by Paige Notaro
I took the bottle and swirled it. It looked clear but I took one whiff and knew it wasn't water. "What is it?"
"Tequila," Teresa's cousin said. "You ever have some?"
"No." I’d seen it in the restaurant bar, but I'd never tried anything harder than beer.
"It's good," he said. "It's local. We make it here. Just try a little."
Both of them were watching me now. I held my breath and filled my mouth. It burned the second I swallowed, and it was all I could do to keep it down. I started coughing and Teresa's cousin laughed. It was a mean laugh.
"It's great, thanks." I coughed and handed him back the bottle.
The car started rolling. I sunk in my seat trying to control myself. Tequila. I'd have to get used to this later, when no one was around to watch.
"Yo where we taking her?" Teresa's cousin asked.
"Shh, relax." Teresa was saying. "Hey Georgia baby, how you feelin’?”
"Hmm?" I turned to her but my head wasn't taking orders. I knew the tequila must be strong but it was kicking in fast. My head rolled like a giant desert boulder across the leather until my cheek plopped on it.
Teresa glanced at me and laughed. "Oh shit. She's out man. Girl's out cold. "
It was funny. I was such a light weight. A home schooled naive little 19 year old so far from home. I giggled on the seat, heard myself and giggled even harder.
The two of them started speaking in Spanish excitedly. They were trying not to embarrass me, how sweet of them. I shut my eyes and when I opened the air was full of fireflies – no they were building lights. We were headed back down the highway towards the city. Everything seemed darker somehow and my eyelids felt so heavy.
Don’t let the curtain fall, I told myself for no reason.
My whole body felt exhausted. Was this tequila? People drank this stuff for fun? No, I'd seen people do shots before - even girls my size.
Some wide and vivid thought flared inside my head. It felt like panic, except I didn't have the energy for that. Barely had enough to think, That wasn't just tequila.
My eyes couldn't stay open. There was just the rattle and the roar of the car now. Spanish music. Spanish voices. Laughter. I sank deeper and deeper.
"Say goodbye to Texas," Teresa said.
My brain went blank.
CHAPTER THREE
Georgia
I woke up on a bed, itchy and with a pounding head. Someone had put me in an empty room, with just a tiny cot and bare wooden walls. A nook on the side was supposed to be a bathroom, but it had just a toilet, a plastic bucket and a faucet sticking out of the wall. I retched into the toilet and still felt queasy.
My head seemed to ring with voices. They screamed out, rattled the walls. I had this panic that Father had been right all along. God was as cruel as he'd said, and for disobeying, he really had cast me from the light. This was hell. I huddled in a corner and listened a long while until I heard the moans among the screams. I knew that noise deep down. This wasn't torture. I was hearing sex.
After that I started making noise of my own, pounding on the door and yelling for help. Eventually the lock clicked open and a massive man pushed in and scowled at me. His weathered face wore a vicious look that froze me. I could barely whisper: "Where am I?"
He shook his head, gestured for silence and shut the door again.
We built our own coffins on the farm, and when I was a kid I had hid in one once to avoid Father when he was angry. When he heard me clanking around, he’d decided to teach me a lesson and put a giant stone on top so I couldn’t get out. I’d gone mad in there screaming and yelling for hours. Ma still had the courage to spare me some of Father’s cruelty back then, and eventually she’d set me free.
No one was coming to save me from this.
I kicked my shoes off, lay on the bed and stared at the blank ceiling, wondering what sort of fool I'd been. "Jesus, Georgia. You'll believe anything" I remembered the girls saying on more than one occasion back at the restaurant in New York. They were right. No one else would have fallen for something this stupid.
All the world but us were sinners, Father had said, and they were not to be trusted. I’d learned the falsehood of that in New York, except I’d ended up too trusting. No punishment could match the headache the drugs were giving me. I didn’t even want to imagine what was going to happen to me after that.
The door opened sometime later and my heart nearly stopped with all the horrible possibilities as my massive kidnapper came back in. He dropped a tray of steaming soup and a loaf of bread and left without a word. My stomach felt horrible and I didn’t want to drink anything else someone gave me, but eventually, hunger returned. The soup was oily and I mostly just used it as dip for the bread. When it was done and I had nothing to do, I returned to the bed.
The emptiness crowded my thoughts, but I just lay there and tried not to think. It was easy for me. Father had been beyond cruel - that much I'd learned in my little time away from him. But all that punishment, all that silence - made this just bearable.
Cruelty training me for cruelty - I almost wanted to laugh. No matter where I went I couldn't escape it. Maybe it was all I deserved.
I sat and thought of the things I'd done wrong. The dumb mistakes I'd made that had brought me here. Every once in a while a really loud series of moans and cries would start up and take my attention. Were these screaming girls like me? Was that my purpose here? There were words too, but I couldn't make them out. It sounded like Spanish. It sounded like the things my fake friend Teresa had said while she damned me to this hell.
At some point dinner came, and at some point later, I ate it.
A bit after that, the light in my room switched off. The switch wasn’t in here. Nothing here was in my control except for the toilet to take away my waste and the faucet to wash away my dirt. I lay there in the dark, trying not to panic, panicking anyway and then crouched under the open faucet with my clothes off until the cool water settled me. My battered mind sank into exhaustion. I plopped down on the itchy bed sheets and passed out.
The next day, I woke up to the door opening. A woman was in my room, setting a stack of clothes in the corner. I popped out of bed, not caring I had only my underwear on.
"Please," I said. "Help me, please."
I ran up to her, but didn't have the courage to grab her shoulders and seize onto her like I’d planned. She had a tan worn face, and she looked over me like a mother - shrunk and exhausted. I knew then she would be as much help as my own mother had at the end.
"You wear," she said, pointing at the stack. "No see." She waved a hand over my breasts, and toddled out the door. I stood by the locked door until I started to shiver.
The clothes she had left me were all white. The fabric was much softer than my sheets and it looked like it had been washed many times. I pulled one over me, and it drifted down to my knees. It wasn't much better than the thick skirts and dresses I'd had to wear back at home. I searched the stack, but there was only another similar dress. Not even underwear. It was just enough to cover me and nothing more. Like wrapping foil for a present, I thought, as someone began to moan in some room nearby.
I washed my panties but couldn’t get them completely dry before I had to put them on. I felt filthy and dirty but safer too. Surely I couldn’t be used if I was dirty. Filth protected me. Cruelty and filth.
The door only opened twice more that day and just for food. All that I had other than my thoughts was a picture. I hadn’t noticed it for a long time – it had no frame and kinda just sunk into the drab wall, black and white. A cactus filled most of the frame, but I was drawn to the translucent needles sticking out all over it. You might not even notice if you weren’t careful, but now I knew - everything was more dangerous up close.
I spent more time looking at the land behind its arm and how it stretched out forever. I dreamed that I was out there seeing it in full color, using memories from the drive to Texas. The trip might have been poisoned from the start, but it d
idn’t take away from the beauty I’d seen along the way.
I unhooked the picture to bring it to my bed, and saw that the room had one thing else for me: the nail sticking out of the wood. I plucked it and checked the sharp end. The prick went deeper than I’d planned and drew blood, but I kinda liked it. It made me feel like I still existed. I lay on my cot and rolled the metal between my fingers. The panic didn’t come that night.
The next day, when my guard came in to give me my lunch, I studied him. The nail was clenched in my fist, ready, but he towered over me. I was David and he was Goliath, but I didn't have God to guide my hand. I just had me. Watching that mountain of muscle move, that seemed like not nearly enough.
I dropped the nail back behind my bedpost and didn't feel like eating for a long time. I lay on the bed and listened to the sounds of sex. A heaviness set on my chest. I could barely breathe. Maybe I would stop. That would be best. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even bring myself to use the nail on me – I’d thought about it more than once. But if this just ended, maybe that was better than what must be coming.
Eventually I rolled off and sat back under the faucet. I hadn't washed in a day, and as the water crept over me everything felt pleasingly blank.
I was still there sitting there hours later when the woman came back. She laid a new set of clothes on the bed, and grabbed the dirty ones I'd left in a puddle on the floor. Taking me firmly by the arm, she tugged me out and threw a towel over me.
"You... this." She wiped my shoulder once to demonstrate. "You this. Then you put on." She wagged the new dress.
I did as she told. She pulled a brush out and began to comb my hair. A strange warmth tickled me, as the motion made my mind reach for one of the few kindnesses Ma had done under the nose of my father. Even when I was well into my teens, she would sit behind me on the couch and brush my long blonde strands.
The woman clipped something in, then left the room to me. I felt what she had put on and decided it was a ribbon. I tugged the dress on. This fabric was smoother, softer - like a cloud. I didn't have to be so smart to know what was happening. They were going to show me off. Like I was some prize animal.
Not long after, the door clicked open. The woman stepped through, and another man followed. He was white, unlike her, but his face was thick and red and his stomach puffed out under a brown suit. He looked like a ripe tomato. Even his hair was a curly red froth, but there was only a little of it on the sides. He looked tired, but brightened up when he saw me.
"Oh yeah. Yeah, this is just fine."
The clear English made me forget myself. I ran up to him. "Please get me out of here. "
"Oh honey, I think that's what I'm going to do.” He brushed my hair but his hand ran to my cheek. He walked around me once, and nodded to the woman. "She's perfect."
Perfect for what? Even thinking it, I knew it was a stupid question. Even now, I could hear another of those rising moans pounding through the wall. The man's eyes fell on me like a touch. He was no friend.
I eyed the open door, but I could see the edge of the vast guard leaking into the frame.
The man had pulled out a phone. He spoke into it. "Hey Enrique, bring them the suitcase. They have what I want."
The woman led me towards the door and the big red man followed. I peeked back at the nail hiding just past the foot of the bed. I didn't know what I would have done if I had it right then. But I would do something. I didn't want to belong to anyone, but please not this man.
He was hungry.
The woman handed me off to the guard. He pressed his finger to his lips as he had done on the first day and tugged me out. We passed through a hallway lined with doors and I heard the sex sounds coming through clearer than before from many of them. A couple women stood along the way, but they looked worn out and they wouldn't even meet my eyes. It was useless to say anything.
The next door opened into the darkness outside. My bare foot scraped along earth. Something sharp cut into me, and I yelped. The guard elbowed my ribs. There were large stone buildings on either side of this one but we were headed out into the empty lot in front where a couple of cars were parked. A man in a suit stood next to a large SUV and he pulled open the back door. The space gaped at me wide and dark like a cave.
I started to scream as fierce as my dry throat would allow. The buildings nearby just stared back with dark lonely windows. The guard stopped in front of me and slapped me vicious across the face.
"Hey, now. No need for any of that." The big red man hooked my arm and rubbed my raw skin tenderly. "Don't worry. No one's going to hurt you."
He seemed gentle but it didn't comfort me. I felt that barely restrained hunger behind his touch. No one could hurt me because no one would touch what belonged to him.
I let him lead me to the car. He pressed me in and climbed next to me. I sat mute, but he buckled me, then himself.
The man who had opened the door climbed into the front. The doors clacked shut with finality.
"Where we taking her?" he asked.
I turned to the red man. I wanted to know the answer as well. "The place out west,” he said. “You know. The one Pablo gave me a month ago?"
"You sure it's safe?"
"Real safe. Pablo’s used it himself. He’s gonna send me a fulltime guard too. Make sure she’s protected."
He chuckled and turned his gaze on me. His eyes were blue and in the dim light they glowed at me like an animal, like a wolf or a lion.
We started moving, and I realized that I was completely under this man's control. "Who are you?" I said. "Where are you taking me?"
"Well, sweetheart, you can call me Mr. Tarly. And as for where I'm taking you?" His pleasant smile spread even wider. "Why, we're going to your new home."
CHAPTER FOUR
Georgia
There were lights in the distance but the car went the other way. Mr. Tarly breathed noisily but he stayed safely on his side of the seat. I stared out the window willing myself to hide within silence and shadows, but I would still catch him looking my way in the dim reflection.
Rows and rows of flat block houses flew by outside. Only a few had lights on, and the street lights came even less often. It reminded me a little of home and that was a scary thought cause it meant not that many people lived around here. People said cities were dangerous because no one cared about anyone else on the street, and that was true. But places like this were just as dangerous cause no one even noticed what was going on inside anyone else's house.
Soon, even the silent neighborhoods ended and we were driving past empty desert. Teresa had told me the land came alive at night. She had said a lot of things, and I guessed this might be the one of the few that was true. I didn't see anything moving out there tonight though. Just brushes and sand, empty under a pale moon. The only living things were me and these men.
Desert. Deserted. I understood the name now.
Eventually we pulled off the road onto dirt. The car rattled and my heart was shocked backed to life. I was safe while we were moving, but now we were reaching the end - my destination. I dared to look ahead, past the bulging suited form of the man up front.
"Almost there, honey," Mr. Tarly said gravely. He patted one of my hands. I jerked it away.
Our destination turned out to be a flat house, a smaller version of the ones we'd passed on the way here. This one was alone though, and we stopped on the dirt road just in front. The guards got out but I just stared at the dull brown walls and the large shuttered windows.
This was my new home.
My car door opened but I didn't budge. A thick palm touched the soft of my back and then I jumped out before it could go further. Mr. Tarly popped out behind me with a grunt and then stretched noisily as he looked over the place.
"Oh yeah," he drawled. "This is nice."
He walked in. The door wasn't locked apparently. There wasn't a need for it out here, really. You could see anyone coming in for miles. Or see anyone trying to leave. A light flick
ed on and cast Mr. Tarly's shadow out the door. It looked tall and spindly now, like some sort of insect.
"Come on, Georgia," he called out.
I glanced back. The nearest lights were so far out they might as well be another star shining forever away. I went in.
Mr. Tarly was lighting up each room one by one. I walked down the short hallway and passed a bedroom, and another bedroom and a small bathroom. There was one more room after, that was empty and concrete and held only a light bulb, a metal chair and a drain. The air that leaked out made me shiver and I rushed past.
I came out to a small kitchen. Mr. Tarly stood next to a sofa a room over, flicking on the TV. A chatter of voices poured out, all in Spanish, and he clicked through for a bit before tossing the remote away.
"Well, this place is just perfect, ain't it?' he asked. “Half of this damn country doesn't have the creature comforts this house provides. I think you'll be just fine here."
He beamed at me. Was I supposed to thank him? Or did he want me to talk back so he could discipline me? That hunger was gone for the moment though. This dinghy little shack must have satisfied him for now.
So I dared to ask him, "Why am I staying here?"
"Cause you'll be safe here."
"Safe from who?" I wouldn’t be safe from him.
"From everyone." He looked puzzled for a moment. "Let me ask you something? Where do you think you are?"
Was this a trick? Was he asking if I knew how to leave? "I don't know," I said, truthfully.
"Which country, I mean?"
"Which country?" It made no sense for a second and then it came together completely. The guards with broken English. The endless desert. The Spanish on the TV. "I'm in Mexico?"
"That's right, honey." He looked awfully pleased as if I were a student. "And are you here legally?"
"I didn't want to come here."
"So you were brought here."
"Yeah."
"Which means you don’t have any papers stating you’re actually a lawful citizen of the United States and entitled to return to its sovereign territory?'