We sit in silence for a long time. Minutes maybe, possibly hours. Questions eat at me until I can’t hold them in anymore.
“How old are you?” I ask. Her voice sounds tiny, meek. She can’t be older than me.
“Seventeen.” She sounds younger than that.
“Seventeen? Don’t you think you’ll have family coming for you? They’ll be bound to send out an amber alert or something, right?”
“No. I’m in foster care. I don’t have anyone to look for me.”
My heart breaks for her. If I do find a way out of here, I’ll make it my goal to bring her with me. She can come live with me and I’ll take care of her.
“How do you know this is a… a sex trafficking ring?” The word tastes like bile on my tongue. I’ll end my own life before I’m sold to some rich fucker with an oversized ego.
“I’ve heard them talking. Mumbling. There’s some town over the border… I can’t pronounce it. We’re going there and there is some party or something. That’s where we’re headed. They were talking a lot of money… millions. We’re going to be sold for millions.”
I balk. “H-how? Why?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” She repeats. She keeps repeating it, and an inkling of emotion shines through when her voice cracks. She sounds broken.
“How long have you been here?” I ask softly.
“Three weeks, maybe?”
“Have you seen anyone else? Any other… prisoners?” I choke the word out.
“No. I’ve heard some, though. But I’ve been alone in here, until you.”
This little girl, who has clearly been broken long before she came here, seems helpless. She might have a life story somewhat like mine, and she thinks that’s the end of her story. I might die trying, but I’ll fight like hell to get us out of here.
“We won’t get over the border, Daniella. My boyfriend will come looking for me. I have family looking for me.” And they will. I know with my soul, that if Jackson is still out there alive, he will find me. And he’ll kill anyone that tries to get in his way.
She laughs again, this one with a little more life in it. “We’ll see, Cara. We’ll see.”
A day passes. Two days. Three, maybe. I'm not sure, I've lost count. They feel endless. Not being able to see outside makes it hard to determine how much time passes. If our bodies weren’t on a schedule, how would we ever know? When you live in a hole, everything is the same.
I get to know Daniella more. She’s a nice girl. Innocent. Living a life in the system makes you hard, and she’s not that. She’s soft with no edges. I feel for her. This will turn her into a different person. I know it will for me.
Someone comes in once a day with a tray of food. It tastes like cardboard. Flavorless, rock hard, and not nearly enough to keep a person going. It also comes with a lukewarm bottle of water that I wouldn’t question drinking except the top is sealed. Even if it weren’t, the thirst I feel makes me wanting to lick the dampness off the walls.
I’m dying.
It’s clear and true. I can’t live this way forever and I don’t know how long I can survive like this. If not physically, mentally. I probably would have found a way to end it if it weren’t for Daniella. She keeps me here and now.
Someone also comes in to take out and empty the shared bucket we go to the bathroom in. It sits in the middle of the room, with me on one side and Daniella on the other. Our chains barely make it to the bucket. I know they do that on purpose.
Besides that, we don’t see anyone. We don’t hear anyone. It’s like life doesn’t exist down here in this darkness. We’re all by ourselves.
Daniella hasn’t felt like talking as much today. I’ve noticed she gets like that. Some hours she’s talkative, and other times it's like she curls in on herself, finding her shell and not coming out. Waves of depression hit her, and I only know that because I’m starting to feel them hit me as well.
I can only imagine… being down here for weeks? My sanity would be completely obliterated.
When the heavy door unlatches, my ears perk up. This isn’t the time of day the strange man comes in with our food or to change the bucket. That