by Paige Dearth
Lorraine stood to the side while Rae Harker entered, and she followed him into the living room, where he sat down on the sofa. “First, we did not find Maggie,” Harker started. “However, last night, the Camden police picked up a prostitute. She was high on coke and wouldn’t stop talking. She told her cell mate she had been kidnapped and put into sex trafficking. She said there were other kids with her, and one of them was named Maggie.”
Lorraine’s hands flew up to her chest. “Where is this girl? What’s her name? Can I speak with her?”
“Her street name is Shana. Her ID shows her as…” Harker pulled his notepad from his pocket. “Let’s see…Emily Quinn. They ran the name. No record or prior arrests. The thing is, we don’t know if that’s her real name or not. These pimps have cornered the market on fake identities. The hookers never have real IDs, and they won’t tell the police they were kidnapped or are being held against their will. Their pimps make sure they keep their mouths shut by threatening to kill them and their families,” he explained.
Detective Harker paused for a moment, giving Lorraine time to absorb the information.
“Shana is back on the streets. Her pimp bailed her out. When the police asked her about what she told her cell mate, she denied all of it. Told them she was a runaway, and since she had ID that showed she was nineteen, they couldn’t hold her,” Harker explained.
Shimmying up to the edge of her seat, Lorraine pressed on. “What else did she say about Maggie? Did she say where we can find her?”
“No, she only said there were five of them,” Harker said, “which is consistent with the five inhabitants we believe were held at the old prison. The girl said they were moved from the prison and kept in the basement of a house, and she was sold to a pimp in Camden. That’s all I know, and I wanted to come here so you have the same information.”
Just then, Rob and Keith walked through the front door. Seeing Detective Harker, Rob sent Keith up to his room and joined them in the living room.
“Detective Harker was just saying they picked up a streetwalker who said she was with Maggie,” Lorraine said with an in-your-face attitude.
“Well, that’s not exactly what I told you, Lorraine,” Harker said. Then he repeated the information to Rob.
Lorraine was charged with a renewed sense of hope. After Detective Harker left, she found Rob in the kitchen. “See? I told you, Rob. We can’t give up. Maggie’s out there. She’s alive, and someday she’ll come home.”
Rob sat silently for an uncomfortable amount of time. When he spoke, he was calm and deliberate. “Every time we get a piece of information—some of it bullshit, by the way—you open yourself up to being hurt all over again. This is the whole point of leaving this house, Lorraine. When we heal one little bit or take a tiny step forward, we get some piece of information that makes our hopes soar. And then, when it doesn’t pan out, we go back to that dark place in our lives again. It undoes any good we were able to establish. It’s a never-ending cycle. I wish Harker wouldn’t come here unless they actually find Maggie. I feel like we’re living in one of those movies where the character is running down a long hallway and, just when he’s about to reach the door, the hallway grows longer.”
Lorraine looked at him in disbelief. “We just got news that another girl was with Maggie a couple of months ago. It means our daughter is still alive!”
“It means that a cokehead hooker said she was with a girl named Maggie! That doesn’t mean it was our daughter. You know what? I’m done with this conversation. Lorraine, it’s time for us to move on. You need to decide if you’re with us or not,” he told her.
“Are you threatening to take Keith away from me? Is that what you’re doing?” she demanded.
“No, Lorraine, I’m telling you that our son deserves a life where he’s as important as his missing sister. I’m telling you that if I have to move on without you, then I will,” he said firmly and left the room.
Lorraine slumped into the closest chair. What was happening to her family? How could God have done this to them?
Chapter Forty-Two
The next three weeks were hell for Maggie. She was kept in the vertical box in the closet for most of the time. Armando threw mice and bugs into the box with her after she killed the snake. It was like a game for him, and the more he tortured her, the more Maggie lost her sense of self. She was being reduced to an animal and a servant, which was all part of the wrecking period.
Armando only took Maggie out of the box for three things: to eat, to be brainwashed, and for sex. Bit by bit, he broke her down. Spending twenty-two hours a day in a cramped box was more horrifying than anything else she had endured.
“Come on, bitch. Give me your hands. Time to come out and play,” Armando said after she’d been in the box for the first three days. He hoisted her out, and she crawled into the bedroom. Armando towered over her. “Fuck, girl! You stink. You need a damn shower before I can get within ten feet of your stank ass!”
Armando walked to the bedroom door and yelled, “Trinity! Get your fat, black ass up here, girl!”
Trinity, a longtime hooker, sauntered up to the second floor. She was only thirteen when Armando wrecked her for Rock. She had run away from an abusive mother, who was hooking her out to dirt bags in the neighborhood. After fleeing her home in Maryland, she found herself on Kensington Avenue, and Rock offered her a place to sleep. Trinity had become one of the most heartless prostitutes on the street. Now, when she wasn’t hooking, she helped the men wreck the girls and punish them for disobedience.
“What cha need, Armando?” Trinity asked, reaching the bedroom.
“I need you to give this nasty bitch a shower. She fuckin’ stinks, and I ain’t havin’ nothing that smells like that,” he said. “You give me a shout when she’s done, hear?”
“Yeah, I hear,” she responded.
After Armando left the bedroom, Trinity looked at Maggie, who was sprawled out on the floor. She had shit and pissed all over herself in the three days she was held captive in the box.
“I don’t know why I get stuck cleanin’ these bitches up,” Trinity said to herself. “Look at you,” she said to a weak and unresponsive Maggie. “You done got yourself all shitted and pissed up. You fuckin’ nasty, girl.”
Trinity helped Maggie up off the floor. She took slow steps toward the bathroom. Trinity reached in and turned on the shower. “Come on, girl. Get yourself in there,” Trinity ordered.
As the water splashed over Maggie’s head, she began to feel alive again. Trinity stood with her arms crossed and the shower curtain open so she could watch her. “You need to wash that hair and clean that dirty puss and ass, girl. Ain’t nobody gonna want to tap that thing. Man, you’re gross.”
“Can I have a glass of water, please,” Maggie croaked.
Trinity eyed her up and down, and then she walked over to the bathroom sink. She grabbed an old cup from the back of the toilet and filled it with water. She handed it to Maggie, who was still in the shower. Maggie guzzled the water and looked to her for more. “Nah, ’nuff of that shit. I ain’t your momma. Don’t go lookin’ at me with those sad eyes. I ain’t no stranger to suffering, so ya ain’t gettin’ no sympathy from me.”
Maggie finished showering and turned off the faucets. She slowly got out of the tub and took a dirty towel from the hook on the back of the bathroom door. After drying herself, she walked into the bedroom. “Are there any clothes for me?” Maggie asked Trinity.
“Ha! What you need with clothes? Nah, there ain’t no clothes for you, white girl. All you need to do now is sit on the bed and wait for Armando.”
Trinity studied Maggie closely. Minus the dark circles and pale skin that hadn’t seen sunlight in years, she could see the young girl’s beauty. Trinity put her hand on her chin and rubbed it as she thought about Maggie on the streets. The girl would get a lot of business. The men liked young and beautiful hookers. Maggie was both of those things.
Trinity’s glare made Maggie squirm. She w
anted to know what she was thinking and find out what they were going to do with her. “What’s going to happen to me?” Maggie finally asked.
“Lots a bad shit gonna happen to you if you don’t do what you’re told. I don’t tolerate anyone breakin’ the rules, and if you do, I’ll fuck you up real bad. When ya break the rules, I gets in trouble too, so just do what you gotta do. It’ll be a lot less painful,” Trinity threatened.
Maggie said a little prayer that her pain would stop. But as they had for three years, her prayers went unanswered.
Chapter Forty-Three
Exhaustion had taken hold of Maggie. Her muscles felt heavy, and her senses were dulled—exactly the results Rock desired. With heavy eyelids, she stared at the wall, looking at nothing. Finally, she found the strength to speak. “Please help me. I don’t want to hurt anymore,” she mumbled.
“Ain’t nobody that can help you, but you.” There was a short pause, “She’s cleaned up!” Trinity screamed.
The sound of the door being thrown open made Maggie jump. Armando approached her. “Here’s the deal. You’ll work for Rock, and you’ll do everything that’s expected of you. I don’t wanna hear no whining or complainin’, or you’ll find yourself in a shitload of trouble,” he said. “Stand up and show me what you got.”
Maggie got off the bed and stood. She swayed back and forth, trying her best to keep her balance. She squinted in an effort to make eye contact with Armando. “How’s Seth? Is he doing OK? Can I visit him?”
“You just ain’t had enough, huh? You’re not getting it. You don’t get to ask for things, girl, you give things. Things that men want. You understand?” he pressed.
Maggie lost her footing and landed hard on the floor. Armando lifted her up and threw her on the bed. “Go get the others,” he told Trinity coldly.
A few minutes later, there were several men in the bedroom. Each took his turn with her. When it was over, Armando hoisted her up by her shoulders. “Listen here. You Rock’s bitch now. If anyone asks, you are eighteen years old. Even if the police ask, you’re still eighteen years old.”
“Nobody will believe me. I’m only fourteen,” she managed to say.
“Damn girl, what ain’t you getting?” Armando asked angrily. “Put this stupid ass back in the box,” he instructed to one of the other men.
Maggie pleaded and begged for forgiveness as she was hauled over to the closet. She dropped into the bottom of the box like a brick. Quickly the door was closed, and the deadbolt was thrown. Disoriented and in pain, Maggie slumped against the rough wood. She began to hum the tune of “Itsy Bitsy Spider.” She didn’t know why, but it made her feel better. After that, her imprisonment went on for over two more weeks. She came out once a day for the three rituals. She was told over and again that she was eighteen years old, and if she ever told anyone who she really was, they would kill her and Seth.
“We know where your parents live, too,” Armando lied. “Don’t think we won’t torture and kill them if you ever tell anyone who you are.”
At the end of the third week, the small door opened, and Maggie started to cry. A bright flashlight was aimed at her face, and she recoiled from the painful beam of light. “How you doin’, baby?” a man cooed. “Don’t worry; I’m gonna help ya now.”
Maggie was too distressed, and tired, to be relieved. She hoped that by “helping her,” the man meant he would shoot her in the head.
“Come on, baby. Give me your hands,” the man said softly.
With great effort, Maggie raised her hands into the air. The man pulled her out and gently laid her on the mattress. He bent and picked up a ratty blanket from the floor and covered her with it. Then he sat on the side of the bed and stroked her hair.
“Trinity,” he said in a calm voice. “Bring me a glass of water for our Maggie.”
He held the glass as Maggie took small sips of water. Maggie grimaced when she tried to open her eyes for the first time; the light was too painful to handle. Finally, with much effort, she opened her eyes. There, sitting next to her, was Rock.
She flinched.
Rock leaned closer to her. “No, baby, it’s OK. Rock is here to take care of you now,” he assured her.
Rock instructed Trinity to fill the bathtub with warm water. Then he gingerly carried Maggie into the bathroom and placed her in the tub. The heat of the water began to soften her stiffened muscles. Rock massaged her arms and legs. She let herself relax with his powerful, gentle hands rubbing away weeks of being cramped at the bottom of the box.
“Go make somethin’ nice for Maggie to eat,” he told Trinity.
As he rubbed Maggie’s neck, he looked into her face. Her eyes smoldered with intensity. Rock was the first person in three weeks to show Maggie any compassion, and this tactic made her love him. Maggie felt her belly flutter as she watched him intently. She opened her arms, and he leaned over and hugged her close to him. “That’s it, baby. Rock is here to take care of you now. Do you know how old you are?”
“I’m eighteen,” she answered, wanting to please him.
“How did you get here?” he continued.
“I came here on my own. I love it here,” she recited.
“Where do you live, baby?” he asked in a sultry voice.
“With my boyfriend,” she said affectionately.
“Who is that, baby? Who is your boyfriend?” he sang.
“Armando is my boyfriend,” she said with a pang of guilt, as if she was betraying Rock.
Rock saw that all-too-familiar look. “That’s right, baby. But, me, I’m the one you really love,” he said sweetly.
“Yes,” Maggie agreed.
Rock was proud to have wrecked another girl, especially one as gorgeous as Maggie was. He was delighted to think of all the money she would make for him. But Rock wasn’t aware of Maggie’s ability to persevere through the most hideous circumstances.
Chapter Forty-Four
After Maggie had a few days of rest, Armando told her that she would start working the next night. “Trinity is gonna take ya out and get ya started. She’s gonna teach ya how to lure men in and how much money you should get.”
Maggie, no longer willing to argue, nodded. “Sure, Armando, whatever you want.”
Armando smiled to himself. Another bitch wrecked, he thought. This is just too easy.
Maggie knew that everything happening to her under Armando and Rock’s control was just as wrong as all the things John William and Myles had done to her. She also knew that Thelma had Seth at her home, and suspected that Armando would keep true to his word and kill the boy if she didn’t do everything he told her to do. She had been having sex against her will since she was kidnapped. She hated every minute of it, but over time, she’d come to accept it as a way of life. It’s just what she did, she told herself. It was not who she was.
That night, on Kensington Avenue under the train tracks of the El, Maggie realized that being a streetwalker wasn’t easy. They stood in the cold in high heels and short skirts. They were forced to flirt and smile at all the scum-sucking maggots who happened to look their way. Maggie was intrigued by the prostitutes who fought over customers, and she gawked at the strung-out drug addicts who oozed onto the streets from small alleys with nothing on their minds but the next fix.
“OK, this guy walking toward us. He’s a regular. I want ya to smile at him really pretty and ask if he wants to go on a date. Understand?” Trinity pressed.
As the man approached, Maggie plastered a fake smile on her face. “Hello, sir. Would you like to go on a date?”
“Ha! What’s with the sir shit? Trin, who ya got here, Mary fucking Poppins?” the scuzzy man yapped. “Sure, honey, I’ll go on a date wit’ cha.”
“What are ya lookin’ for?” Trinity asked him.
“With this little hottie? How much for a regular?” he asked.
“We got a special tonight since she’s new and all. Fifty bucks,” Trinity said confidently. “Ya know that’s a fuckin’ steal, too. Just look
at her.”
The man rubbed his chin and took a long visual drink of Maggie. “Yeah, OK. But she better be good for that kind of money.”
“Yeah, she’ll be good,” Trinity promised.
Trinity leaned into Maggie. “Take him back into the weeds in that open lot. Keep walking ’til you see a small path on your left. Follow the path and you’ll see a mattress. Make sure he uses a condom; we don’t need no pregnant bitches ’round here. Do him and get back here fast.”
Walking through the tall weeds with the stranger, Maggie realized that this was the first time since John William had kidnapped her that she was roaming free. Little did she know that Armando was watching her every move after she left Trinity’s side. They never let new girls go off on their own for the first couple of months, not until they could be trusted.
Once they reached the mattress, Maggie turned and looked at the man, waiting for instructions. “What the fuck are you looking at? Let’s go; get undressed,” he told her.
Maggie quickly undressed, shivering in the cold night air, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. “You’re kiddin’ me, right? What the fuck are you waiting for? Lay down on the damn mattress,” he said, losing his patience with her inexperience.
He stood over her and quickly slipped on a condom. The cartel also required the men to wear condoms, but only to keep their property disease free.
“You’re sure a beauty,” the john panted, once he was on top of her.
When he finished, he stood quickly, took out fifty dollars, and threw it at her. By the time she got back out on Kensington Avenue, Trinity had another customer waiting for her. “Give me the money,” Trinity stated. “Take this next guy back. He wants a blow job. Make sure you get twenty-five bucks when you’re done.”
Maggie’s first night was horrid. She serviced someone every forty-five minutes. She’d done all the same things with men during her captivity, but here, in the open, she felt like a creepy-crawly bug in the night. When it was time to go back to the house, Armando came to walk with her.