by Maegan Abel
Hands began pulling us from the van, shoving us forward into the darkness. It wasn’t until the first one hit the ground and started to run that the others realized just how bad things were about to become. Rapid gunfire filled the night air and the outline of her body crumpling to the dirt was apparent. Screams followed and shouted orders for silence were punctuated by threats and blows. Emma clung to my arm as I stood as still as I could, trying to do exactly what I’d told her to do from the beginning. Be invisible.
“Move,” one of the men said, his accent thick as he shoved the first girl in the line toward what appeared to be nothing but flat darkness.
We were outside, the sky perfectly clear, but the tiny sliver of a moon cast almost no light. We veered around the slumped body of the woman who had tried to run and I fought to keep my eyes from looking to see which one it was. It didn’t matter. Emma's hand was in mine as we continued toward what I could now see must be mountains. I wasn’t sure where we were but my best guess was we were about to cross the border into Mexico. I wondered briefly if they planned to make us hike through the mountains. My back was already aching and I fought to keep myself moving in order to keep up with the line as we continued on.
Once we were closer to the base of the mountains, we were led into a small cave. Panic surged through me when I saw where they were taking us. Underground. There were few things that bothered me, but I’d always hated tunnels.
Following the woman in front of me, I nodded at Emma before lowering myself down the rickety wooden planks forming the makeshift ladder. Every movement hurt and my lungs felt ready to explode as I tried to calm my breathing. The fear of the others around me seemed to be drawing mine higher. The second Emma's feet hit the floor, she locked her arm through mine again as we waited for the rest of the group. The only light came from the flashlights above and the one in front of our line. We were in some sort of room with a few wooden beams forming an arch leading to even more darkness.
“No. No!” Someone at the top screamed and the sound of a scuffle could be heard. Seconds later, screaming came from behind us and we were shoved as the unmistakable sound of a body slamming into the ground echoed in the small room. Sobbing followed as we huddled closer together and I closed my eyes. I could still hear her wailing, whoever she was. The fall wasn’t enough to kill her, but there was no way she didn’t have broken bones.
As we began moving again, I focused on the ground, terrified to look up. I was small, I’d always been well aware of that, but it felt like the top of the tunnel was almost scraping my scalp, though I knew it wasn’t that low. There were wooden beams every so often, probably the only thing keeping it from caving in and killing us all. The thought made me shiver involuntarily and it took everything in me not to cry out in pain.
The further we went, the more I noticed the dampness of the ground turning into a steady stream of water running down the center of the path. It became increasingly difficult to avoid and eventually, we had no choice but to walk through it. The shoes I’d managed to keep throughout this ordeal were nearly destroyed by this point anyway, but the water seeping into them made me even more uncomfortable as my feet squished along.
My toes went numb first, followed by the pinprick of numbness in my feet. I started to wonder if I would lose feeling again and if so, would I be able to continue walking? Just as I thought it, the room expanded around us and another makeshift ladder came into view. I held back the sigh of relief that wanted desperately to escape my lips. The ladder was unstable, to put it mildly, and even those around me who weren’t as injured struggled on their way up.
I waited, cautiously making my way backward in the line so I would be the last to go as I tapped the toes of my shoes against the dirt, hoping to bring back some of the feeling. It didn’t work. The tingling rose to the tops of my legs and my hips as complete numbness followed behind it.
The man behind me shoved my shoulder toward the wooden planks in the wall and I took a deep breath, cautiously grabbing the one just above my head as I started up. My feet slipped twice and the man cursed in Spanish each time, grabbing my lower leg as if that would hold me in place if I were to lose my grip. My arms shook with both exertion and fear as the numbness moved up past my ankles. I could still move my feet, though, so I tried not to let myself panic as the opening overhead came into view.
Emma grabbed one of my arms to help me the last few steps and I moved us toward the edge of the group of women huddled in the corner. Everyone was breathing heavily after the hike through the tunnel and a few were sitting or kneeling in the dirt. I kept my shoulders up, doing everything I could to appear calm and collected though I felt anything but. My legs were trembling and I knew they would give out soon enough.
The door on the other side of the room burst open and several men came in. I kept my hold on Emma's arm, keeping her slightly behind me as they started grabbing at those who tried to run. It wasn’t until the few dressed in suits, holding themselves much higher than the enforcers trying to wrangle us into groups, entered that I knew this day was nowhere near over.
As they walked through, speaking Spanish, I racked my brain, trying to interpret fast enough to keep up with the multiple conversations. They were dividing us up, that much I gathered. Some were going to a place they were calling The Den, others to The Club. I kept my chin high as their eyes fell on me. I’d released Emma's arm but she was staying close. This could be the point where we were separated, but I hoped she followed my lead and stayed confident enough to be sent wherever they decided to send me.
“This one,” one of the men said in Spanish, tilting his head as he looked me over. He stepped closer and I held my ground, causing him to grin. “She comes with me.” I tried not to panic as they started separating out the two groups. Emma stayed close and by the time we were herded back into yet another van, we were still together.
The drive seemed to take forever. There were several stops where they tossed bags of food and bottles of water to us before they continued on the road. It wasn’t nearly as cramped now that there were only five of us in the back of this van.
When the van came to a halt again, I braced myself, waiting for them to open the door. They didn’t. There was talking outside and then we were moving again, slowly this time. It wasn’t until the engine cut off that my anxiety rose. The door slid open and we were ordered out of the van. The sound of music was audible through the walls of the building directly in front of us but when I looked up, shock began to register. It wasn’t a seedy club in an old warehouse like back in Vegas. This place was spectacular. The women around me murmured for a moment before being hushed by our captors and led around to a door near the back of the house. But it couldn’t even be called a house. Even coming from a family with money, this place was nicer than any I’d seen.
As we approached, the door opened and there was a collective gasp from the small group. This was so different from what I expected. We were hustled into the house and taken down the hall to an office of sorts. Once inside, my eyes were drawn to the lean man behind the large desk. He was dressed in a suit, his jacket hung over the back of his chair in a manner that spoke of distinction. His hair was styled elegantly and even the way he held himself while sitting behind the desk showed power. He was someone who cared about appearances.
“Ladies, welcome to Revolución Oscuro,” he said, his accent thick as I tried to make sense of the term. Dark Revolution? “We call it The Club.”
“What kind of club is it?” one of the women behind me asked. I felt Emma move closer to me as the man’s eyes slid in that direction, finding the woman who spoke.
“Call it entertainment,” he said with a smile. He stood, surprising me with his height, before heading past us toward the door. “Come. I’ll give you a tour of the facilities.”
I held Emma back a bit, keeping us toward the middle as the guards followed along behind. On the main level, where we were, it seemed to be mostly staff—something similar to a hotel or restaurant. P
eople were moving around us as we passed through a massive kitchen, none of them even bothering to give any of us a second glance. There was a door in the corner and when it opened, the sound of music, which I’d become accustom to at this point, doubled.
Heading down a narrow set of what I was figuring to be servant stairs, we came out in a room I recognized. Women walked around in various stages of undress, some just coming back from performing and others getting ready to go out. There were no windows on this level but a guard posted at each door. I was beginning to put the pieces together.
As we walked through, we headed out a side door and onto the floor of The Club. It was strange to be somewhere that seemed so similar to what I’d seen in Vegas, yet was so vastly different. We headed up a small set of steps to a middle level and out a door on the far side. The door led to a hallway lined with red doors, each with a number.
“You will each be assigned a number. You will be known as that number. You will answer to that number and any name a client gives you.” The man’s accent was so thick, it took a moment after he finished speaking for his words to sink in. But it made sense. The best way to keep us in line was to strip us of our identities. My brain saw the logic even as it screamed at me to revolt against the idea. “You each have your own room. You will be given a schedule and during business hours, the only time you are allowed into your room is with a client.”
I was grateful for the smart group of women. Not a single one of them asked any questions or made any remarks about what was expected of us or what exactly we were supposed to do with clients. We understood. Some of us more than others.
Chapter Sixteen
Far From Home
It didn’t take long for me to realize I was in way over my head. This place, while it seemed like a strip club with the added benefits of a brothel, was on a completely different scale. An older woman, who we were told to refer to as One, and who had been here long enough that she was seen as the leader of the group, explained the rules to us before assigning us each to our recently vacated rooms.
I didn’t ask why the rooms were vacated. It didn’t really matter.
I was Nine. Emma was Eleven. Her room was directly beside mine and I gave her a nod as she opened her door to head inside. Since it was already near closing time, One told us we would have tonight to shower and acquaint ourselves with our rooms. There would be food brought in for us tonight, but starting tomorrow, we were to follow the schedule and eat in the back room, where we’d come through earlier.
We would be required to do a number of jobs until the owners of The Club determined where we would each be best suited. We would dance, we would serve, we would try desperately to earn enough money for our owners to find us worthy enough to keep. That was the job. That was what you had to do to survive. Make yourself an asset to the business.
As I opened the door to my own room, I couldn’t help the small gasp of surprise. I’d been expecting something dirty and cheap but with the look of the rest of this place, I should’ve known better. The room looked like a large hotel room, complete with an attached bathroom. The shower and tub were both large, the shower boasting a bench along one wall. As I tossed my filthy clothes into a pile on the large counter top, it occurred to me that this room, and everything in it, had been designed for the client. This was for them to use as they saw fit.
Just as we were.
This place gave the illusion of life and freedom, but it was far from it.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, fighting the urge to cry as I saw myself for the first time. I didn’t even look like me anymore. The still healing bruises on my face were nothing I hadn’t dealt with before, but my eyes belonged to a girl I thought I’d put to rest a long time ago. I’d never wanted to become her again, but here I was, left with no options if I wanted Zane and Conner safe. Just thinking their names brought tears to my eyes but I refused to let them fall. I couldn’t be that girl, the one with emotions, anymore. I had to get rid of her if I wanted to survive. And for now, I wanted to survive.
As I stepped into the shower, I let the water wash away thoughts of home. Zane. Conner. My life. Everything I wanted it to be running down the drain with the dirt of the past few days. The last week? I couldn’t even be sure anymore and there was no reason to care. The part of me that worried if Conner made it back to Zane, if he was okay, if they were both okay, was scrubbed away as the carefully controlled shell of the person I used to be slipped into place.
I could survive this for now. One day at a time.
It didn’t take long in this hell before I realized just how bad it could be. While we had a somewhat upscale clientele, some of them, I was learning, were savages who didn’t give a fuck about anything but their own pleasure. Well, in all honesty, none of them cared about anything aside from their own pleasure but at least some of them had the common decency to treat us like human beings.
Marco was one of the exceptions.
Vicious wasn’t a strong enough description for him and from the first day he entered The Club after my arrival, I knew there was something off about him. He would watch me no matter what station I was at that day, keeping a close eye and making comments that would keep me on edge as I waited for him to make the transaction. But he didn’t. He purchased time with other girls in the group and from the looks of shock and the whispered conversations in passing, I knew he was just as savage as I’d thought.
Dancing was my favorite station and even though it was tougher physically than it used to be with my still healing spine, I seemed to draw enough of a crowd. I was able to lose myself in the music and forget, for a time, I was living in hell.
But the moments in the room were worse.
I started steeling myself each time a new client requested me and I spent the time I was with them planning. Not for my escape, I couldn’t get out and I knew that. There were people who were only safe as long as I cooperated, people whose names I no longer even allowed myself to think. But, I could figure out a way to get Emma out. And I wanted to get her out. Her eyes got a little more empty with every day that passed.
I talked to her when I had the chance, whispering words of encouragement as she adapted to this nightmare. It was harder watching her suffer than it was to endure my time in the room myself. I knew what I was, but she didn’t deserve this life.
The day Marco finally purchased me, I knew I’d never be the same.
“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice smooth as his hand grazed down my bare arm. I was among the lucky ones here because I was taught Spanish growing up in Texas, though dialect was a bit of a challenge at times. It was strange to find that I enjoyed and even appreciated being forced to speak a different language. It helped add to the barrier between her and me.
“Of course,” I replied, doing my best to keep the trepidation edging up inside me from spilling into my voice. As we walked down the hall toward my room, I saw Emma watching me, but I couldn’t face her. I needed to give her a nod and a look telling her it was all fine but I wasn’t sure I could pull it off. So, I lifted my chin and put on my game face, trying desperately to convince myself this was just like any other client and there was nothing to solidify my unease.
The second I opened my door, I knew my fear was warranted.
He grabbed my hair, shoving me toward the center of the room and catching me completely off guard. I let out a small gasp of surprise but managed to stay on my feet. I spun to face him as he slammed the door, grinning viciously.
“You did better than anticipated. You were the one they were watching,” he said as he began slowly stalking to the side, keeping his distance by moving in a wide arc. My instincts told me to back away, to run, but the knowledge of what I was kept me in place. I had no options. Running from this would get me killed. I tried to think but terror had my thoughts ricocheting around my brain in a wild mess. His words weren’t making any sense. I understood, but I couldn’t process them for some reason. I turned my h
ead, keeping him in sight without shifting my body.
“It wasn’t until the warning flags started popping up that we knew just how big of a problem you would be, Lili.” I froze at the sound of my name. Her name. No one here, outside of Emma, knew that name. I was Nine and I’d kept it that way in order to keep them safe. My breath came in a short, shuddering gasp as the pain piercing my chest caught me off guard. I hadn’t realized hearing that name would lower my defenses.
“How…?” I whispered, stopping myself once I remembered what I was. I was a toy, a prop, something to be used and tossed aside. I was not to speak unless I was told to do so. I knew my place.
He laughed and the sound of it made my spine tingle as awareness started filtering back in. “You haven’t figured things out yet? We thought you were the bright one.” He stepped closer and my breath stopped completely as I watched him. He lifted a hand, trailing a knuckle down my face from my temple to my jaw before looking past me toward the wall. “Make sure you’re giving the viewers at home a show.” Without thought, my head turned, casing the wall he’d been looking at and finding what I’d missed before. The mirror. How had I missed the darkness in it? There was a camera. I vaguely wondered if there was one in the bathroom too, but the thought barely had time to take hold before the first blow came.
His foot connected with the back of my knee, effectively taking me down. A surprised yelp left my lips as my body crumpled, but I didn’t fall completely. His hand fisted in my ponytail, holding me as I shakily gathered myself to my knees. Once I was there, he yanked sharply on my hair, tilting my head up to face him.
“Now, I’m going to try to get the information they want, but I’m going to have a little fun while I do. It’s the bonus I get for putting up with you little whores.” His erection was evident from the angle of our bodies but it was nothing I wasn’t used to at this point. I’d had rough, I’d faced borderline punishing—in the weeks since my arrival here, especially. But there was a rule here that no client could leave a lasting physical mark on a girl. We had to be able to continue performing. They had us for anywhere from half an hour to several hours, sometimes even for the night. But afterward, we still had to be able to perform. Marco had always seemed like an exception to that rule and I’d wondered how he’d gotten away with it. Now I knew. He was part of the operation, someone sitting in to watch us. And he was loving it. Knowing that boosted my fear to a nearly choking panic. There was no way out of this and I was in no way prepared like I’d thought.