Escape To Sunset - Sharon Hamilton Page 0,49

and do the chores of the house. Doing this and showing her how to take care of the canary for the lady became the two bright spots of the day. The nights were painful and much dreaded. She began wondering if she could run away, perhaps take Adoara with her, since she knew that the cycle would be repeated, and someone else would be brought to the home when she was replaced. And then Adoara would have to bear the man’s attentions.

She began to plan, and then a miracle happened. The man was shot by his business partner, or so the newspaper said. She was given a ticket to report to Portland to visit a woman who cared for young orphans, all like her, all without papers. She was told Adoara was placed with another family on the east coast.

Natalia was good at nursing scared children back to health. Many of them came with infections and colds, dirty clothes. She became the big sister to scores of girls who came into the house and then left as they were adopted out.

Except she eventually learned the truth about the adoptions. The girls were sold. Natalia herself knew that no one would ever want her, so when the opportunity came up to start another home, Natalia was put in charge. She now had a house of her own to run. She didn’t have to worry about money, food, or her safety. She had no desire to leave because she was not a legal resident unless she married someone. The thought of letting a man touch her ever again was so abhorrent that marriage was not an option. She didn’t feel pretty. In fact, she felt scared. But the scars were really on the inside where no one could see. She bore her shame quietly and the people who came and went, bringing her the young girls she took care of, all seemed to understand her circumstances. No one ever reached out nor was interested.

She felt invisible.

Natalia had followed the stories in the newspaper about human trafficking and now knew that she, at a mere twenty-five years old or so, was part of a criminal enterprise. That could mean deportation if she were caught. How would she ever survive, or worse, would she go to jail? So although she knew it was wrong, she continued working for the men who paid the mortgage and the expenses, gave her spending money, and most importantly, left her alone. She didn’t drive and had no bank account so kept everything in cash in a jar in her snow boots. She had to buy another pair to hold the next two jars of money she saved. It became a game, something she did for fun because she had nothing to really spend her money on, but she liked seeing it grow.

She prepared oatmeal for Carmen and went into the bedroom to wake her up.

Carmen could barely sit up. Her eye looked even more inflamed than the day before.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you here. I have a doctor coming to give you some medicine. And I brought you oatmeal.”

“I don’t eat breakfast and I hate oatmeal. I have to get out of here,” Carmen said.

“No, that’s not possible.”

“What do you mean, it’s not possible? You can’t hold me here.” She attempted to get up and then saw the handcuff attaching her ankle to the bed frame.

“It’s for your own protection, Carmen.” Natalia said. “Here, just try it.” She held the bowl of oatmeal out, and Carmen swiped it away, the bowl shattering and sending milk and cereal all over the bed and the carpet.

“You know who I am and you’re still keeping me here? That’s against the law.”

“I don’t have the key. Even if I wanted to help you, I can’t. They gave me the device here but didn’t give me a way to take it off. But these people are not monsters, Carmen. They take—”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m a free woman! They have no right to do this. And look at my eye, my face.” She touched her cheek and winced. “Look what they’ve done.”

Natalia was disturbed by the violence forced upon the reporter. It was never discussed before. She knew with the articles appearing in the paper that something dangerous was brewing. But she kept her calm and didn’t let on that she was concerned.

“You have to help me. Call my editor, my friends, please!