So I start drinking heavily to numb myself. Cigarettes turn to weed, and when amphetamines come into play, things get a little easier. But one month later, everything changes.
* * *
I'M WOKEN FROM A dead sleep. Well, woken isn't really the right word. I'm still drunk and high from the night before, so I'm being guided down the hallway by a rough pair of hands. Niko.
“Jus' lemme sleep, you piece of sh—”
Niko slaps me.
“Shut the hell up.” I register an unusual tone to his voice. Worry? Fear?
I perk up when a blast of fresh air hits my face. Outside. I'm outside! I stare up at the stars, so brilliant and close, and they rotate like a kaleidoscope—not their natural movement, but my amphetamine-infused brain makes everything spin. I'm lifted into the back of a semi-truck already full of women, girls, and children. A sensation of nausea curdles in my stomach. Not again.
I hear low voices speaking outside. “ . . . called me from the hospital . . . a man . . . messed him up real bad.” Niko's voice is panicked if I'm not mistaken, but I can't focus on his words very well.
The other man speaks. “ . . . coming here?”
“ . . . not much time . . . no trace of her . . . leave now.”
I drop to the floor of the semi and sleep. When I awake, my brain is throbbing. The conditions are terrible, cramped, and the darkness is constant. The smell of feces and urine is overpowering. Babies cry and children whine softly. We stop only for the driver to sleep and, in the end, we've driven for more than a day. We're either near Mexico or The Great Lakes area by my estimate, but it's impossible to know for sure since it's dark when we finally stop.
I register the fact that the temperature isn't stifling hot, as it would be had we driven down the west coast, so I can only assume that we are closer to the east coast. The semi unloads directly into a building, where we are ushered through by more men. Ahead is a large warehouse door, and once we reach it, one of the men grabs a boy who is 8 years old at the most, and in certain terms assures us that if we make any noise, he'll kill the child.
The doors raise and we're at a harbor. A large ship is docked ahead. I glance around as we walk, seeing that it's not a big, commercial harbor and even if I did try to escape, there doesn't seem to be anywhere else to go. It's vacant and barren.
At the bottom of the ship, a door is opened and we're herded inside, a man counting each person as they pass him. Up above is an incredibly beautiful night sky, and I stare up at the inevitably dying embers of starlight. I wonder if I will ever see the sky again.
18
Two months later
HE'S NOT FIGHTING BACK. My hands are locked around his throat and I'm squeezing as hard as I can. His face is turning red, and veins are bulging from the pressure, but he only lifts his hands in a gesture to shows he doesn't plan on fighting me.
I stare at his palms, the lines and callouses, and a memory of his hands entwined with mine as we made love flashes through my mind. My will falters, knowing that I can't kill someone I once loved with so much passion, even though he must be here to hurt me. My hands loosen their grip, and I sag sideways, falling to the ground after having used the last of my strength in a desperate attempt at vengeance. I can't even get revenge before I die.
* * *
I'M NOT DEAD. HOW disappointing. My body aches, my mouth is filled with the taste of blood and, based on the throbbing in my side, I'm fairly certain a rib is broken. I don't want to open my eyes and face another day.
There is something different about my surroundings. It's dark, as usual, but I'm lying on something soft and smooth. I feel something I haven't enjoyed in what seems like forever: warmth. My hands and feet don't feel numbed from the constant cold. I inhale, expecting the normal scent of dampness and filth, but instead, I smell clean, fresh air, and another familiar, comforting scent I can't place. My left eye is swollen shut, so I tentatively crack my right eye open to gauge my surroundings. Light seeps in under a door on the far side of the room, and gloomy daylight filters through the sides of the curtains. A hotel?
I'm forgetting some important detail, but I can't seem to remember it. All I recall is pain, humiliation, men. I had gotten used to acceptance, not fighting; it's easier, but when the demands of men shift to the realm of cruelty, my body reacts, and I fight. They always win, no matter how hard I try.
I move to sit up, and I gasp as a stabbing pain shoots through my side. Yep, another broken rib. A figure appears in front of me, then I hear the murmur of a voice.
The lamp on the bedside table switches on, causing an unexpected brightness. I shield my eyes from the glare, and I see him, sitting in a chair next to the bedside table.
“You,” I hiss, my voice low and raw. “Of all people.”
“How do you feel?” He gets up from the chair and moves to sit on the bed beside me. My body automatically tenses at the nearness of a man.
“Like I've had sex with approximately a thousand men in the last four months.” I lean back and spread my arms, the offer clear. “What's one more?”
Samson's jaw hardens and his eyes widen, as if I had slapped him, but he makes no move toward me. He composes his features before he starts speaking again.
“I'm . . . I'm not here to have sex with you, Tula.” His steel-grey eyes are lit with intensity. “I've been looking for you for four months.”
A small flicker of hope ignites inside of me, but I tamper that traitorous slut down. She's left me hanging too many times. I'm somewhat suspicious of Sam, and with good reason. First, he's a man, and second, he's a police officer. Those are two people I have zero trust of right now.
I am warm. I am no longer imprisoned on a cold, damp freighter. For now, these realities will be enough. However, my story is far from over. I don't accept that this is remotely close to a happy ending. Even though it's the last place on Earth I want to go, when I'm strong enough, my only goal is to get back on that ship.
****Look for the continuation of Tula and Sam's story, coming Spring 2015 in the book Ashes to Flames.****
Afterword
I hope you come away from this experience with more knowledge about a sensitive topic. Sex trafficking is a very real occurrence in the United States and all over the globe. Prostitution is the most obvious arena. If you ever see a situation that doesn't seem normal, trust your gut. Call The National Human Trafficking Resource Center hotline at 888-373-7888.
Marital rape is also a sad truth. No one has the right to force anyone to take part in any sex acts without consent. Spousal rape can be broadly defined as “any unwanted intercourse or penetration (vaginal, anal, or oral) obtained by force, threat of force, or when the [victim] is unable to consent.” The good news is that the victim has a right to file a police report. Call 800-656-HOPE for help at any hour of the day.
More information is available at www.rainn.org.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to fellow authors Brandace Morrow and Tanya Holmes for encouraging me to write this book. You both have been of tremendous help and support.
I also want to thank my betas, Joy, Anne, and Kim, for their feedback.
And lastly, thanks to my awesome husband, who picks up the slack when the characters in my head start talking to me. I love you.
Author's Note
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading my book! Did it make you laugh, cry, or think deeply about something you hadn't considered much before? If so, please consider leaving a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads.
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Do you enjoy unique love stories? If so, check out my debut novel, The Blue Amaryllis:
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Table of Contents
Prologue
4
1
6
2
15
3
24
4
31
&nb
sp; 5
44
6
49
7
55
8
62
9
67
10
76
11
83
12
90
13
99
14
105
15
113
16
120
17
125
18 133
Afterword 138
Acknowledgments 139
Author's Note 140
Table of Contents
Prologue
Embers of Starlight Page 11