of you are there?" I inquire quietly this time, sensing their panic.
"Ten, you were brought in a couple of hours ago, making us eleven," a softer voice answers to my right.
I can barely make out the other cages in here, it’s that dark. "What have they been doing to you?" I question, my anger resurfacing.
"There were twenty of us to begin with. Five were sold, like we’ll soon be. Five were taken below," the same voice answers.
"Below?" I echo, curious.
"Whatever they do down there to you, you don't come back," another sad sounding voice responds.
"Shut the fuck up, will you? Do you really want them to come back?" comes a hiss again, but their fear wafts in the air.
"Yes, yes I do," I answer honestly.
"Why?" the other voice asks, as I hear rustling of movement.
"Because the quicker they come back, the quicker I can kill them all and get free, and the quicker I can get back for my date." I laugh.
"She's fucking crazy," someone mutters.
"That I am, but I'm going to save your sane asses so be nice," I reply before cupping my mouth. "Hey pencil dicks, wanna play? I’m boooooreddd. Helllooooo?" I shout loudly, and it reverberates around the large, empty space. From the echo, it sounds like we are in a big, empty room somewhere.
I hear footsteps before a door flies open somewhere on the other side of the room, hitting the wall. Someone swears before they flick on the lights. Buzzing starts overhead as the lights slowly turn on, illuminating the warehouse we are in—because that’s what it is.
Boxes and crates sit to one side in a corner, and a truck is parked to my left with a big roll up door in front of it. We are in a row in the middle of the warehouse, ten cages on each side, twenty in total. Only ten are full though. I catch my first glimpse of the girls being held here and only one word comes to mine—haggard. They have all been beaten and abused in some way. One even flinches from the light, curling into her barely clad body and crying out, and whimpers slip from her mouth as she rocks back and forth.
Dragging my eyes from her, I spot the studio setup behind the cages. It’s a white background with big light stands against the back wall, and numerous cameras aimed that way. No doubt that’s how they showcase and sell the girls. The thought makes me sick, but also angry. I can deal with anger, it's mostly what kept me going since I clawed my way back from the dead.
I meet the dead eyes of the woman opposite me—nothing lives there. No fear, no anger...they are just empty. It sends a shiver down my spine. It’s the look of acceptance. Her brown hair is cut in different lengths and is greasy, but there is a pink highlight standing out, which tells me at some point this woman did care.
Her face is gaunt and smudged with dirt and blood, and her bottom lip is split and one of her eyes is black. She is wearing nothing but a white tank top and some black panties with a rip at the top. Her tanned, long legs are covered in bruises and hand marks, and when I meet her eyes again, I let her see the fury there at her treatment and hopefully their death.
She steps back, her hands dropping from the bars as she stands in the middle of the cage and waits for the boots I hear approaching to get closer.
"I warned you," she whispers sadly.
The boots get closer and I get my first glimpse of our captors. He's dressed in all black, like nearly every bad guy you see. Black cargo pants are tucked into black military style boots, and he wears a tight black t-shirt with guns strapped across his chest and thighs. He's an opposing man, for a human.
Tattoo's cover his neck—a moth with its wings open, curling up and around his jaw. A teardrop is inked under one eye, only making the darkness and cruelty I see in those brown orbs seem more intense. His hair is buzzed close to his head and he walks like a soldier. All stiff, upright, and his eyes are scanning everything. Maybe a merc? It means these guys are the best, well organised, and this wasn't a rushed job. They are trading in humans and doing something much worse to them, if what the