Deception and Chaos

by S. M. Soto

  “No, no, no, no.”

  I try to yank myself free of the ropes as my anxiety bubbles over. The restraints are so tight they chafe and cut into my skin with each failed attempt to move. I jostle my body back and forth in the chair trying to break free. I use all my strength to rock the chair and hope there’s a way out of here. My limbs freeze when I hear the distinct sound of a door being unlatched.

  Fear like I’ve never felt before courses through my body and I rock in the chair aggressively trying to break free before whoever is on the other side of that door finds me. I don’t make it in time. The door is swung open and a group of men barge in. My face pales and I feel a sob crawling up my throat.

  Oh God, no.

  There’s six men in total, counting the guy who attacked me in the parking lot. My eyes linger on the smug look plastered on his face. Betrayal courses through my body. Rage boils in my veins.

  Why would he do this? Why me?

  I assess each man thoroughly. Four men are dressed in heavy black clothing with guns strapped across their bodies. Most of them have long beards, and by the looks of their clothes, they look filthy. Almost like he appears from the shadows, there’s another man who is impeccably dressed in a cream suit embroidered with gold detailing and symbols. Compared to the others, this man gives off a powerful vibe. It’s obvious he’s wealthy. His clothes scream money, and the striking difference is he’s clean shaven unlike the others.

  He stands with his head held high and shoulders back, dominating over everyone else in the room. I have no doubt he’s the leader of whatever this is. I know for certain this man is who I should fear the most. There’s a dark, frenetic energy that radiates from him.

  “Ah, so this is what you brought me Ahmed? Very good.”

  He acknowledges the man who kidnapped me from my apartment with a heavy accent and a gracious nod of his head. Ahmed nods his head slightly with a victorious smile. My lips tremble and I whimper as the man in the suit takes a few steps closer to me. He cocks his head to the side and smiles at my blatant fear of him.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You Americans are all the same. Why so afraid? So ungrateful.”

  He reaches his hand out to me, I instinctively flinch away but only manage to twitch with me being bound to the chair. It’s obvious my reaction isn’t one he appreciates, within milliseconds he snatches my chin in a viselike grip, forcing me to look him in the eye.

  “You will respect me, kalb.” His voice is eerily calm, sending a shiver of dread through my body.

  “Or shall I call you my pet? No, I think dog suits you much better. Wouldn’t you agree, kalb?”

  My chest heaves trying to accommodate my fear of him being this close. With his hand still gripping my face, he reaches his free hand up to caress my hair. The sentiment is gentle, but I still tense under his hold, knowing better.

  “Dark hair, olive skin, and green eyes. Exotic. You did very well, Ahmed. She’s special.”

  His eyes roam over my every feature and linger on my chest longer than I’m comfortable with. I hold my breath, to stop my heaving breasts from looking any more appealing. I clench my eyes shut to regroup and prevent myself from screaming. His hand trails lightly between the valley of my breasts and he grips one tightly. A shocked sob sputters past my lips.

  This can’t be happening to me.

  This is every woman’s worst nightmare.

  He leans forward into my personal space, still gripping my breast in his hand. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to stifle my sobs. Tears stream down my face, clouding my vision.

  “She’s kept here until the bidding. Get her to eat at least a meal a day. I need her alive.” His eyes shift to my legs, toward the apex of my thighs. I tense beneath the restraints and try to calm my erratic sobbing. In a flash, he grips my hair and pulls my face inches from his, I clench my eyes closed, afraid of what will happen next.

  “Are you pure?”

  My eyes fly open at his question, and dread consumes me. I momentarily lose control of my voice and my vocal cords, unsure of what to say. I lost my virginity to my high school boyfriend.

  If I say no, will they all try to rape me?

  If I say yes, what will happen if they know I’m lying?

  He studies my face waiting for my answer.

  “The truth,” he growls. “I have necessary means to tell if you’re lying.”

  I swallow the fear clogging my throat. “Yes.”

  The lie slips easily from my lips. I can only hope he believes me. He searches my eyes for the truth. I will my violently beating heart to slow, afraid he’ll hear it, sensing my deception. He squints his brown eyes, and the adrenaline courses through my body, rattling my bones. A beat later, he backs out of my personal space, looks me up and down before turning back to his men.

  “She’s not to be touched. Punish her when necessary. She is not one of the slaves in training. She will go to the highest bidder, unharmed in the circle.”

  Ahmed speaks up impatiently.

  “Abdul, the circle only bids the highest for quality. I should be the one to train her, I supplied her. She’ll be well trained and worth even more once I’m through with her.”

  Abdul’s smile is vicious—frightening. It forces all the hairs on my body to stand at attention.

  “No one touches.”

  He narrows his eyes at Ahmed who opens his mouth again, ready to argue. “Almawt.” Abdul barks, nodding his head at one of the men.

  Suddenly a large gun is aimed at the back of Ahmed’s head. A deafening bang rings through my ears and I watch as Ahmed’s blood and chunks of flesh splatter everywhere. His lifeless body falls to the ground in a heap and a broken sob tears through my chest. Real life blood and dead bodies are nothing like the movies. They’re worse. So much worse.

  The only sounds coming from the room are the ringing in my ears and my horrified screams. I feel bile rise in my throat and I know I’m going to be sick. I watch in pure horror as Abdul casually reaches for the gold cloth in his breast pocket and wipes excess blood spatter from his face like it’s an everyday occurrence. He flicks the now dirty pocket cloth on top of Ahmed’s lifeless body. He casually turns his attention to me, and my sobbing that’s ringing throughout the room intensifies. The look he gives me chills me to the bone. No words are needed to make his point. He’s showing me what he’s capable of, how powerful he is and how easily people are disposed of.

  He’s ruthless and doesn’t care about the lives of others.

  He nods his head at the man who shot Ahmed and directs his stare at me. My stomach drops, and all the air is expelled from my lungs.

  Oh, God.

  I start shaking my head frantically. My chest is heaving with sobs and I jostle my body in the chair.

  “Please don’t. Please!” I cry out through my sobs. The heavily bearded man reaches me in three strides. The last thing I remember is the butt of the gun being slammed into my face.

  PRESENT

  THE SOUND OF DISTANT VOICES and the lingering growl of an engine wake me. I rapidly blink, trying to pry open my eyes, but I’m bathed in darkness, still unable to see a thing. There’s a heavy weight over my face that’s restricting my airway. I flex the muscles in my arms and legs, but they’re bound together with little to no give. Resting my body, I lay motionless on the hard surface inside of a vehicle. The voices get louder, and become clearer, but I can’t make out what’s being said.

  Shit. They’re speaking in another language again.

  My back aches from the position I’m in on the hard metal surface. The floor beneath me vibrates, and the hum of the engine is faint. I inhale deep breaths, staving off panic so they won’t know I’m awake. The vehicle rolls to a sudden stop and the momentum launches my bound body forward into what feels like a brick wall. A sharp pain slices through my shoulder and I can’t suppress the groan that tumbles from my dry lips.

  All at once, there are voices coming from every direction. There’s shouting and thumps of movement. I swivel m
y head around under the blinding bag trying to see what’s happening around me. I freeze upon hearing the thudding of boots, shifting of feet, doors opening and closing all at once. My breathing is loud and ragged under the thick cloth. The puffs of air from my breath warm the inside of the material, heating my face. There’s a soft click beside me, and my muscles tense as I wait for something to happen—anything. I can’t make out a single thing beneath this damned cloth and I’m relying solely on my hearing.

  Without warning I’m hauled roughly into someone’s arms. I scream and wiggle, trying to get free.

  I’m not going anywhere without a fight.

  The grip tightens around me, halting my attempts to free myself. Boots echo on pavement beneath me, and I can’t help but wonder where we are, and what’s going to happen next. My body aches in pain from the force of the hold around me. The muscles scream in protest.

  I’m bathed in unexplainable heat again, and I choke on the lack of air inside the bag over my head.

  “They’re expecting you.” A woman says in an undetectable accent.

  Suddenly, the stifling air surrounding me gives way to the cool air drafting through my legs. I inhale the clean and fresh air as it breezes through the cloth still securely over my head. There’s loud chatter and something that sounds a lot like the whining of a dog, or a wounded animal.

  I’m roughly positioned on my unsteady legs. My feet and arms are suddenly cut free and I take my time stretching my numb limbs. Needlelike sensations stab across my flesh as my blood recirculates, returning to its normal flow. The floor feels cool and smooth underneath my bare, blistered feet. The heavy, suffocating bag is lifted from my head, and I gulp in large breaths of much needed air. I blink furiously, trying to adjust to the light around the foyer of the room I’m standing in. All at once I wish I was back in my four-walled prison, by myself.

  There are men and women everywhere, some lightly beaten, while others can barely move; each of them are covered in bruises. My mind can’t seem to comprehend what it’s seeing. Some are crying and whimpering, while most are quiet and look devoid of any emotion. My heart plummets as I stare at the scenes unfolding before me. The room is lavishly decorated in reds and golds, with marble floors, ornate rugs, and frightening statues. Among the lavishly decorated room are groups of people that come from every walk of life. They’re all dressed to the nines, with perfectly tailored suits and long, elegant evening gowns that show off their wealth.

  Amongst the elite, there’s an enormous group of girls and boys ranging from the ages of twelve to late twenties. The boys and girls are on all fours and completely naked with chains around their necks and their heads bowed down. They’re treated like pets—animals—being forced to eat on the floor, fed scraps. Most of the young girls and boys look severely beaten with discolored bruises marring their flesh, and severely malnourished; their bones protrude from their thin bodies. It sickens me. Acidic bile rises in my throat, threatening to expel at my feet.

  Is this how I look?

  My stomach churns violently at the realization of what’s going on around me. I protectively wrap my arms around my midsection, thankful I at least still have on a nightgown.

  This is what they brought me here for. I’m being sold.

  It all comes crashing down on me. This, all this before me, is my future. I let out a sob and watch in horror as several heads swivel in my direction, meeting my eye. Men and women of all nationalities are around the room. Some stare at me with unabashed lust in their eyes, while others stare at me in disapproval, and anger. Like my tears are the most inappropriate thing happening here. The weight of their stares sends chills down my spine. My hair is gripped painfully from behind me and I whimper at the brutal hold.

  “Silence!” Abdul hisses in my ear. “You will obey my every command, or you will be punished in front of everyone,” he says spitefully. His words send a shiver of dread down my spine. My teeth chatter as I struggle to hold in my sobs. Pain shoots through my arm from Abdul’s furious grip, and I’m forced to keep moving.

  My body aches in protest with my every move. I shudder as I watch these poor men and women suffer at the hands of these evil people. I’m vaguely aware of the wealth floating around me as we walk out of the lavishly decorated room into another room that’s equally lavish. The floors are shiny and pristine, and the room is decorated in antique furnishings with crystallized chandeliers. There are golden statues and portraits left and right. My feet freeze when my gaze falls on the center of the room where the large sofa is positioned. I watch repelled as girls and even boys are held down and forced to participate in degrading acts, while many of the attending men and women just sit around on plush cushions and love seats placed around the room and watch raptly with glasses of champagne in their hands, having idle conversations. I try to cry as silently as possible. My stomach churns with despair and I no longer have control of my trembling body.

  I’m thankful that I’m yanked forward out of the room into an elevator. I clench my eyes shut when I’m shoved into the back corner. I shakily inhale a deep breath before peeling open my eyes. Abdul stands in front of me with one of his men, while the remaining four surround me. The floor of the elevator is decorated in the same gold marble as the rest of the house and the doors and walls are gold plated. The doors slide open silently and I’m nudged forward by the barrel of a gun at my back.

  A clamber of voices starts becoming clearer with every step we take. As we reach the threshold of a room, the voices slowly lower until it’s eerily silent. I can’t see a thing with Abdul’s men blocking me, the only thing I’m certain of are the dim lights and dark burgundy colors draped around the room and along the high vaulted ceiling. The air up here reeks of cigars and alcohol.

  “Abdul, long time my friend. Very long time. We’ve been waiting for you to show with the final bid. The men have gotten rowdy.” Someone says, voice thick with gravel.

  “Muhammad. My apologies. I come bearing a very special gift for our bidding.”

  My heart pounds violently in my chest, trying to break free, and I swallow the golf-ball sized lump in my throat. For the life of me I don’t want Abdul or his men to move an inch. Whatever is in front of them is something I know I won’t want to see.

  Abdul says something in Arabic, addressing his men, and three of them step away revealing the room around me. There’s only one of his men left behind me, still holding me at gun point. My heart drops as I take in the scene before me. The room is filled with men. They all in one way or another remind me of Abdul. There’s eight in total, ranging from every ethnicity you can think of. They are all dressed impeccably in suits with cigars and tumblers filled with amber liquid. The men are all emblazoned with diamond encrusted pieces of jewelry. Some men have on watches and pinky rings that gleam beneath the lights while a few of the other men are too hidden in the shadows to make out anything.

  I hesitantly look at Abdul, and our eyes clash. He’s been watching me intently, waiting for my reaction. Abdul nods his head at his right-hand man behind me.

  “Zuhran.”

  My already aching shoulder is gripped without mercy and I’m dragged to the elevated point in the center of the room. I cry out in distress from his unrelenting grip and the scathing pain in my shoulder. I huff out panicked breaths as cool beads of perspiration accumulate on my forehead—the scalding pain in my shoulder is too much to handle, it almost makes me pass out.

  The center of the room looks almost like a stage of sorts. Bright lights shine down on the elevated spot that I’m being shoved under. There are extravagant sofas all arranged perfectly in front of me, where the men are sitting. They rest their backs against the leather and stare up at me expectantly. Silent tears track down my face as I feel the hungry stares of the men around the room. One of the monsters in the corner speaks first in a thick Russian accent that’s hard to understand.

  “She’s malnourished. I can’t see beneath the bruising and scars. Worthless.” His lip curls in disdain a
s he stares at me with a disgusted expression on his face. He’s wearing a mink coat, made of dark fur, while he puffs on a cigar. My gaze trains on the ugly scar that runs across the length of his face from his eyebrow down to his chin. I clench my eyes shut tightly, trying to block out everything being said.

  What happens if they don’t want me?

  I swallow thickly, close to passing out. My body sways and my stomach twists violently as I consider the answer to that question.

  “She’s prideful this one. Beaten and starved on more than one occasion. The American’s are always the worst when it comes to their pride, you should know this better than anyone Ivan.” Abdul says, and snickers resound throughout the room.

  “The dress must go.”

  My heart freezes and all the air is knocked out of me. My eyes snap open in fear and I shake my head frantically. I don’t know who voiced it, but I glare at all the men before me; refusing to undress for them.

  “Kalb, take the dress off.” Abdul directs at me with a snarl, and that cruel glint in his eye. A broken sob shoots through my chest and I continue shaking my head no—sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Please,” I whisper helplessly through my tears. “Don’t make me do this.”

  Zuhran steps out from behind me and I sob harder. He raises the back of his hand to my face, the blow knocking me to the floor. The hit is brutal, like being hit in the face with a jagged brick, tearing open the skin above my eye. I feel a trickle of blood run down my temple toward my cheek. Zuhran flicks open a switch blade and begins cutting my nightgown down the middle.

  I can hear the pounding of my heart thumping violently in my ears, and the blood rushing through my veins. Trying to fight off his advances as best as I can, I let out a bloodcurdling scream that feels like it shakes the foundation of the walls. My hair blocks my vision, spurring me to flail my arms and legs wildly. Miraculously, I connect with something and Zuhran grunts. The air is knocked out of me as his boot connects with my ribs. My hands fly to my midsection in protection, I screech in pain and hungrily gasp for breath.