TW: Abuse, depression, suicidal thoughts

Robert stared longingly at Virginie. Her breathing was soft as she was curled up into a ball on her side of the bed. He had noticed that was the way she slept and he found it strange. Did she grow up with small beds or sleeping in small places? That wouldn't make sense for a rich girl such as herself.

His fingers lingered on the sheets as if he could carry their warmth on his journey. It had been such a dreamlike week. Virginie seemed to be warming up to him. She even let him put one arm around her as she slept now. She had never allowed that before without almost hitting him. In some ways, she reminded him of his girls.

He had called ahead of time to make sure everything was ready for him. The bed had to be clean and the girls had to be awake and ready. He didn't like to be kept waiting. He almost felt like he was betraying Virginie by going to do his job but this was something that he had to do.

It wasn't like he didn't enjoy it, he did. He liked seeing the girls break apart under his hands and completely submit themselves once they knew they had no other choice. He had to knock some sense into them or else the clients wouldn't want them. Then he wouldn't make money and would have to get rid of them.

He hated getting rid of them. It was so messy and required so much work. The guy who did the cleaning freaked him out and Robert hated calling him. He wished he could do it himself but by the time he finished with the bodies, he felt so dirty with all the blood that he just wanted to take a shower.

He walked out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen to exit through the door. At the bottom of the stairs was an idle car with the keys in the ignition, just waiting for him to drive it. It was a 2005 dark green Honda Civic. A common civilian car so he wouldn't stand out. He had requested this. He didn't like other people driving him when he went to do these things. They just got in the way. The fewer people involved, the better. Especially since he wasn't on his home turf.

As he drove away from the resort, his excitement grew. There was nothing that he loved more than breaking in new recruits. They were never more receptive than they were during the first time because after that they became increasingly numb and disassociated. They never screamed after the first time. They never writhed the same. Their fear was so wholesome and it was a rare delicacy to be able to crush it. He drank in every moment of it.

The Jamaican night was warm with light winds. Robert drove up the mountain with the window down, enjoying the sound of the waves crashing against the beach and the insects chirping in the night. The sounds reminded him of Puerto Rico.

As he pulled up to the location, he searched for Stephen. The hut that the girls were staying in was made of cement with large pieces of aluminum pushed up against the sides. It was surrounded by bushes and coconut trees. He tensed as he noticed that the door was open but there was no one to be found. Did the girls manage to overpower his associate? He stalled the car and walked towards the door carefully, taking his time with his steps. He didn't want the sound of his heavy feet to give him away to the enemy.

He peered into the dimly lit corridor, seeing Stephen sprawled out on the floor, his body riddled with bullets. His face was contorted in surprise. He hadn't seen the attack coming. He also saw a figure at the end of the hallway carrying a girl in their arms and the other was slung over their shoulder. The person wasn't showing an inch of skin. They were completely covered in black clothing with not even a strand of hair sticking out. He could see bright lights at the other end, signaling some escape vehicle.

How could they have known about this place? The only people who had knowledge about this operation were my associate and myself and I know neither of us said anything. I can't let these selfish bastards walk away with hundreds of thousands of dollars of merchandise.

With adrenaline flowing through him, he pulled out his CZ 75 pistol on the intruder. "Stop right there or I'll blow your head off along with the merchandise you're holding."

The person paused briefly as they pondered the situation. Robert wasn't sure whether they were a man or a woman. They had to be a man. He couldn't imagine a woman having the strength to hold two teenage girls so steadily.

"Take another step and the whole place blows," a voice announced, sounding like it was coming from the car. His eyes narrowed. The person who was holding his girls didn't want to show themselves, not even risking their voice as an identifier. Does that mean I know them?

Robert's eyes scanned the area, only now noticing the flashing lights on the walls and the wires that all led to a trap near his foot. With his heart racing, he placed his gun back in his pocket with his hands raised. He slowly stepped away from the trap, trying to make sure he didn't hit any other wires that could make the bomb go off.

"Is it money that you want?" He asked, putting on his most charming smile. "I can give you whatever sum that you want for the girls. Please, whatever it takes to keep them safe."

"Don't try to act noble," the voice from the car replied. "We know what you were planning to do with them, you sadistic freak. We will not take you today but your time of retribution is coming."

The person with the girls walked towards the light, their figure disappearing into the brightness. He gritted his teeth as he heard the car drive off and the lights disappear into the warm night.

"Fucking dammit!" He screamed, slamming his fist into the wall. The gravel cut into his knuckles, making his fingers bleed. He stared at his fingers as if his blood was a foreign concept. It was so long since he had seen his own. He was so used to seeing the blood of others. All that money and time wasted. Now he was going to have to call that scumbag of a cleaner to clean up the mess that Stephen made. He was glad that he was dead. If he allowed this to happen, he wouldn't be much use to him anyway.

Robert didn't even notice the blood dripping from his hands staining the walls of the crumbling building. All he could focus on was the lost product. He had never done this before. He wanted to make sure that it never happened again.

❦

Virginie laid uneasily in the bed that she shared with Robert. She took deep breaths and attempted to slow her racing heart. She had to calm down or else he would find her suspicious. He hadn't come straight home like Virginie expected. She knew that he would probably come back drunk from licking his wounds. He might even cheat on her but she didn't care. It wasn't like she actually loved or cared about him.

She was supposed to be fast asleep like she was when he left. She was a light sleeper but the Jamaican nightly sounds had helped her. The endless ocean waves that sounded like calm breaths and the orchestra of unknown insects were her own personal lullaby. She hadn't slept so soundly in her entire life.

The mission had been a smashing success. She had gotten the girls out of there and they were going back to their families. They weren't going to be sold and used as receptacles for men. She hadn't heard anything good about how Robert treated the girls. When she found them, they were barely conscious, drugged, and starved. They were afraid to let Virginie touch them but she was good at getting people to trust her.

But she hadn't realized how much being in that place was going to affect her. It brought back terrible memories. Ones that she dreamt about every night but was able to escape during the day.

But when they were dragging the girls out of the abandoned house, she had to kick herself to keep from dissociating. The memories were flooding her mind in waves like a tsunami and she nearly dropped the girls that she had been holding. Her reality and terrifying past began bleeding into one another, making it hard to discern which one was the present. As she was handing the girls over to the men in the van, she nearly passed out. She barely remembered making it home. She was lucky her body was used to going into autopilot or else she would've fallen scaling the wall up to their villa.

She knew that she was going to have some time before he came back so she screamed into her pillow until her lungs were sore. She wanted to call Colette but she knew that Colette would want her to be on the next flight home if she heard what was on her mind. She knew it wouldn't be smart to go to sleep but she had to. Her cover would be blown if she didn't and all the work she had done would go out the window. He wouldn't be able to kill her but the operation would have to run on without him.

For the first time all night, she smiled to herself. Robert, the sexist bastard, would assume that it was a man who had taken his girls, not a woman. She had that going for her at least. But even that thought couldn't slow her racing heart.

She hated using drugs but she needed to knock herself out. She didn't have any other option. That involved her staying alive, anyway.

She ran to her bag and quickly grabbed some Rozerem. With her hands rapidly shaking, she opened the bottle and shook it into her mouth, swallowing whatever pills fell in. If she died, she didn't care. She just wanted peace. She just wanted to sleep.

She didn't understand how she could feel so full of sorrow yet so hollow. She felt like if someone accidentally spilled a drop of water onto her skin, she would overflow and her emotions would be the end of her. But at the same time, she felt like her soul was like an empty well that no one could ever reach the bottom of. If someone sang from within her, their words would echo for years without end.

Virginie stumbled into the bed and closed her eyes, waiting for the darkness to swallow her. She hoped that it wouldn't come with the nightmares but that was wishful thinking.

☙

"Mommy!" The little girl screamed. She had been in sitting her dirty underwear for days, stumbling around the house, trying to find something to eat. She had been calling for her mother for hours. When it got dark, she crawled up with her teddy bear and tried to get warm until she fell asleep. Then she would wake up with the sun and do it all over again.

She would cry but she didn't have the energy. She was so hungry. She had been living off of Cheez-Its and saltines. She didn't want to touch anything in the fridge because her mother would get mad at her when she came back downstairs.

She hadn't been able to feel her hands for a while now. Mommy turned the heater off during the day and she didn't know how to turn it back on. She couldn't touch the stove because her mom said that it was too dangerous.

She didn't know what day it was. She didn't know how long it had been. Her father had left a while ago. He said he needed a breather. Being in this house was too much for him. He couldn't take care of them the way he wanted anymore. The kiss that he left on her forehead did not feel as warm as it usually did and it was quick; like he didn't want to mark her. Like he didn't want people to know that she was his.

Why had he left her alone? She was alone, alone, alone. Mommy had gone upstairs a long time ago and she hadn't come down. The little girl could not remember what she had said before she went up. All she knew was that she wasn't here. She wasn't taking care of her. She wasn't warming her up.

She was tired of waiting. She got up with her teddy and moved towards the stairs. The stairs looked like a spiral stretching to heaven. Her mother said that she designed it that way so every time she went down the stairs she could remember the magical way her father spun her around when they first met. They seemed to stretch out to infinity but anything was better than laying on the cold floor, wondering where her mother was. She needed her mother to explain what was going on.

As she placed her hand on the step to pull herself up, it made a squishing sound under her hand. Why was it wet? She was nowhere near any water. She hadn't spilled her juice. She hadn't had juice in days. She lifted up her hand and saw red.

She ignored it and pulled herself up. She heard the same squishing noise. She looked up and a waterfall of blood was coming down the stairs. It was warm when it splashed on her skin and she screamed. Her scream was hoarse and desperate like a dying animal. The blood filled her mouth and her screams turned into gargles. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't say anything. All she could feel was her lungs filling with blood as she clutched her teddy bear to her chest.

She thought that the bear was supposed to protect her. She thought her mother was supposed to help her. She thought her father was supposed to be there forever.

She had been wrong about everything.

That was the scariest thing.