I quickly try to escape their grasps but my body is too weak to fight. My breathing spikes as Trish approaches me with the needle in hand.
I beg, “Trish, don’t.”
Trish hushes me, “This will ease your pain and keep you sedated. We can’t have you running out of here.”
The needle stabs into my arm and I wince at the slight pinch. Once the injection in complete, she removes the needle and gives it to one of the girls holding me. Trish then wraps my good arm around her neck and leads me into the hallway.
A few seconds later, my head begins to spin and everything becomes blurry. My body feels light and the pain is completely gone. I can’t even feel my legs; everything is mush. My head bobs as I struggle to keep it upright. With my eyes growing heavier by the second, my focus is no longer clear. Everything around me goes white as Trish’s whispers fade away.
For the next two weeks, Trish shows me how to survive. I learn the process of the bidding for girls and what the highest bidder usually requires. She brings me more clothes and teaches me the proper dress code—a short mini that shows my legs, a low cut sleeveless blouse, and stilettos to attract the right attention.
My shoulder is almost healed, surprisingly. In the past two weeks, she’s visited me every day and took care of my wounds. She even helped me bathe and fed me while I was too weak to move. I haven’t seen Layla, which worries me, but Trish says she’s fine. I don’t believe her since she’s Derrick’s pet, but I can’t help but hold on to hope.
Some days, I hope Layla found a way out and she went to the authorities. I catch myself thinking that maybe I’ll get out of this hell hole. But who am I kidding? No one will probably even notice I’m gone. Everyone that matters to me is in another state.
Derrick and his men haven’t visited me, either. Trish said it’s because I need to prepare for my first auction. I’ve seen them lurking through the dark corridors, but no one’s approached me or even spoken to me. At times, once I felt I had my strength back, I wanted to fight my way out, but then Layla’s life would be in danger, so I’ve always stopped myself from busting out of here.
As I think about the possibilities of what’s next, Trish enters my room, carrying a basket full of items. She places them on the dresser and heads back into the hallway, only to return with another basket.
Walking over to the dresser, I pick out a few items from the basket—a new comforter, candles, body oils, towels, and wash cloths. I peek into the second basket and it’s filled with new clothing.
I turn to Trish, “What’s all this for?”
“Tonight is your first auction. I need to liven up your room and you need to get ready. We have to make you look absolutely exquisite so everyone will want to bid on you.”
My body starts to immediately tremble, “Tonight? I thought I had more time.”
She shakes her head and walks over to my mattress to change the sheets. “Derrick wants you up there tonight. He says you’re ready. Honestly he just wants to show off his new prize.”
My breath catches and my lungs constrict with nerves, “I don’t think I can do this.”
I lean up against the dresser to steady my balance. There’s a small mirror in the basket and I look at my own reflection. It’s been weeks since I’ve looked at myself. What I see is a stranger staring at me. Her face is slender with full, pouty lips and stunning blue eyes, but her smile is hidden. Her eyes speak grief and hopelessness. I see tears fill her eyes and rain down her silky cheeks. A slight bruise around her left eye is shadowed in the reflection and I reach up to touch it.
I see another bruise around my neck as I look closely. It’s an imprint of hands. I wince at the sudden touch and have the urge to launch the small mirror across the room. Trish walks up behind me and releases the mirror from my grasp.
“Relax, Raya. You need to behave tonight or you won’t live to see another.”
She reaches deeper into the basket and pulls out two small pills and a bottle of water.
She offers them to me, “Here, take these. They will help you relax.”
I take the pills from her hand, swallow them, and wash them down with water. Trish finishes tidying up the room as I sit on the bed and prepare myself for tonight.
For the next few hours, Trish does my hair, makeup, and dresses me up like a doll. I see her determined face tighten as she concentrates on making me look desirable. Her hands work quickly and I have the feeling she’s running out of time. She applies blush across my high cheekbones and dabs the last bit of gloss on my lips. Hurrying over to the dresser to grab a pair of red heels, she rushes back to me. I bend down to slip into them and stand up. I wobble as I get used to the height and Trish steadies my balance. She smiles at me, admiring her work of art.
She reaches to grab the small mirror and offers it to me, “Do you want to see?”
I glance at my reflection and gasp, “Whoa, I look…different.”
She huffs, “I know, you’ll have to get used to it, but this is what Derrick wants.”
Heavy black eyeliner outlines the shape of my eyes. A dark blue eye shadow accents my eyelids all the way up to my eyebrows. The bruise around my eyes is completely hidden with the help of a mousse foundation and concealer. Black mascara heightens the length of my eyelashes, providing an extension I never thought was possible. My lips are a bright red outlined with a darker shade of red to accent their fullness. My long, dark hair is pinned up, allowing a few strands to curl against the side of my face.
I glance down at my outfit and see a brick red corset wrapped around my chest with black leather buckles strapped across the front of it. A black leather mini skirt shows off my smooth legs and the matching red heels accentuate the outfit. I look away and hold back the tears. This is what I’ve become; someone’s whore.
Trish grabs a set of ropes, “I need to tie your wrists up. Please don’t make this any harder than it is.”
I offer my wrists to her and she ties them tightly together, preventing any chance of me getting out of them. Once she’s done, she pulls me in for a hug. I breathe deeply to try and relax but what’s the point? She caresses my back and kisses my cheek.
“Are you ready?”
Before I can answer, a loud pounding against the door startles us both. One of Derrick’s men barges in and stalks up to me, grabs my wrist, and pulls me out of the room.
Trish blocks his exit, “West, you’re early! What the hell? I haven’t prepared her.”
West grunts, “She’ll have to figure it out. Derrick wants her up there now.” He yanks me out of the room and into the dark hallway.
I hear Trish yell from behind me, “Remember to behave!”
As I’m pulled through the dark corridors, I see other men gathering more girls. I look around to find Layla but can’t find her. I pray that tonight is not her auction night. Tripping and stumbling, I almost fall against the hard floor, but I’m caught.
West seethes, “Watch where you’re going!”
I snarl back, “I would if you weren’t pulling so hard! It’s your fault I almost fell!”
He growls and continues to guide me through the halls and to the set of stairs that nearly provided my escape.
“Where are we going?”
He ignores my question and hauls me over his shoulder. I cry out in protest and start to punch his back. He continues up the stairs, arriving at the kitchen.
He pulls me off his shoulder and stands me up against him and looks deep into my eyes, “Don’t make a sound. You won’t live through the auction if you’re not quiet. Do you understand me?”
I nod in response as my entire body begins to tremble and my heart pounds against my chest. The panting of my breaths grows faster and louder as we make our way out of the kitchen and into a foyer. Glancing around, I realize this is no ordinary house; it’s absolutely huge. The décor is modern contemporary with a hint of traditional styles mixed in. West guides me down several hallways and through a couple of roo
ms.
As we walk further, I hear muffled sounds approach us. West leads me inside a small room already filled with girls, all dolled up for the auction. I glance around to see if I can find Layla but she’s not here with us. Including me, there are ten girls up for auction tonight. Each of us have our wrists bound by rope and I notice the girls are sitting calmly, without a care in the world.
West twists me around to face him, “Open your mouth.”
I refuse, “For what?”
His agitation seeps through his sigh, “Raya, listen to me. Just open your mouth. You need to.”
I remember what Trish said and follow his directions, opening my mouth. West drops a small blue pill inside and instructs me to swallow it. He then reaches down to my hands and squeezes them. I look at him briefly and catch him smiling softly at me. Realizing he’s been caught, he lets go of me and immediately stalks out of the room.
I walk over and sit in an empty seat and try to relax. All of the other girls are quiet as well, just waiting for the auction to start. A few minutes later, Derrick enters the room. My anger instantly rushes back into me and all I see is red. He glances over at me and winks. I hate that man. He calls the first girl to follow him out into the hallway and I hear a group of men yelling and cheering from the other side of the wall.
My head becomes tingly as my mouth quickly turns dry. I blink my eyes to regain focus, but as I open them again, everything is moving slowly. All of a sudden, I feel like a weight is lifted off my body and I don’t have a care in the world. I feel loose, light-headed, and content with what I have. I feel like I’m in a dream-like state and can’t think of anything to worry me.
Next thing I know, I’m being taken into another room filled with about five or six men. I glance up to see Derrick guiding me through the room. Everything is blurry and the men are moving extremely slow. I feel my legs wobble as Derrick leads me to the front of the gathering. He straps my tied wrists around a post at the front of the room and starts to spit out a stream of numbers. My body sways as I try to focus on what’s happening. I hear a few men shout, “five thousand”, “seven thousand”, and the next shouts, “ten thousand.” Derrick yells out in approval and the man who shouted ten thousand cheers. Derrick grabs hold of me and yanks me out of the room and back into the hallway. As I let him lead me, West stares at us from a distance. His eyes are dark with a hint of anger and his fists clinch. I blink my eyes to allow them to readjust, and when I open them, West is gone.
Derrick leads me to a bedroom and pulls me inside, shutting the door behind him. He unties my wrists and picks me up, laying me on the bed. He bends down to kiss my neck and inhales my scent.
He looks up at me and smiles, “Angel, you are mine. Never forget that.”
He stands up and walks out of the room, locking the door. I glance around the room and see a mix of straps, whips, chains, and ropes resting against the dresser. Daring to get up and walk over to the dresser, I open a drawer and see a cluster of plugs and toys. My stomach churns as I pick up a plug and inspect it. I breathe out loud and pray I have the strength to go through with this.
Putting the plug away, I close the drawer and walk over to the window. I glance into the night sky and the Chicago skyline in the distance. Tears fall freely from my eyes as I rest my hand on the glass. Freedom is so close yet so far away. A few seconds later, a short, bald man enters the room and shuts the door.
He pulls me away from the window and guides me to the bed. He rubs his hand along my cheek and begins to unbuckle my corset. Once he slides it off and sees a black lace bra underneath, his eyes grow wide with excitement as he kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his jeans. My skirt is wiggled off my body, but my heels stay on. Laying me down on the bed, he’s kissing my neck, shoulders, and chest as his cold hands run down my side and across my upper thighs. Taking a moment to climb on top of me, he maneuvers my arms above my head in order to angle my chest toward his face. A sharp pain radiates from my nipple as he bites down through my bra and I sense him getting hard against my thigh.
As he struggles out of his underwear and maneuvers himself into position, I close my eyes and let the numbness enter and consume my soul. As he begins to enter me, I tune everything out and become almost comatose because this is the only way I can get through this. To shut everything off and become completely frozen and lethargic is the only defense I have left. I no longer have the will to fight and live, because in the end, I’ve lost. This is my life.
Duke
Using my iPod, I select Nickelback Radio on Pandora and instantly the song, Far Away starts to play. Of course, this song plays. I have the urge to skip this song, but decide to keep it on as I grab my earphones and plug them in my ears. I head downstairs and out the door for my morning run. As the song plays, I immediately think of her. It’s been three years since her disappearance and I still think about her every day.
My feet slap the concrete as I jog throughout the neighborhood and flashes of her smile appear before me. I picture her dancing along to the song as her body sways to the rhythm. Her long, wavy hair blows in the wind and her beautiful laugh echoes, filling my soul with love.
The thought of her causes the ache to return but I won’t shut them out. The constant ache and turmoil keeps me grounded and determined to find her. I won’t stop looking for her. I will not break my promise to her. I can’t give up. I won’t give up.
I continue my morning run as songs of hope and love fill my ears, bringing her back to me. I make my way toward Pelham Bay Park and decide to run the track, focusing on the finish line as I run in a cross country fashion. Steadying my pace and focusing on my breathing, I run and run for the next thirty minutes. Sweat beads down my face but I keep on going. Determination flows through my body as I set my eyes on the target.
Building up my stamina and exercising my frustration are what keep me centered on the important things—they help me to maintain a sharp focus to the point of no return. All I care about is finding her and keeping her safe. As I run along the tracks, drops of rain fall from the darkened sky. I taper down to a slower pace and glance up at the sky. Shit, it’s about to start pouring.
I hastily make my way out of the park just as it begins to pour. Deciding to take the short cut, I turn the next corner and stop dead in my tracks. A moving truck is parked outside of her old home as movers quickly take furniture into the house. I make my way to the house and remember the last night I was here.
My body cringes as memories from prom night rush back into my mind. I can hear her screams fade into my mind and I try to calm myself down. Breathing in and out, I look around to see if anything has changed. The front door is completely new and the outside has a new coat of paint.
As I look around, someone clears their throat. I spin around to find the new owners staring at me.
The man asks, “Can I help you?”
I laugh shyly, “Sorry, I knew the previous owner and it just brought back a few memories, that’s all.”
The woman walks up to me, “Oh, you did? Do you know where they moved? I found a box full of stuff in one of the upstairs bedrooms. It must have been missed.”
My brow arches, “A box? What was in it?”
She shrugs her shoulders, “It’s filled with a few male clothing items and also some sheets of paper with writing on them. I actually read them and I think they were songs. Whoever wrote them was very talented. I even cried while reading one.”
Hmm, those must be Raya’s songs and her father’s old clothing.
I ask, “Is it possible I can have that box? I’m in the process of trying to locate her.”
The owners look at me puzzled, “Locate her? What happened here?”
I shake my head, “Look, I really don’t want to get into it and you should ask your realtor. Can I have the box? I would really like to have it.”
“Of course, come on in and I’ll get it for you. You shouldn’t be standing out here in the rain anyway.”
&
nbsp; The owners lead me into her home and I hesitantly step inside. Memories of Halloween, prom, and the day I found out about Craig seep into my mind. As I travel into the living room, I imagine her sitting on the sofa, talking to her mother. Her smile glows bright and melts my heart as I fall for her all over again.
A hand grasps my shoulder and I spin around to face the new man of the house.
He offers his hand to me, “Hi, my name is Alexander and this is my wife, Maggie.”
I shake his hand and shake Maggie’s as well while offering a small smile and letting out a deep breath.
“I’m Duke Grayson, nice to meet you. I apologize for my behavior, but being in this house has brought back some memories that I don’t want to recollect at the moment.”
Maggie gasps, “You’re Duke? You’re the one the songs are about.”
I stare at her, puzzled, “Songs? I didn’t know.”
She turns to head upstairs and tells me to follow her. She leads me into Raya’s old room and enters the closet, pulling out the box. She offers it to me and I take it from her.
“Here, she wrote about you. The songs are so emotional; like I said, they brought me to tears.”
I take a look inside the box and see a few shirts, probably her dad’s, and several notebooks. I grab a notebook and flip through it. As I flip, I see pages and pages littered with words. Skimming through a few, I read about fear, love, forgiveness, and most of all, hope.
As I read her words, it almost brings me to tears to finally get a glimpse inside her mind. I close the notebooks and thank Alexander and Maggie for passing them along to me. I grab the box and hurry home to read some more. For the next couple of hours, I scour through her notebooks, reading about her hopes and dreams. My name is in a few of her songs and I smile at her revelations of adoration toward me. Knowing that she felt the same way for me, too, brings a huge smile to my face.
Reading her words, I imagine her singing them to me. Her amazing voice reflects such poise and sophistication, but also unveils the natural talent that she possesses. I imagine staring at her crystal blue eyes and experience a whole new world around me. Her eyes express so many feelings and I hone in on them. Her angelic voice echoes throughout the room and warms my soul to its core.
Little Things Page 15