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Minutes later, the door is locked again, and the woman who was begging begins to cry hysterically.
Walking to the window, I look outside, trying to see where we are. It’s night again, but my eyes widen when I can make out a dock and various types of boats.
We’re not at sea anymore.
I keep standing by the window until I notice it’s starting to get light outside. When it feels like hours are passing with no one coming to the room, I sink down to the floor and pull my knees up to my chest.
Surely, they won’t keep us here for much longer?
None of the women are talking to each other, and when the silence starts getting to me, I say, “My name is Eden. What’s yours?”
The one who was crying hysterically whispers, “I’m Milania.”
The other three remain quiet, making me think they’re traumatized out of their minds.
“Hi, Milania.” I try to offer her a smile. “How did you get on the boat?”
“I was told there was work in New York. I paid two hundred and fifty dollars, and when I was picked up in Miami, I was brought here. That was many days ago. They keep drugging us.”
“It’s so we’ll fuck for drugs,” the one with the blank stare suddenly murmurs in a monotonous tone.
Glancing down at the two bruises on my arm, I gently rub my fingers over them.
There’s no way I’ll get addicted. I’m not Mandy.
I lift my head, and climbing back to my feet, I look out the window again, but it’s quiet on the part of the dock I can see.
I wrap my arms around myself, and as the reality of my dire situation really sets in, destructive emotions fill my chest.
What does Dario think happened to me?
Poor Tyrone. He must be beside himself with worry.
I hope Quincy survived.
I suck in a shaky breath as my eyes start to blur with unshed tears.
I’m not going to let them turn me into a junkie who’ll do anything for a hit.
I refuse.
I’d rather die.
None of my tears fall as I keep staring out the small window.
After a while, I sit down again and hug my knees to my chest. The cold is getting to me. It feels as if it's creeping into my very bones.
I struggle to process the hopeless emotions and to come up with a plan. But what can I do? Just like the other four women, I’m stuck. I have nothing I can use as a weapon.
A hell of a lot of time passes where nothing happens, and it starts driving me crazy.
Freezing my ass off, I climb to my feet and start to jog on the place so I can try and warm up a little.
“I’m scared,” Milania whispers. A sob sputters from her, and she starts to cry.
The exercise isn’t helping shit, and stopping, I walk to Milania’s side and sit down beside her. Lifting my arm, I wrap it around her.
I’m also scared.
