Page 2 of Seen By Larabe

Satine

Present Day

Ihave been living in darkness my entire life. Maybe not like this, but still its own form of being kept from the light. My family is very powerful in Cuba and not for good reasons. They are Cosa Nostra as my family says. Others call us the Cartel. I don’t care what you call it, it’s evil.

In my family women are expendable, toys to be played with, possessions to be traded and wombs to breed heirs. Fathers keep their daughters locked up so they remain unspoiled, untouched and untainted so they can be given to a man who can give him more power. That is my fate. Well, it was two weeks ago until men took me from the orchard behind my house, a place that was still supposedly guarded but ironically the security on me that day was nowhere in sight.

The men who took me, I deduced early on they were not from my country, and I saw with my own eyes how they dealt with girls who fought back. So I stayed quiet. I stayed quiet, listened and watched. I figured out they were Russian when one of them came into the basement to retrieve another girl, naked, covered in tattoos but the ones on his knees told me who had kidnapped me. The Russian Mob. On his back, was the name Popov.

Every time the basement door opened, I sucked in a breath of fear, praying it wasn’t my turn, but they had yet to touch me. Then, five days ago, they brought in a new set of girls and to my horror one of them was a minor. The minute I saw her I thought of my own little sister, Talia.

My protective instincts kicked in and I began talking to her, and keeping her next to me. I learned her name was Sylvia, she was thirteen and they took her from her neighborhood in Manhattan. The day they came for her, I tried to bargain with them, trade myself for her, anything. They laughed and said as a virgin, they had a separate plan for me.

Knowing no matter what I said they would do what they wanted, my heart broke as she cried out for me as they were dragging her from the room by her hair. Then, I found myself getting up and launching at them. I began screaming and scratching and kicking at them. I tried to fight for her, little old me, thin frail me from being starved here, but I had to do something. All of the others were too scared to move. That is when the first blow came right to my rib. I hit the ground in a whoosh of air being taken from my lungs. The second blow to the same side ensured I wouldn’t move.

Although I laid there on the floor, crying not for myself but for her, Sylvia who I could no longer hear, I continued to scream and curse at them. Gasping for air I felt a man kneel over me, say something that sounded profane. He lifted my head and gripped my hair, and the blow was the last thing I felt. That was three days ago.

Yesterday they came for me and even in my sore, breathless, disoriented state I tried to fight them, no longer caring if I lived or died. Hell, the pain in my lungs is worth death. The wheezing in my ears is like a signal of impending death that I welcome. Instead of the beating I anticipated, they injected me with something, laughing the entire time. I recognized the word junkie and before I could protest, I was once again out.

They have drugged me for what seems every eight hours from there. I am in such a state of…something that I can barely walk as they lead me, with a bag over my head, somewhere, dressed and shaking violently since they haven’t dosed me yet. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would depend on drugs, but now here I am wishing for the shot.

“Don’t move,” one of my captors says in his heavy accent. I don’t know if I am in this room alone or if there are other women like me here, but with our mouths taped shut and bags over our heads, sans a hole in the nose area, there is nothing for it.

Yes, I am used to the darkness. This is just another level on the way to hell.

Three

Larabee

God, the stench of this place is palpable and when I say stench I mean the level of filth walking around with barely a hotdog between their legs, looking to buy what is mostly trafficked young girls. “Pigs.” I spit on the ground as I walk around looking for my seat.

It took me a week and a half and five dead bodies later to find out about this location in the underbelly of Budapest. Once I found out its location, I called in a favor to a contact in the Hungarian Interpol office, explained the circumstances and what I needed, namely a visa with a fake name, a plane ready to go once I got her, and for it all to be erased once we leave their borders. This did not come cheap, but the Coronado’s paid Giulia handsomely for whatever she needed.

Finding my seat, I pick up the book making sure my target is indeed listed in it. Some of these girls have no names as well, only listed on their profile under gender and age. I am getting pissed trying to figure out how the hell I am supposed to know it is her, when I see a special section of the book titled, “Pure. Clean. Able to be trained.” And yet another one, “Young, Illegal and Groomable.” This makes not only my hackles rise but also the stomach acid in my stomach churn. I want to burn this fucking place to the ground with all of them in it, if not for the innocent they are holding captive. But I will be telling the Policia where to find them as I take off.

“This is a treat, no?” I look over to the annoying, heavily accented, clearly inebriated voice of some bubbly gut, piece of shit, blowing smoke in my face trying to converse.

“Yeah, sure,” I answer him, hoping he moves on.

“Fucking cunts. Might as well make the hole between their legs useful, you know?” He precedes to chuckle at his own vitriol which makes me reach for my weapon and then the announcer comes over the speaker.

“Gentleman. It is time. Please take your assigned seats.” Releasing my breath, I continue looking through the list and then I see it. “Satine. 18yrs. Old. Virgin.” That is all it says like she is nothing otherwise. Looking around me, I know I am going to have a bidding war for her. Hell all of the virgins are going to be fought for. I am under strict orders from Giulia to procure this girl under any means and for any amount because it will be billed to her family and repaid either in currency or in blood. So a plan begins to form in my head. I have to get us out of here fast and I think the only way to do it is go for it.

According to the instructions on the back, once we win the auction, we can walk to the back and get what we paid for and either stay for more or leave. For two hours I sit not so patiently as the auction goes on and these vermin drink and buy women and little girls like cattle.

“My friends, we have come to the last two sections you have all been waiting for. Let's start with The Pure.” Fucking finally. I sit up in my chair and hit the button letting Giulia and my contact know it is time. I hear the chime in my ear piece alerting me to the fact everything I need for this moment is in place. “We are going to start this auction off with…” I zone since the name is not who I am here for. Instead I spend my time letting Giulia and my Interpol guy, Atilla, know of my plan. I get confirmation from both of them. “Finally, we have saved the best for last.” My head snaps up realizing I missed the whole damn thing almost. Panic begins for a second before I hear the rest of his words. “This little virgin is a mafia princess, already trained in the ways of our world. She is pure and docile.” I don’t need to hear more to know it is her.

“She’s up,” I whisper into my piece before the auctioneer stops speaking. The minute he signals bids can begin I press the button at my chair and push in the bid amount.

“We have a bid for one-hundred million dollars. Well gentlemen, unless someone can top that, this morsel has been served.” I wait with bated breath for someone to try to outbid me. We are prepared for all contingencies, but when all I hear are groans and curses I know I have won. “Alright sir. Please come to the back so we can take you to your prize. Now for the rest of you, we have the Underaged Category.” I give a silent thanks that I am not here for this shit, but I am also satisfied that Interpol and the FBI are outside waiting for our signal.

The piece of shit security walks me down into a damp, dark basement that smells like piss and blood. Of course, not a first for me, but it is the first time I have had knowledge of women being held in a place like this.

“You’re getting a hot one.” he sneers as we round the concrete staircase. “We have doped up for you as well so she is almost unaware of anything, though I have to tell you, you may want to give her a shot. Her drug of choice is heroine.” I ball up my fists keeping myself from knocking him the fuck out. I am seconds from asking him how far when he stops. “Satine, step forward.” I move to the side of him so I can see inside. The button on my shirt has a camera inside and the authorities are using it to plan their entry. I make sure it scans the dank room, catching a glimpse of all the women being held in here. When the one I am here for steps forward, her head covered in a black bag, hands bound, emaciated and dirty. I stuck in a breath at how much rage I am feeling. “Your owner is here.” The fuckface says to her before pushing her in my direction. That was the only thing it took to send me over the edge.

Taking a moment to check my surroundings and see that there is no one else in the vicinity, I reach around him before he can turn and put all the weight of my arms against his trachea. “Your maker is waiting,” I whisper this in his ear before turning his head and snapping his neck. He crumples to the ground in a plop. The women don’t flinch since they have no idea what happened, but I know my camera showed it. “I am not here to hurt you.'' I remove the bag from over her face. I am pulling my knife from my pocket when I hear my contact in my ear telling me they are on their way down with more sellers. When I touch her shoulders to reassure her, she jumps and all I want to do is kill him all over again. “I want to undo your restraints but, we have to get out of here. Can you be brave a little while longer?” She nods. “I’ve got her. Is everything ready?” I hear Giulia in my ear confirming while telling me to take another way out of this compound.

For fifteen minutes, we twist and turn towards the exit, carrying her in my arms knowing she doesn’t have the strength. We head in the direction of the second exit we mapped out in case we run out of time to go through our first choice. Once we are to the back where the car is waiting, I send up the flare, so they know we have made it out. Carefully, I put her in the back seat lying down and sped out of the lot. The airstrip is only a mere five minutes away, but I can feel her fear like a cold blanket around me. “I know you don’t have a reason to trust me, but I am not here to hurt you. I was hired to rescue you.” I know she won’t answer me, but I hope in time she will believe me. Then it hits me, does she speak English?

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