by Paige Dearth
“Please, Armando. At least tell me what I did,” Maggie pleaded.
“It’s not what cha did, ya stupid little freak. It’s what ya didn’t do. Little Maggie doesn’t get in cars with her tricks. Ring any bells?” he sneered.
“I’m sorry, Armando. It’s just that when I was taken, the man who kidnapped me put me in a van, and now I’m scared to get into cars with people I don’t know,” she said, hoping to avoid punishment.
Armando started laughing. A first it was a giggle, but then it turned into a full belly laugh. His reaction led Maggie to believe that maybe he understood her dilemma. But then his laughter took on a sinister growl, which eventually became the dominant sound, Maggie knew she was fucked.
“Oh boy,” he yelled, as his laughter waned. “That’s a good one. Now take off your fuckin’ clothes before I tear them off myself.”
Maggie quickly undressed and stood before him naked.
“Come on,” he said and headed for the closest.
“Oh no, Armando. Oh, please don’t put me in the box. Please. I’ll try to do better,” she promised.
“Bitch, please. Ya ain’t gonna try to do nothin’ better. If I ever decide to let you outta there, you’re gonna do every damn thing I tell ya to. This ain’t no negotiation, you idiot,” he spewed ruthlessly.
In the closet, Armando unlocked the box. “You getting in yourself or do you need me to throw you in there?” he half asked.
Trembling, Maggie sat on the edge of the vertical box; slowly, she slid herself into it until her bare feet hit the bottom. Then she squatted into a ball.
“I’ll see ya when I see ya,” Armando said with a big grin on his face.
As Maggie sat, cramped at the bottom of the wooden box, she knew this was only the beginning of her punishment.
Chapter Sixty-Six
A day later, the box opened, and Maggie, who was sore and exhausted, looked up.
“Let’s go. Give me your hands,” Armando instructed.
With effort, Maggie raised her hands above her head and struggled to stand. Armando hoisted her out as if she was weightless. In the bedroom, she stood, but was unable to extend her body upright.
“I’m sorry, Armando,” she cried, fearing what was to happen next.
“No, you ain’t sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done what cha did in the first place,” he snapped.
Armando unbuckled his belt and slowly removed it from his waist, purposely making time drag on. It was all about breaking her down so she wouldn’t dare disobey him again. The first lash landed across the front of her thighs. Each lash that followed was harder and left her aching. After several minutes and, with Maggie huddled on the floor, he walked over and opened the bedroom door.
Trinity and two other hookers walked into the room. Armando handed the belt to Trinity first. With great excitement, Trinity began swinging the belt at Maggie. Each thrash landed in a different place on her body. Maggie looked at her for pity, but Trinity’s expression only showed disdain and the need for vengeance.
“All right, ’nuff,” Armando told her.
Maggie’s body felt as if she’d been stung by a million hornets. It’s over, she thought. But then Armando handed the belt to the second hooker, and when she finished, the last hooker took her turn at “taming the beast,” as Armando called it.
When it was all over, Maggie was unable to stand or move any part of her body. Armando grabbed her under the arms and took her back to the closet.
“I think ya need a little more time to figure out who the boss is ’round here,” he taunted.
He slid Maggie into the box. Her legs folded under her, further irritating the fresh, pulsating welts. Maggie cried, not so much from the pain in her skin, but the pain in her broken heart. As her sobs became deeper and she let her emotions go, she felt as if all of her blood was circulating around her brain and her head was going to burst open. When she finally stopped crying, she sat in a heap at the bottom of the vertical box and waited.
The next day, Armando came back and pulled Maggie from her prison. As she emerged from the box, its rough wooden sides scraped her exposed skin. It felt as if she was being massaged with sandpaper. When she was back in the bedroom, Armando propped her up on an old chair in the corner.
“Don’t move a muscle,” he told her, as he walked out of the bedroom to execute Rock’s other idea.
Maggie was too weak to move anyway. She could barely hold her head up. When the bedroom door opened again, Armando shoved Seth into the room. He walked in behind the young boy, who was already crying and shaking. Behind Armando, the three hookers followed.
“Aggie!” Seth screamed and ran to her.
But before Seth could reach Maggie, Armando grabbed a handful of hair from the back of his head, bringing the boy to an immediate halt. Seth cried harder and reached up for Armando’s hand to try and pry himself free, but Armando pushed the child full force into a table next to the bed.
Armando proceeded to slap Seth repeatedly. As Maggie looked on helplessly, her blood started pumping through her battered body, and soon her pain was replaced with high-voltage energy she couldn’t control.
“Just leave him alone! He’s only a little boy!” Maggie screamed. Then she turned to Trinity and the other two hookers. “Stop him. What’s wrong with you?” she shouted, with judgment dripping from her words.
For the briefest moment, Maggie saw what she believed to be sympathy on Trinity’s face as she watched Seth get a beating. Then Armando turned to the three girls and told them to “let loose.”
Trinity hesitated, but Armando pulled her forward. “What’s wrong wit’ cha, bitch? You was liking it when you were beating on Maggie. Now unless you want to switch places with her, you’ll do what I tell ya,” he threatened.
Trinity turned to Maggie with a sorrowful look before she landed the first kick into Seth’s back. The girls each took their turns, doing as they were told, knowing the dire consequences of not following orders. After many minutes, Armando told the girls to leave the room.
Seth was lying on the floor, whimpering and barely able to move. It was too much for his tiny body to take. Armando grabbed him up from the floor and threw him onto the bed. He pulled a switchblade from his pocket, and the shiny blade sprang to life. Armando put the knife to Seth’s neck. Maggie looked on, helpless and full of self-loathing because her fear of getting into cars with strange men had cost the person she loved most his life.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Armando glared at her, the blade pressing into Seth’s throat as his eyes bugged out with paralyzing terror. Armando pressed harder, and the sharp blade drew blood to the surface of Seth’s neck.
“I can kill him right now. Ain’t nobody gonna miss his scrawny white ass. Nobody but you, that is. What cha think I should do? Now let’s see, should I kill him or let him live? That’s the real question. And the answer, well, that all depends on you,” he said slowly, adding to Maggie’s dread.
“I’ll do it, Armando. I don’t care. I won’t ever lie to you again. I’ll get into cars. I don’t care what happens to me. Please just leave Seth alone. Pleeease,” she begged.
“Well, now, here’s how it’s gonna work. If I let this useless piece of shit live, you’re gonna do whatever I want you to. If I ever hear that ya lied to me again, I will kill your sweet lil boy here,” he stated with utter certainty.
“OK, OK,” Maggie wailed, unwilling to lose the only family she had left. “I swear. I’ll do whatever you want, and I’ll never lie to you again.”
“Good. Now get your ass into the shower. Then you can have something to eat. You’re back out there tonight. In fact, I’m gonna go wit’ cha just to be sure you do as you promise,” he mocked.
Running purely on adrenaline, Maggie stood and walked into the bathroom. She turned back to Seth from the door. “I love you,” she said genuinely.
Seth met her eyes. “I love you too, Aggie,” he said, between chest-pulling sobs.
Ma
ggie watched as Armando pulled Seth off the bed and led him out of the bedroom. As Maggie turned on the shower, she wondered, how did Armando find out about me not getting into cars? The only one who knew was Juju. Oh my God, Juju!
Chapter Sixty-Eight
That night, Armando trailed ten feet behind Maggie on Kensington Avenue as she faced her greatest fear. When her fourth customer pulled up to the curb, Maggie leaned into the car.
“How much for regular?” the seedy young man asked.
When Maggie told him the price, he said, “Get in.”
Maggie reached for the door handle, and it felt as though the metal was burning through her flesh. She looked over her shoulder and saw Armando watching her intently. She flashed back to what he had done to Seth, and with courage she didn’t know that she had, Maggie pulled the door open. Every muscle and nerve in her body twitched as fright clamped down on her senses.
“Are you getting in or what? I don’t have all night,” the john said. “Let’s go!”
Overwhelmed by a sudden urge to run away, Maggie looked back at Armando just as he started to walk toward her. She took a deep breath, held it, and slid into the passenger seat of the car. As the man pulled away, she looked out her window. Everything was a blur, and she was sweating profusely. The man reached over and put his hand on her inner thigh. His fingers felt like daggers on her skin, and she flinched.
“Oh, you wanna play hard to get, huh? That’s good. That’s very good. I like games.” He pulled into an abandoned lot. “Come on; let’s get into the backseat,” he told Maggie.
Maggie reached for the door handle, but it was missing. Panic rose in her gorge, but she focused on Seth. Don’t freak out, she told herself, Seth needs you to be brave.
Maggie looked over at the stranger who was watching her with a slimy smile. “That’s been broken for a while. Doesn’t matter, though. I want you to climb over the seat. That way I can get a look at that sweet ass of yours,” he stated in a disturbingly perverted voice.
As Maggie hoisted herself over the front seat, she spotted door handles on both rear doors. Her anxiety subsided slightly. At least there was a way out of the car. Then she imagined that Armando had followed them to make sure she did what she’d promised. This thought allowed her to relax. If Armando is watching, he’ll never let this low-life pig steal me, she decided.
Maggie’s john had reached up her short skirt as she was climbing into the back. Her senses fully awake, she was repulsed by his touch and by the things she was doing. It was as if curtains had opened and she was peering into the window of her life since she’d been taken. The reality rocked her to the core. Instead of giving into her fear and disgust, Maggie grew stronger, fiercer, and made up her mind that she was going to find a way out. She didn’t know when, and she couldn’t conceive of how, but she believed that a way out would come to her.
As the man slid on top of her and mauled her, Maggie lay lifelessly, unwilling to participate. She didn’t care what he wanted from her. She no longer cared what any of the men wanted from her. Maggie decided that very night that she would take her life back. This potent thought calmed her. She felt powerful as the belief took root in her heart.
When the slob finished, he drove her back to Kensington Avenue. He stopped next to the curb, close to where he had picked her up. She was no longer a naïve girl.
She turned to the slime ball. “Give me my money,” she stated in a hard voice.
The man handed Maggie the cash, and she floated out of the car. Armando watched, realizing that something about her had drastically changed; it was visible. Her demeanor and strut made him uneasy. He didn’t understand the depth of agony Maggie had suffered at the hands of the sex traffickers. Therefore, Armando could never grasp the strength of her will to emancipate herself from the physical and mental slavery that had been consuming her.
Maggie had finally left the kidnapped child behind her. In less than an hour, in a moment of clarity, she’d become a woman who wouldn’t quit. As she swaggered down the street with her head held high, she remembered what Cali had said right before they drowned her: you are the one among us who will survive. Her fearlessness grew with each deliberate step. People who had seen her on the streets before now watched a woman on a mission.
Maggie was no longer afraid of the monsters who had been weighing her down; she was going on the greatest journey of her life. Destination: freedom.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
“What the hell did you do, Juju?” Maggie accused.
“Well, good morning to you, too. What’s your problem? Where have you been?” Juju asked, still trying to wake up.
“Oh, good you noticed I haven’t been around for several days. Let’s see, I was in the vertical box for a couple of days. Had the shit beat out of me by Armando and some of those whore bitches of his. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, they brought Seth over to the house of whores and they beat the shit out of him in front of me. Threatened to slit his throat. And do you want to know why?” she asked, feeling betrayed by her only friend.
“Why?” Juju asked quietly, unnerved by Maggie’s sudden aggression toward her.
“Because Armando mysteriously found out that I wouldn’t get into cars with johns. Now let’s see, since you’re the only person I’ve ever told, I guess you’re the one who told Armando. Or was it Rock?” Maggie accused.
Maggie didn’t trust Juju anymore. She wanted her to know the pain she’d caused by opening her big pie hole and revealing Maggie’s secret.
“What? No, I didn’t tell either of them anything about you. Maggie, I would never do that to you,” she pleaded.
The two girls stood staring at each other. Their eyes were locked, and Juju could tell that Maggie was different. She wasn’t the same person. Juju quickly thought about what she’d done since she last saw Maggie. Then, like a bat out of hell, it came to her: I must’ve told the guys at the park when I was drunk. Oh, fuck me! I’ve screwed the only person I love, she thought with remorse.
“Maggie, please just sit down for a minute,” Juju started. “I think I know what happened. I was at Needle Park on Thanksgiving. I was drunk, really drunk. Somehow, I must have said something about you to the guys.” Juju’s head dropped, and she put her hands up to cover her face. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m so sorry. I would never do anything to hurt you or Seth. You know that, don’t you?” she asked, desperate not to lose Maggie.
Maggie could see the honesty and anguish in her friend. She began to soften. “Well, it was a really stupid mistake. You have no idea how horrible they were to Seth and me,” she persisted, her anger fizzling out.
“No, I don’t. The only thing I know is that I wish I could go back in time. I wouldn’t have gotten so drunk. You have to believe me. I never tried to hurt you,” Juju wailed.
Maggie sat and watched her friend break down right before her eyes. Juju’s suffering gave her no pleasure. In fact, it made her feel protective. Then she thought about the night Armando put her out in the snow and the way Juju had carried her inside and taken care of her. Maggie realized that Juju had made a huge mistake, a mistake that could have been fatal for Seth and her. She walked over to Juju and put her hands on her shoulders.
“OK, Juju. It’s going to be OK,” Maggie assured her, softening at the sincerity of Juju’s regret. “We all do shit we shouldn’t do. But do me a favor?” Maggie asked.
“What’s that?” Juju croaked.
“Don’t get drunk anymore. And if you do decide to get drunk, make sure I’m with you to keep you from getting me in anymore trouble,” she said, brushing the hair back from Juju’s face.
Juju reached for Maggie and held her tightly.
“Thank you for believing me. I don’t know what I’d do if anything bad ever happened to you. Before I met you, I was alone. I haven’t had anyone in my life who has truly loved me. You’re the first,” Juju confessed.
Maggie realized how much the two girls had in common. While their backgrounds were different, t
heir hopes were the same…to have people in their lives who truly loved them.
It wouldn’t be long before Maggie learned just how much Juju loved her.
Chapter Seventy
The next day, Maggie and Juju met Seth on his walk to school. The long weekend was behind him, and his angst was apparent as he walked toward them.
“Hey, Seth,” Maggie sang, as she bent down and cradled him in her arms.
“Hi, Aggie,” he said, sniffling.
“What’s wrong, little man?” Juju asked, poking him.
“Nothin’,” Seth replied.
Clearly, Seth had a difficult weekend. After he was beaten in front of Maggie, Rock took him home. Seth didn’t go into much detail about the cruelty Thelma showered upon him over the Thanksgiving break.
“I’m sorry they hurt you, Seth. I’m not going to let that happen again. Are you OK?” Maggie said, thinking of the beating he’d endured.
Seth nodded. “I’m OK,” he gasped, as tears streaked his dirty cheeks.
“Did you have turkey for Thanksgiving?” Maggie asked cautiously.
“Uh-huh. Thelma put turkey in the dog bowl for me,” he said, embarrassed.
Maggie’s insides were twisted, and she used all of her self-control to hide her festering fury towards Rock and Thelma. “Thelma sucks, Seth,” Maggie said with resolve. “Forget about her. Do you know what today is?”
Seth shook his head without enthusiasm.
“Today is your birthday. December 3. You’re eight years old today.”
Maggie took a broken crayon and a used piece of paper from his bag. She wrote 12/3.
“See, 12 is for the twelfth month of the year, December. And 3 is for the third day. Now, look at it closely. Do you see it?” she asked.
“One, two, three?” he said, afraid of looking stupid.
“Exactly. Twelve three. December 3. One, two, three. Isn’t that great?” she gushed.