Page 1 of Stolen

1

Wake Up

Iwoke to women screaming. The shrill sounds pierced through my ears and aggravated a pain that abruptly pounded in my head. The sudden screaming was enough to jerk me awake, pulling me from whatever dark abyss had kept me under.

My body ached – I was groggy, unfocused, and I couldn’t shake the deep feeling in my gut that something was very fucking wrong. Fear constricted my movements like a vice, tight and rigged, but I knew I had to move. I had to discover something far more important. Because I wasnotwhere I was supposed to be.

It was easy for the panic to seep in and poison my clarity, my body fighting the clench so it could tremble with fear like it wanted to. My fight-or-flight response kicked in before I was ready for it, my lungs craving more oxygen to accommodate my heart that refused to slow. I swore I could feel each beat pounding into the scratchy material under me.

The urge to scream, cry, and shout was overwhelming, the animal inside me wanting to scratch its way out of what it couldn’t understand. It hurt to contain it. But I knew better than to draw attention to myself. Yet the anxiety building up inside me was seriously competing with my rationality.

Calm down, breathe…

Assess the situation first.

I kept my body as still as I possibly could, lying partially on my side with my arms and legs curled in, sheltering myself from the nameless danger around me. I forced myself to focus and listen—listen for familiarities, to the sounds of scuffling…of crying. I listened for voices, anything I might recognize, male or female, the language spoke, if their tones were combative or nurturing.

But while I listened, I felt. I felt the cool, dry air on my skin and the rough patch of cloth beneath me that separated my body from the solid ground I was lying on. But as the hair on my limbs stood up, I realized something that confirmed my worst fears. I was fucking naked.

Slowly, I opened my heavy eyelids just a crack to peek through the bright red locks of hair that covered my face. My vision blurred, but it didn’t take me long to realize I was in some kind of cage. It was a small cage for a person, much like a large reinforced dog kennel with flat padded bedding beneath me that smelled of sweat and blood.

I sniffed the air quietly and immediately regretted it. Body odor, vomit, and stale air filled my nostrils, making it difficult not to give away my obvious disgust. Opening my eyes further, I looked ahead of me without lifting my head, noticing more of the same cages lined up next to each other. Each one contained a woman, explaining the source of the screaming I heard.

“About time you woke up,” said a female voice next to me. My eyes lifted to meet a set of pretty emeralds rimmed with light purple bruising.

Well, the jig is up.

Pushing myself up on stiff and sore limbs, I sat up and rested my back against the bars of the cage nearest to the wall. My hands reached for the pounding at my temples and rubbed in soft circles, attempting to alleviate some of the pressure.

“Where are we?” I asked, my voice dry and cracking.

“No clue,” she replied, her head shaking back and forth.

Damn it.

Taking in her appearance, I noticed the faint bruises that covered her arms, chest, and face. A swollen lip with traces of blood adorned her features, and dirt and sweat covered her tan arms and legs. She sat up against the back of the cage as I was, examining me as well. She had dirty and disheveled long blond hair that reached well past her shoulders. Beautiful green eyes peeked out from under long, thick lashes. But while I was naked, a short, tight, black strapless sundress covered her body; I was instantly envious. Why the fuck wasInaked?

“Did you happen to wake up naked too?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, they’ll give you this same dress later on.”

“Okay,” I said curiously. “So, what is this place?”

“Ever hear of human trafficking?” she asked.

I looked away in instant anger. “Fuck.”

My heart rate spiked into overdrive. I knew exactly what human trafficking was. I’d done enough research projects in undergrad to know all about the global billion-dollar industry. I never thought I would end up as a statistic of the subject I had studied. Of course, no one ever does. But then again, this state wasn’t exactly what I pictured.

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“A few days, I think. Maybe longer,” she answered. “What’s your name?”

“Jaden,” I said, rubbing the sweat from my face. “You?”

“Kayla.”

“Nice to meet you, Kayla,” I replied dryly.

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