by Coulton, JC
“What happened to you? You look like crap.”
“Thanks sis,” I say it with a hint of humor, but she’s right. They really messed me up.
“Jesus, Blake. Sit down.” She points to one of the breakfast bar stools and reaches into the top cupboard for the first aid kit. I follow instructions and gratefully accept the coffee she hands me.
Brenda examines me and cleans up each of the cuts. It’s not the first time she’s cleaned me up. I used to stagger home drunk in a variety of states and pass out on the floor for her to find and rescue. The guilt of that behavior is still with me. There were times it happened while she was pregnant. The last thing she wanted or needed was to scrape up her older brother from the hallway to nurse me back to health.
“How did this happen?” She says, trying to hold back the disapproval.
“Honestly, it’s all my fault. I lost my cool with that FBI agent, and then ended up in another fight when I went to confront the guy I think knows more about my case. Sure, both situations could have been resolved without the physical contact. I just… I just lost it, Bren! It scared me. It was too much like the old days.”
“I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Blake,” she says, rubbing my arm to console me. “At least you didn’t enjoy it like you used to. That’s what would’ve had me really worried and trust me, lately I’ve been wondering what’s up with you… You’re different, and maybe it’s the stress, or the suspension.”
“So much has been going on. I’ve had time to find a balance. I’ve lost control over my emotions since Carrie came back, and now she’s gone again. This time I have no idea where. Everything is so fucked up, Brenda.”
She finishes dressing my wounds and I thank her for being so kind.
“Don’t thank me, Blake” she says, sitting down on her sofa. “Just tell me what’s going on. I’m your family, for God’s sake.”
I sit down with her. The woman is right as usual. “You know what happened with Carrie’s friend right?” She nods. “Well there’s a chance that Erica might be involved in the case.” Brenda looks confused, “You know Erica, the woman I used to date, the one that was beaten up, remember, I got her a place to stay with Patrick...”
“Yeah, yeah I know which one you mean, but what’s she got to do with this?”
“Well, Erica went back to working her game. The drugs got to her, then the power. She ended up becoming a pimp.”
“I always knew she was twisted Blake.” Brenda turns those worried eyes to me. “If she’s gone back to that life, why do you have anything to do with her?”
“I don’t. Not really, anyway. I’ve kept an eye on her; nothing more. But it’s come back to bite me in the ass now. She’s the main reason behind my suspension. The FBI thinks I’m an accessory because I went to tap Neon for information, and they saw us meeting.”
“Why were you dealing with her at all?” she asks.
“She has information. I’ve always been hesitant to treat her like a CI because of our history mostly, but I decided it was time to get over it. The FBI assumed the worst. Before I knew it, I was in a fight with both Carrie and Agent Cooper. And sometime during our fight, Carrie disappeared. I have no idea where she is, and neither does the FBI. What’s worse is I’m not even supposed to be out there looking for her. If Jacob finds out I haven’t distanced myself from the case, she’ll have my ass in a sling. But I can’t help it. I…I love Carrie, Brenda.”
“You love Carrie?”
I nod. “And it’s killing me she could be in trouble. I went to Jessup Lee’s club to try and get more info. And that’s when this happened.” I point to my bruises. “Jessup’s guys weren’t happy when I attacked him. But there was nothing left to do. He told me April and Carrie brought this on themselves.”
“Blake! He wanted to get under your skin. You’ve gotta put a leash on your impulsiveness. You’re sitting here with broken ribs!” Her tone is stern. “I hope you got the information you went in there for?”
“That’s the problem. I got it; more than I wanted to know. I’m so stupid, Brenda. I should have known all along. Jessup told me Neon is one of the people responsible.”
“Hang on, who’s Neon again?” She asks, looking a little confused.
“Neon is the name that Erica uses on the street.”
Brenda takes a second to process the connection. “Blake, are you seriously telling me that your ex-girlfriend has something to do with April and Carrie’s disappearance?”
“Yes. And it sounds crazy. It’s no wonder I look suspicious, right?”
Brenda pauses for a second and then looks away. I can tell she’s trying to decide whether or not to speak her mind.
“What?” I say it somewhat defensively, it’s not often Brenda hold back her true feelings or opinions, and I don’t like it.
“Blake, I saw you in the car with Erica or Neon, whatever her name is. I saw you kiss her.” She spits it out quickly, as if the words are dirty, and now I understand her disbelief. Of course she must be wondering what I’m up to if she saw that.
“It’s not what you think, Brenda. It was nothing, Neon came to see me and tried to make a move on me, but I stopped her. She’s the one who kissed me and then I told her to stop. I told her I’m in love with Carrie and it was over between us. It didn’t go well, but she got the message. That’s why I felt it was time to start using her as an informant. For so many years I was under her spell. It’s crazy, I don’t know why she had so much power over me.”
“I had no idea, Blake. To me, she was always toxic, but you couldn’t see it. She was playing you the whole time.”
“I know that now. I see what was happening. I swear that kiss was nothing. She kissed me and…I felt nothing. The only woman I want is Carrie.”
“If this is true, you need to stop seeing Neon! I mean totally stop, not as a CI and not as a woman. It doesn’t matter what you think she knows. You can lose your job. You need to let that go.”
I nod, agreeing that it’s the best plan. “I just need to work out how to find Carrie. And now that Jessup Lee has suggested Neon knows something more than what she’s told me, am I supposed to just ignore it?”
“You love her, but maybe it’s time to let the others find her? Tell Jacob what you know about Neon and then wait this one out. I’ve never seen you more wound up. I’m worried this will send you over the edge.”
“I hear you, but you’ve got to trust me, okay? I’m going to fix this. I just need to make a plan.”
“As long as that plan includes us, Blake. We’re your family too. You need to factor us into whatever you’re going to do. If your job is at risk, it affects George and me. And I don’t think I can do it alone again.” Her voice shakes as she says it, and I’m reminded how vulnerable she is. Everything that I do ends up affecting her. Financially anyway.
“Brenda, I promise I’m not going to do anything to make it worse. I don’t know what’s going to happen with this job, but it doesn’t matter. We’ve got enough savings to get us through until I find something else. Trust me, okay? I’m not going to leave you all alone with a kid to raise and a mortgage to pay. I promise.”
“That’s all I needed to hear. George is going to be up soon, so I’ll let you think about what I’ve said.”
I smile at her and nod. I know what she’s thinking and I won’t put her through it. Mom left us when we were young, and that left Brenda with a lot of anxiety, and a fear of abandonment.
“Hey. On another topic, there’s one good thing,” I say with a smile. “I spoke with Mrs. Baldwin. She told me about Melinda Munroe…”
Brenda matches my conspirator’s grin.
“George has a crush!” We both say it together and laugh. We’re joyous his broken arm wasn’t something more ominous.
“Yeah I spoke to her too. I was so relieved.”
“Me too.”
“I like the kid he’s becoming, Blake. We’re doing a good job. We’ve just gotta get you out of the woods on this susp
ension thing, and we’ll be gold again!”
She gets up and starts repacking the first aid kit.
“Thanks for your help, sis.” I say it bashfully.
“You’d better not be looking for me to take pity on you so I can make you breakfast,” she teases.
I give her a playful smile and hold my ribs. “And maybe a painkiller or two?”
She sighs and nods, making her way to the stairs. “I’m sure George is already awake. I’ll get some eggs on for the two of you.” She pauses to look at me. “There’s one more thing, Blake. I’d like us to have a talk once this is over, okay? I have something I want to talk to you about. Agreed?”
“Of course,” I say, already thinking about her famous omelet. I don’t know what I’d do without Brenda some days.
Chapter 7
Carrie
I’m positioned over the loose floorboard, with the strange little collection of items is laid out beside it. At any moment, Neon’s guys could arrive and leave me floundering to put it all back. I barely got the mattress back in place last time, so I decide to put it all away again; everything except the journal. That’s staying with me.
After restoring order to the room, I handcuff myself to the bed again and settle down to read…
Day One
Today I found this notebook and my heart sang for the first time in weeks. I didn’t used to be a thief, but I slipped it into my bag like a seasoned pro. Mind you, compared to everything else I’ve been doing, thieving doesn’t really matter does it? The truth is my life is a living hell. I’ve got to do what I can to stay alive. I believe finding this notebook might be a sign from the universe. Writing in here is going to help me survive; and one day, my words might even help another girl like me. I’m sure I won’t be the last to be trapped here.
So here goes… This is an honest and unflinching account of the hell that my life has become. Mum, if you’re ever reading this, I’m deeply sorry I didn’t make it back home. Everything you wanted for me is gone. My life stopped, but it’s not your fault. It’s not mine either. This diary will tell the story of what happened to me, Sarah Shaw.
Day two
Even in the pits of this hellhole, there is hope. That’s what I have to hold on to. This is why I’m writing my story here. The losers do not usually write history; neither do victims like me. History is written by victors; by those who glamorize what really happened. But this time, it’s just me talking. And the truth is coming out. As raw as it might sound, I’m going to hold nothing back.
If you find this diary, the first thing you should know is that you’re not alone. You’re not the first person they’ve taken, and you’re not the only one they’ve hurt. The second thing is it could well get worse for you than it was for me.
My name is Sarah Shaw. I’m from London, England. I was visiting New York when I took a year off to travel before starting University. I was only supposed to be here for a week. Now my chances of University are up in smoke, and I don’t know how long I’ll be here, or if I’ll ever leave.
I was out with friends when Neon’s men took me. There was nothing I could do. They drugged me. I couldn’t move. My body was paralyzed. Then they put me in this room. That’s when the hell began. Drugs and prostitution. Pain and degradation. That night was the end of my life as I knew it. It was the start of a spiritual war—the greatest battle I will ever fight.
Day Three
I’m sorry my entries are so short. I have limited time when I write. To continue writing, I need to ensure I’m not caught. Yesterday I heard them coming in to drug me again, and I had to stop. If they knew I was doing this, they’d kill me. I’m scared every day, but I will write what I can when I can. Forgive me; please don’t judge me as I am already judging myself for this horrible chain of events that put me here.
Thankfully, the night always comes fast. I work on the street from 6pm until 6am and it feels like I just get home when it’s time to go back to work. That means I don’t have to think. I just write and sleep. They have me working on a street corner. They say I’m not pretty enough for an establishment or to work as a call girl. They make me stand there, and then they take the money I earn from whoring. Every day they tell me I’m nothing, and then give me drugs. Sometimes I believe them, because there is nothing left of my life.
Once, I tried to run. Neon’s boys caught me, and then they beat me. I guess she wanted to make sure I never tried again. It worked. The force of those fists was shocking. They made me bleed. I hate her and her men. She never does any of the dirty work herself. She just sets her thugs on us like dogs; and then she watches the carnage.
I could write forever about the pain, but I don’t want to waste the little time I have. If you’re reading this and you’re like me, trapped in here, please, please, make sure you never struggle. You’ll lose. To stay alive, you need to learn to let go. If we’re ever going to get out of here, we need to use our brains, not our fists. You will only lose against those men.
Day Four
So far, Lucy and I stay in this horrid room. She sleeps on the bed beside mine. She’s the only one I have, and she’s amazing. Lucy makes it bearable. She helps me stay strong. They took her from outside a club too. That’s what they do. Find girls. Take them, drug them up and then sell them.
Neon has lots of other girls, but we’re not allowed to talk to them. It’s just Lucy and me in here. She sleeps more than I do, but she doesn’t dream anymore. When I sleep I have dreams. They are all nightmares. My blackness is full of horror. I try and block it out, but the johns come back to me when I’m sleeping; time and time again. I can never escape the feeling of their hands on me. I don’t know if I’ll ever make love again, or go to school, have children or do anything I had planned to do.
I am so sad.
Day Five
Today was better, if there is such a thing around here. The clients were bearable. They didn’t hit me or try and hurt me like they sometimes do. They were just lonely men, looking for someone to touch. It made me want to cry for them, but how can I do that? I need to care about myself, not them.
I found one of my earrings tonight. I thought they were lost forever but then I saw one was on the floor outside the door—twinkling up at me like a tiny piece of hope, a shining star telling me to hold on and be brave. I looked up at the grungy ceiling of the room, and wished it was the sky. At least that way I could say thank you for giving me something good to have close.
My dad gave the studs to me when I turned 18. I had cried. They were small, but made of real diamonds, and were incredibly beautiful. He told me the first man to give a woman diamonds should be her father. I know he always wanted the best for me even if he had high standards. I think I actually dove to the floor when I saw it sparkle today. I can’t stop looking at it.
Then, even better, I found a secret hiding spot under the floorboards. All I have to do is move my mattress and pull up the board. No one will ever know these things are in there, diary. No one will be able to steal my last earring either, even if they are trying to steal my soul.
On the good days like this, I try and tell myself that this will end. When I think like that, the feeling of the drug isn’t as bad, and the fear is smaller. On the bad days, I try not to think at all. I talk to Lucy about what we’ll do when we get out. We’re going to get ice cream. Her favorite flavor is mint. Mine is chocolate.
I ask Lucy about her family, but she doesn’t like talking much after work. Today she told me she has a sister she never got along with; it made me wish I wasn’t an only child. She’s like my sister now. We stand together on the street, and I know she’ll help me if I need it. That’s what having a sister is like, isn’t it?
Day Six
My body hurts. They’ve been working me every night. I need a break. Everything they do to me feels like an invasion, the needles hurt me, and then the johns hurt me. Tonight, a client spat on me. All I could think about was all the diseases I could be getting. I tried to move out of the way, bu
t the drugs made me too slow. The guy stank. There was nothing I could do except cry. After he was done with me, he slapped me and told me get out of his car.
Lucy had tough clients today too. I always know when she does, because she’s silent when Neon’s men bring us back to this prison. They transport us in a shitty old van. I can never see where we’re actually staying. They’ want to ensure we don’t have the means to get away.
In the van tonight, Lucy kind of slumped against the wall. That’s when I knew. I think the drugs are getting to her. She gets sick now in the mornings. She seems to need them more than I do. She cries more. I think she must feel more pain than me. Honestly, everything feels like a dream to me most of the time. But then I wake up and find her staring at the wall. How do you know when someone is losing their mind? Are there warning signs? I don’t know and there’s no one else to ask. All I know is that she’s taking longer and longer to answer when I say her name.
On the first couple of days she would come to me when I had nightmares. She would touch my forehead and tickle me with her feather. At first I didn’t know what it was. It was so soft and gentle. I loved it when I finally saw it. It was pink, and reminded me of something you’d see fall from a boa.
Now, she lets me dream alone. I wake up and watch her in the shadows of the room. Her eyes go glassy when she’s sick like that. All she does is stroke her arms with that feather and sing, and then she hides it before the men come to drug us. I think she’s singing to herself but who knows.
Day Seven
Today I started to wonder if I’ll ever get rescued. I always wanted to fall in love; to find someone special. Who knows? I don’t like thinking about this stuff, but today I can’t sleep. One of the clients had some coke tonight. He made me snort some with him. Like it was going to make me enjoy him more or something. I didn’t orgasm. I never do. It’s too painful.
