Page 69 of Blood Revealed

The stalls remain silent until he leaves out the door that we came in through. Once it clicks shut, there’s a collective sigh. All of the women collectively let loose the breaths they’d been holding. Then I hear the whimpers, the cries. These women are petrified.

“How long do we have?” I ask the room and I wait for response. Nothing. I try again. “Please, how long do we have before he comes back?”

One woman answers. “We’ve already eaten breakfast and they don’t feed us lunch, so we have until dinner and judging from the direction of the sunshine coming through the door, that puts us at about 2 o’clock right now. I’m going to say we have another three hours to wait before he comes back. Does that help?”

“Yes, thank you. What’s your name?” I ask.

The silence hangs in the air; it’s thick like peanut butter. Weighing us down in here, making it hard to breathe, to think. I need answers if I’m going to get out of here.

“I’m Number 17,” the woman calls out. “You don’t wanna cause trouble; it’ll only bring the hurt down on yourself.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that. But, please, what’s your actual name?”

“I’m Number 17. He hasn’t liquidated the girls yet, which makes you Number 27.”

“My name is Hannah Brown. I’m from Thornbriar, Kentucky. I’m married to a member of the Brimstone Lords Motorcycle Club.”

“If you think that’s gonna save you, honey, you’ve got disappointment in your future.”

“What’s your name?” I ask again. “And if you say ‘Number 17,’ I swear to God, I’ll strangle you myself.”

The woman snickers. “My name’s Nicola. I’m from Tucson, Arizona. They nabbed me off my college campus. Well, not technically on the campus, but my friends and I were hanging out at a bar real close to campus on a Saturday night. I made the mistake of going off to the restroom on my own. A mistake that, should I survive this, I will never make again. I’m not married to the member of a motorcycle club. I’m not married at all. And now, I don’t think I’ll ever get married. After this experience, no way, even if I make it out alive. You have to trust a man to marry him, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust another man as long as I live.”

“I believe that,” I reply. “I hope it’s not the case for you, but I understand why you say that now.” As I talk to her, I press my whole body against the glass, looking down the rows to see if I can see who’s talking to me. There are other arms, some knees and legs of various skin tones. Even a little bit of hair peeks out from the glass here and there, but I don’t know which one is Nicola.

I hear tapping on glass and then I see a hand pressed against it. “I’m here,” she says. “But it’s best not to get to know the women because it only hurts more when they leave.”

“I’m not resigned to being sold off to some slimy asshole in some foreign country. Or used in any way that Escalante wants to use me.”

“You’re her…” a new voice whispers. “The oneel maestrowas after.”

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“I’m Carmen. I’m one ofel maestro’s house bitches,” she answers.

“House bitches?” I ask.

“For his own personal use,” she says. “I’ve heard your name on many occasions. You escaped, too—the Gulf Coast, wasn’t it? I don’t suspect he’ll let that happen again.”

Yeah, I don’t suspect to let that happen again, either. At least not without help.

We fall into silence again, all of us into our own thoughts. I know I am. Raif will come rescue me. The Lords will come rescue me. But we’re also going to rescue these women.

It’s funny how fast hours can go by when you’re stuck in your own head. I’m startled when the door at the end of the stable opens and it’s that soldier again, only this time he’s not alone. There’s another with him. A servant, a man. But this man has been beaten down. He keeps his head hung low, no eye contact with any of the women, only handing out trays from his cart that he rolls down the line as each stall is unlocked and the glass is pulled open for him.

When he finally gets to me, I smile and mouth a “Hi.” His head hangs low, but I see his eyes, they sayhelloback. They’re scared, but they sayhello. In this moment that we share between us, he takes too long handing out my plate, and the brute knocks him across the head. He stumbles forward, bracing himself with one hand while keeping my plate from spilling in the other. And when he opens his mouth to scream, I see that his tongue has been cut out. What kind of man cuts a person’s tongue from their mouth?

Escalante is going to die. He has to.

I’m more enraged that they would do that to a person than disgusted, and it’s been a while since I’ve eaten. I fall on my food as soon as they leave.

Basically, I’m served a salad with an egg for protein. No dressing, which makes sense as they’d want to keep us fit and trim and looking good for the buyers. As I’m nibbling on a piece of lettuce, one of the women calls out, “It’s not just his tongue that they cut.” And now I can’t eat anymore. I set the piece of lettuce back down on my plate and shove the whole tray away. That’s disgusting.

“Give me time, ladies,” I call to the stable. “I need to plan, but I’m getting out of here and I’m taking y’all with me.”

It’s sometime later when the big guy shows up again. Nicola told me his name is Perez, but they all call himel monstruo. The monster. Doesn’t that fit? The sky is starting to darken as he walks through the door with purpose. I know he’s coming for me. Escalante’s let this go long enough.

I brace, waiting to see what’s going to happen. Onceel monstruounlocks the plexiglass wall in front of my stall, I’m beginning to form a plan in my head.

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