain, so much anger, so much death…
“What is goin’ on with him ain’t your concern. What is your concern is surviving. You do as I ask, you live. You don’t, you die. It’s simple.”
Simple. Simple. Of course, it’s so freaking simple. I put my head down, swallowing over and over to stop the bile rising in my throat.
“How old are you, girl?”
“My name is Indigo,” I snap, lifting my head to meet his glare.
“Don’t fuckin’ care what your name is, it don’t matter to me. I asked how old you are.”
“What does it matter?” I whisper. “If you’re going to rape me, I don’t imagine you’ll care.”
He snorts. “No, I suppose I won’t. Answer me anyway.”
My body goes stiff.
“Now,” he growls.
“I’m twenty-four.”
He narrows his eyes, and nods his head. “You fucked many men?”
Oh. My. God.
“Fuck you,” I spit.
He lifts his hand, and he slaps me so hard I see stars. My body stiffens, and just like that I crumble. My moment of strength crawls back to my inner depths, and stays there.
“Answer my fuckin’ question, or I’ll chain you up in the cell with the rats.”
“No,” I croak.
“No you haven’t fucked a lot, or no you won’t answer my question?”
“No I haven’t fucked a lot.”
“Good.”
Good? I raise my head, meeting his gaze with a powerful glare.
“Who are you?” I rasp.
“Someone you don’t want to fuck with.”
“W…w…w…what do you want with me?” I say in a small voice.
He grins, and it’s not nice. His eyes are so full of threat. I shudder, but when he speaks, my entire world stops.
“I want to sell you.”
Oh.
God.
He wants to sell me. I can’t even breathe through that. My entire body is tingling, and my head spins. He wants to sell me? Like…a sex slave? Or on the black market? I lift my head, and my eyes burn as I stare into his black ones. “You want to sell me?” I gasp.
“I don’t want to sell you,” he growls, turning his gaze away from mine and standing. He walks over to his desk and picks up a cigarette, lighting it. “I am selling you.”
“Why?” I whisper.
“Because I owe someone, and you’re the perfect payment. He likes girls like you.”
Girls like me. Oh God. I don’t want to know what that means.
“P…p…please, just let me go. I’ll leave…”
He snorts. “No can do. I really do need to settle that debt. Don’t worry, he’s only mean when you piss him off.”
“I won’t let you do this,” I yell, my body shaking.
He storms over, grips my shoulder and hurls me up to my feet. I scream in pain as his fingers dig into my skin. “You have no choice. You will learn I am not the sort of man you want to play with. I will crush you. Now, turn around.”
“What?” I whisper.
He spins me around. “Don’t argue, just do.”
He begins patting my sides. He’s looking for weapons. He’s going to find my phone. My only chance of escape. When his fingers go over my pockets, he shoves his hand in and pulls out my cellphone. “You ain’t keepin’ this.”
He drops it on the ground and stomps on it until it shatters.
He shatters my hopes along with it.
“Please, just let me go.”
He spins and glares at me, before turning and walking over to the door. He opens it, sticks his head out and bellows, “Drake!”
A moment later, a tall, blond pirate with a jagged scar running from his temple to his mouth down the left side of his face, walks in. He doesn’t look at me; he simply stands at the door waiting for orders. He’s huge, with broad shoulders and muscle beyond that of a normal man. Hendrix shoves me toward him, and I smother the terrified scream escaping my throat.
“Put her in the cells. Let’s show her what kind of people she’s playing with.”
“Please,” I beg.
“I suggest you learn to close your mouth unless you’re being spoken to,” Hendrix snarls. “I will put you in your place, girl. Don’t doubt it. Your begging, it means nothing to me.”
My lip trembles, and I drop my head.
“Now, put your arms behind your back.”
I snap my head up. “What? No.”
Hendrix growls, spinning and stalking over to his desk. He pulls out a set of handcuffs, and with a determined glare he walks over, grasping my shoulder and spinning me around.
I decide this is my moment to fight. I swing my leg backwards, hitting him in the kneecap. He bellows, but his fingers don’t leave my shoulder. He slams me forward, pressing me against the wall. I squirm and kick, twisting my body in a poor attempt to escape his hold. Suddenly, there’s a cold, hard item pressed against my temple.
“It’s simple,” he hisses into my ear. “You do as I ask, or I blow your brains out. Either is fine with me. You choose right now to live or die. What’s it going to be?”
“It doesn’t matter either way,” I cry, squirming.
“Live or die?” he roars, pressing me harder into the wall.
“Live!” I scream. “Live!”
“Then shut your mouth, and do as you’re fucking told,” he snarls.
He removes the gun, and my knees threaten to give way. I am shaking all over, and my teeth clatter together. Hendrix pulls my hands behind my back, causing a pained wince to leave my throat. Then he snaps on a pair of handcuffs. He spins me around, and our eyes meet for a moment. There has to be something else in there. Surely this can’t be everything? He is acting like a monster, but there’s a depth to his eyes that says otherwise.
“Please, let me have some water,” I whisper.
“Do you think this is a fucking luxury holiday?” he snaps.
“I’ll die, and then you won’t get your sale.”
His eyes flicker with shock for a moment, and then they go hard. “Don’t threaten me again, girl.”
He shoves me toward the blond man, and he takes hold of the chain linking the cuffs together and tugs. I can do nothing but obey. Like a naughty puppy, I follow him down the halls.
As he leads, I take in my surroundings. Most of the doors to the left and right of us are closed, so I can’t see inside them. There’s a large room right at the end to the left, and I can hear noisy voices and music coming from it. We reach the end of the hall, and there’s an old, broken wooden door. Blondie opens it, and shoves me down.
The steps are rickety, and it smells like mold and rats. I cringe and force myself to stay strong as reality begins sinking in. We reach the bottom, and a lightly dimmed space comes into view. I can see three cells, all with bars. My body begins to seize with panic when I get a glimpse of their size. They’re tiny, with no bed, no toilet, nothing. They’re just a cramped little space. I shake my head, and dig my heels in. Blondie pushes me from behind, but I tighten my legs and refuse to move. With a hard shove, I go soaring forward.
“Plea
se,” I beg, gripping the bars when he tries to shove me in. “Please don’t make me go in there. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Get in,” he grunts.
“Are you human at all?” I scream.
He makes another grunting sound, swings the bars open and throws me in so hard I slam against the back wall and collapse onto the floor. I charge forward, and he takes hold of me, uncuffing me quickly before slamming the bars in my face. I scream and wrap my fingers around them, shaking, screaming and crying. Blondie just walks out, as if my crying doesn’t affect him at all. I drop to my knees, sobbing. How did I end up here?
I hear a croaking sound, and spin in my cell, my entire chest rising and falling with panic. Then I see Eric in the next cell, curled up and bleeding. “Eric?” I cry, crawling over and trying to reach through the bars between us. Eric chokes, and his body shudders.
“Eric!” I cry. “Wake up!”
He coughs and his eyes flutter open. “I…I…Indi?” he croaks.
“I’m here. Are you okay? Oh, Eric, I’m so sorry.”
He coughs again, and groans in pain. I hear the sound of boots, and turn to see Blondie coming back with a small bottle of water. He shoves it through the bars, glares at me, and then turns and walks back up. He gave me water? Why? I crawl toward the water, my throat burning with desperation. I want to open it, and devour it. Then I hear Eric coughing beside me, and I know this has to go between us both. I unscrew the bottle, and press it to my lips.
The water is cool, and soothing. Desperation racks my body. It takes everything inside me not to drink the entire thing. My hands shake after a few deep pulls. I don’t want to stop drinking, but I don’t have a choice. My friend will die without this water.
I crawl toward the bars, and I gently push the water through. Eric is sitting up, his head hanging, his clothes torn and bloody.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Here.”
He lifts his head, and my heart twists when I see his blackening eye, his split lip, and the dried blood on his chin. He spots the water, and his eyes flare with need. He pulls himself toward me, and snatches the bottle from my hands, tearing the lid off and pressing it to his lips. He drinks the water down in three, large gulps. When it’s empty, he lifts his eyes to me, looking like he feels even worse now.
“So thirsty,” he croaks.
“I know,” I soothe. “I will find a way to get us out of here, Eric. I swear.”
“E…e…everything hurts,” he whispers.
Tears sting my eyes. “I know, honey. I know. I’m going to find a way out of here, I promise.”
“They’re…” He takes a rasping breath. “They’re going to sell you, Indi.”
My heart hammers, and I swallow, trying to keep my face calm. “I know, but I won’t let them. I will figure this out.”
“We’re on the ocean,” he croaks. “How do we escape?”
“You listen to me,” I whisper, reaching through the bars and touching his hand. “There is always a way.”
“Indi…”
“No, Eric, don’t you give up now. If you give up, we have nothing.”
“I’m so hungry,” he says, his eyes wide and pained.
“I know, me too.”
I lean back against the bars, still holding his hand. I hear his breathing become deep again, and I know his body is exhausted. He’s been beaten, he’s dehydrated, and he’s hungry. If they don’t feed us soon, the outlook isn’t going to be good. I close my eyes, and they burn angrily. I focus on my breathing, and try to steady my pounding heart. I need to keep calm. I need to be strong and find a way to survive this.
If I don’t…
Eric and I will both die.
I won’t have that.
Life is pretty good, and why wouldn’t it be? I’m a pirate, after all!
Throwing up when there is nothing left in your stomach is the worst feeling in the world. I get seasick the next afternoon, and even though I’m dehydrated and starved, I end up crouched over throwing up bile because it’s all I have left. Eric has passed out again, and he’s looking worse and worse with every passing hour. I’m worried about him. He’s not strong mentally, and he’s been beaten to top off the rest of the trauma we’re experiencing. I think he’s shutting down.
The pirates came in and gave us some food and water this morning. I gave mine to Eric. He didn’t hesitate as he scoffed down my food, and then threw it all back up again. I knew that would happen. I warned him to eat slowly, but he didn’t. I kept the water, slowly sipping it, gently easing my stomach into it. It didn’t last long, though. Outside, the wind is howling and the ship is rocking. There is only so much my stomach can take.
I find myself the cleanest spot on the floor, and curl up as my stomach turns and protests. I close my eyes; my body is exhausted. I know I need to turn my mind off and rest, but I’m terrified. How will we get off this ship? God, will we get off this ship? What happens after they sell me? Will they kill Eric? Dump him in the ocean? I would never sleep again knowing something had happened to him because of me. And, let’s face it, this one is on me. I was the one who tried to run.
I feel my mind spin and I try to count, in a poor attempt to settle it. I need to rest. I need my strength. Everything inside me hurts, and the outside is so battered I don’t even want to think about it. I just want to go home. I want to go and re-make every stupid decision in my life that led me to this point. Would I ever see another person again? Or would these pirates be all I knew forever? Worse, if they truly did sell me, would I spend the rest of my life as a sex slave?
I shiver and my stomach coils tightly.
I won’t cry.
They don’t deserve that.
“Police!” someone suddenly yells.
Police? I bolt upright, and my body screams in protest. I tilt my head to the side, and try and listen to the noises above. Beside me, Eric begins stirring.
“Get the guns ready,” another bellows.
“They’re close, but they know they can’t bring us in,” a pirate barks. “Let them try. We will blow them to smithereens before they get the chance.”
There are police close by? I get to my hands and knees, and my stomach turns angrily. Is this our chance for freedom? Can we escape? Eric is awake now, and he’s staring at me, his gaze a little far off. “W…w…what’s happening?”
“The police!” I cry. “They’re outside.”
His eyes widen, and he gets on his hands and knees too. “We need to make noise, scream for help.”
“They’ll kill us,” I cry, shaking my head.
“They’re going to kill us anyway, Indigo. Scream!”
“HELP!” I scream, my entire body filling with adrenaline. “Someone HELP!”
“HELP US!” Eric bellows loudly. “HELP!”
We hear cursing and shuffling on board, as well as loud yelling. Every inch of my skin tingles, and my heart is thumping so hard it is making me feel a little ill. This is it, possibly the only chance we’ll ever get to escape.
“HELP!” We both yell at the same time, so loudly I have no doubt they heard. We keep going.
I hear the cell door swing open, and Hendrix comes storming down. Okay, he is the last person I expected to see. His eyes are wild, and he charges in until he hits the bars. He grips them and glares at me. “Shut up,” he barks.
“Like hell,” I croak. “HELP!”
He pulls his gun from his jeans, and he points it at me. “Shut it, or I kill you.”
“Do you think I care?” I scream. “Go ahead and kill me, it’s got to be better than what you have planned.”
Something flashes across his expression for a moment, before he turns his gun to Eric. My body freezes.
“But you do care if I kill him.”
“Don’t,” I rasp.
He turns his dark gaze to me. “Shut your mouth. One more word, and I fucking blow him to pieces in front of you.”
“Just let us go,” I cry.
“Didn’t you hear me?” h
e bellows. “I said, shut up!”
I get up to my feet, and everything inside me shakes. I walk over, gripping the bars and glaring through them. “Kill us then, you’ll be doing us both a favor. HELP!”
He snarls, rips a key out of his pocket and unlocks the bar. As soon as he pulls the door open, I charge. His arm lashes out and hits me in the chest, sending me flying backwards. I land on my backside, but my body is full of far more determination than anything else he could throw at me. I lunge to my hands and knees, and I crawl forward, hitting his legs so hard he goes stumbling backwards.
“Fuck!” he curses.
I crawl past him, and hit the bottom of the stairs before he grips my ankle, pulling me backwards. I scream out loudly, and I feel him drop to his knees as he wraps his arms around my chest, pulling me backwards. One, large arm holds me to him while the other presses against my mouth so hard I feel my teeth bite into my lip. I squirm and kick, giving every ounce of fight I have inside. He slams my head back into his shoulder, and his hand tightens over my mouth.
“Stop,” he orders.
I shove my head forward, and slam it back so hard he makes a loud oomphing sound. He snarls, and lets go of my mouth, pulling his gun from the floor and pressing it against my temple. “Don’t make me kill you, because I don’t fucking want to.”
He doesn’t want to?
He doesn’t…want to?
I begin to shake so violently, I lose all my fight. My body slumps, and his arm flexes as he holds me up. He’s panting, and my entire body moves with each angry breath he takes. He slowly lowers the gun from my head before pulling me back and getting to his feet, lifting me with him. He doesn’t let me go, he simply takes me into the cell and lowers me down onto the floor. Then, finally, he lets go.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he says. “I don’t want to kill you or your friend, so just stay quiet.”