there. His eyes were trained on me the entire time. The same lust still burned in his eyes. He eye-fucked me while I ate dinner, thinking of the monstrous things he could do to me.
I felt sick.
I tried to make eye contact with one of the other girls. Maybe they knew where we were going. Maybe they knew of an escape route. Maybe they knew what these men wanted us for.
Based on the other captives, I could only draw one conclusion.
They were traffickers.
They would sell us to the highest bidder, putting us in unspeakable places to do unspeakable things.
I’d rather die a million times.
After dinner, we were returned to our cells. I wasn’t sure if I was the only one who had a private room. Some might think it was a privilege. But I saw it as a weakness. There was always power in numbers. Right then, I was totally alone.
And I knew that man would come for me.
He would try to rape me just like the other one.
But he wouldn’t succeed.
A week came and went, and the ship still moved at full speed. I felt the ship rock with the waves. Sometimes we encountered tough terrain, and the ship would shake violently. Aggressive dips would happen out of nowhere, and our food would slide across the table during meals. Sometimes it was so bad I couldn’t sleep despite how exhausted and injured I was.
During my alone time, I thought about Jacob. I felt sorry for him, despite the fact my fate was probably worse than his. He was probably dead somewhere, floating in the ocean. Or he escaped and was worried sick about me. He was in a foreign country and didn’t know the exact protocol for contacting the authorities. He could call home, but how would that help?
Not knowing what happened to me must be the worst thing of all. He probably didn’t know I was on a ship. And even if he did know, he had no idea what it looked like or how to identify it. And how would the police chase it down?
Jacob wouldn’t come to my rescue.
By the eighth day, I was restless. I was tired of being stuck inside the ship. The motion sickness was getting to me, and I threw up a few times. No one gave me information no matter how many times I asked.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. The panic was starting to get to me. I was trapped, far away from home, and I had no plan of escape. All the men on board had guns, and the women were too afraid to fight. If I could communicate with them, I might be able to organize a coup. We outnumbered them, so it was possible. And I would rather die in the attempt than face whatever would happen when we docked.
I would rather die than become a sex slave.
My eyes moved to the porthole just above me. Watching the water lap against it as the ship rocked gave me a small amount of comfort. It was my form of music, the gentle splash of the waves against the hull of the ship. When I stared, it helped me relax. It stopped my thoughts, and I entered into a tranquil state. Nothing existed at all.
The door creaked open behind me. The sound was so slight no one else would have noticed it but me. Ever since I’d been captured, I relied on my senses more than ever before. Sound was my most critical one. I could anticipate events before they actually happened. I could pick up voices when they were drawing near. I could detect danger with enough time to prepare for it.
I knew exactly who came to visit me in the middle of the night. I’d been waiting for him. He thought I was asleep, ignorant to the hunter who came for me. He thought I was so stupid, blissful in my naiveté.
He quickly undid his trousers and dropped them to the floor. His boxers came off too.
I waited for the right moment.
His knees gently hit the mattress, and he placed his hands on either side of me, prepared to snatch me.
My eyes opened slightly, just to watch him.
And that’s when I noticed the syringe in his hand.
That fucker was going to drug me.
I snatched his wrist and twisted it painfully, forcing the syringe to fly off the mattress and onto the floor. I head-butted him and made him snap back, shocked by how quickly I moved.
His dick was