Chained

by Escalera, Tessa

  A few minutes later the window opened again, and a plastic gas station bag was tossed through. Neither Tanya or Rachel moved to touch it.

  I reached over and pulled the bag into my lap. It was full of crappy gas station snacks. To the three of us, it might as well have been a seven-course meal at a five star restaurant. When the other girls saw what the bag contained, there was a brief scuffle that left me holding a shred of ripped plastic, two bags of chips, a pack of Swiss Rolls and a can of soda. Three bottles of water rolled unclaimed on the floor. It's amazing what months of toast and bologna sandwiches will do to a person's morality and taste buds.

  I retreated to a corner of the van to eat my food. I ate the cake slowly, holding each bite in my mouth for a long time before swallowing. For a few days after my son's birth I had been given soup, bacon and eggs, but even that had little seasoning and had soon returned to the tasteless sandwiches.

  Once I had eaten every bite of the cake rolls and licked every bit of visible chocolate from the wrapper and the little cardboard in the bottom of the package, I started on the chips.

  I had forgotten how amazing food could taste. The chips were so salty that they hurt my mouth, but I didn't care. They were greasy, and crunchy, and wonderful. I used a fingertip to get every last crumb from both bags.

  Then the soda. The carbonation fizzed against the roof of my mouth. The acid stung my tongue which was already raw from the chips.

  I realized that I was crying. I laughed at myself, and dashed the tears from my eyes. Stop being silly. It's just food.

  No. The other part of my mind replied. It's not just food. It's the taste of life.

  I knelt under the little window with just the top of my head peeking over, ducking down anytime Master or Travis turned their head. I watched as we drove, as the road turned and straightened, taking us ever onward and upward into the hills.

  We stopped after a while and pulled into a rest stop. It wasn't big enough to have an attendant. Master and Travis waited until all of the other cars had left before Master got out and opened our door.

  “You've got five minutes,” he instructed. “I would recommend you not attempt to run. We have no problem shooting you and leaving your bodies for the next tourists to find. Is that understood?”

  We all nodded, and hurried into the rest stop. There was only two bathroom stalls, so I stood outside while the other girls had their turn. I looked at myself in the mirror over the bathroom sink. Even with the normal clothing, I looked like a character out of a horror movie. My hair was severely matted and dirty. My eyes were sunken and huge in my pale face. I looked half dead. And I didn't feel much better.

  After Tanya came out and I had my turn, the three of us came out of the bathroom and walked up the short sidewalk back to the van. I threw a longing look at the bright and shiny vending machines off to the side. We climbed silently back into the van and were soon in motion again.

  Around the time the sun hit noon, we took another exit off of the highway. The pavement quickly ended in a dirt road and the jostling began again as the van sped along the gravel.

  I sat beneath the window, watching the other two girls. They were huddled together, and they were obviously scared. They whispered to each other and completely ignored me.

  As I watched them, I wondered at myself. I'm a captive. I'm in a van being taken to an unknown location by my captors who are running from the police. To yet another place where no one will find us. I should be terrified out of my mind.

  But all I can think of it how grateful I am to see the sunlight again and to have something other than four concrete walls to stare at.

  I never realized how beautiful life can be. How did I not see this until it was too late? Dad has said that you need to see the darkness before you can fully appreciate the light. Well, after months of darkness, the light is so beautiful I think I could die happy even if I died at this very moment.

  Chapter 18: Love is a Crazy Thing

  According to the clock on the dashboard, we drove up into the mountains on that winding dirt road for nearly an hour. Finally we turned a corner and pulled into a little shaded cove. A house was built into the side of the hill and there was a faded red barn toward the back of the property. It was almost like a crater, a little flat-ish spot at the convergence of the three ragged peaks of what was either a large hill or a small mountain. It was almost like a mesa surrounded by a wall of jagged rock. Whatever it was, it was unique. There couldn't have been more than a couple acres of space.

  The door slid open, and Travis motioned us out. I let Tanya and Rachel go first before lowering myself painfully to the ground. I was sore and shaky.

  We were directed to the barn. The doors spanned almost the entire height of the building and rolled on metal tracks. Travis pulled one of the doors aside and pointed into the building. “Go on.”

  Rachel hesitated and looked for a moment like she might bolt, but Travis lunged and caught her by the arm. “Let me explain something,” he said, looking at Rachel but with his voice pitched for all of us. “We are ten miles from the highway. Thirty from the nearest gas station. Sixty from the nearest town with a police station. If you run, you will either die in the hills, or Master or I will find you first. I trust you can figure out which of these is the more pleasant scenario.”

  Rachel was crying now. Travis pushed her through the barn door, and Tanya and I followed silently. There was a wide aisle down the middle of the barn, with horse stalls on each side.

  Master appeared in the doorway behind us.

  “You, in there,” he growled, pointing at me and then the nearest stall. He moved as if to grip my arms but I hurried forward to avoid his touch. I pulled the lever on the door and stepped inside.

  You would think I had already seen the ultimate in depravity and insanity. But even I cringed at the sight of the stall. Stale straw that probably hadn't been changed in years. In the corner, a bucket with a toilet seat on it. A hose with a sprayer nozzle on it hung over the top of the wall, which was at least eight feet high. There was no way I could reach the top, even standing on top of the bucket. In another corner was a pile of stained, threadbare blankets.

  As soon as I stepped across the threshold, the door was slammed shut on my heels and the latch was pushed into place. I spun around to watch as Master walked away. This barn was no dilapidated, run-down structure. No, every board was sound and every piece was well made and well connected. The floor was dirt, but thick timbers buried along the bottom of all the walls made digging out an impossibility. On top of the walls, going up at least another yard, was a heavy livestock-grade fence. The same fencing covered the window in the top of the door. I could put my hands through, but the window was too high and the latch too low for me to unlock the door.

  Once we were all in our individual prisons, the men left. Rachel was in the stall next to me, and Tanya beyond her. As soon as the barn door slid closed and plunged us into twilight, Rachel slumped against the wall and began to cry. I squatted down on my side of the wall, leaning against the rough wood. I could see a glimpse of her dark hair and one of her ears through a knothole in the wood.

  “Hey.” I stuck my fingers through the hole and touched her ear. She jerked away, and looked at me. “We're okay.”

  “Okay?” Rachel's voice was dangerously close to a scream. “Okay?? We were almost rescued! And now....now we're in some other godforsaken place, where nobody will ever find us! We're all going to die here!”

  “We are alive for now, aren't we? The police know who has us, or they wouldn't have been coming.”

  “So?”

  They say teaching someone something is the best way to learn. Apparently reassuring someone else is also the best way to convince yourself. “So, it's a step in the right direction. If they found us where we were before, then they'll find us here too. They'll find the basement, and our stuff. And they'll know we are still alive.”

  “But for how much longer? What if they just decide to kill us all?”r />
  I sighed and slumped against the wooden wall. “I don't know. I don't know what's going to happen.”

  All I knew was that now, at this very moment, we were alive. I had seen the sunlight again. I had tasted food and I wore clothing with bright colors.

  As crazy as it is, even these few little things gave me the courage to keep going for at least a little while longer. They were like signs that God hadn't forgotten about us, that there were people out there still looking for us. Rachel saw these recent events as reason to lose hope, but I couldn't help feeling the opposite. Someone still cared. If they'd found the last place, they would find this one. All we had to do was survive until then.

  ***

  A couple nights later, my luck took a turn for the worse. As the sun was sinking behind the mountains, Travis came for me. He opened my door and motioned for him to come with me.

  I had given up on trying to guess what was coming next. Travis took my hand in his and led me out of the barn, across the scrubby vegetation in the yard and toward the house.

  I watched the back of Travis's head as we walked. This almost felt normal. A girl with her hand in that of a guy. There were certainly worse looking guys to be held captive by.

  We entered the house and walked into a cozy living room. Patterned area rugs covered a hardwood floor. Cushy armchairs and a cream-colored couch surrounded a large TV in the front corner. Above the couch, there was a giant elk head mounted on the wall. It was striking, if somewhat creepy.

  Travis led me down a hall, past the kitchen and a closet. After that we came to a bedroom. I remember that while the rest of the house had been hardwood, this bedroom and the others I could see farther down the hall were covered in carpet.

  Once inside, Travis pointed to a door. “That's the bathroom. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

  I was surprised. “Why?”

  Travis just shook his head and left, closing the door behind him.

  For a moment, I couldn't move. The room in no way fit with anything I knew about my captors. The bed was old, with a carved wooden headboard and footboard. On either side were end tables, each holding a lamp. There was a window over the bed, with blinds and sheer white curtains. On my right was a closet door and a dresser. One corner held a simple upholstered chair. On top of the dresser was a pillar candle with wax drips down its sides, and a small framed photograph that looked like a family portrait from decades ago.

  I sat on the bed. The softness of the mattress was glorious. I wanted so badly to lie down, cover myself in the creamy bedspread, and sleep for days. But then I realized how nasty I looked next to the immaculate comforter and I jumped up, looking around guiltily, checking for any dirt deposited by the seat of my jeans.

  Finally I moved into the bathroom. It was the standard setup, with toilet, sink over a pair of cabinets, and a tub. On the counter was a hairbrush, a comb, scissors, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. I heard a distant hum, and cold air blasted from the vent in the ceiling. For once, it felt good. We had been riding in the heat since this morning and I was even more sticky than normal.

  I didn't understand what was going on, but the offer of a bath was too good to ignore. I shed my clothes and stepped into the tub. The water was chilling at first, then hot.

  If I cried, no one would ever know, as my tears merely joined the hot water streaming down my face. I stood in the shower spray and sobbed, arms wrapped around my belly, feeling the divine droplets soaking away months of dirt and grime. The water at my feet was brown as it circled down to the drain.

  I cried until my sobs were wracking my body so hard that I could hardly stand. I leaned against the wall, not even trying to stop the tears.

  Oh God, I don't care if they kill me after this. I would die the happiest girl on earth. I don't know what this means, what is coming, and I don't care. Thank you. I have felt sunlight and tasted chocolate and stood under hot water. I had forgotten the beauty and the joy that life could hold. Thank you, God. Thank you for this.

  Once the water began to run clear, I found the bottle of shampoo and squirted a liberal amount into my hands, working it through my hair. I think my head had given up on producing grease a few months ago. Brown suds slid down my body to join the water around my feet. I washed my hair again and again, letting the glorious hot water rinse the soap from it each time. Finally it was clean. I was clean. I didn't even care that my legs hadn't seen a razor in almost a year. I was clean. It was the greatest luxury I could imagine.

  When I finally stepped, out, I was immediately chilled by the coldness of the air beyond the curtain. I took the toothbrush and paste and scrubbed my mouth until my gums bled. Then I took up the brush.

  It quickly became apparent that my hair was hopelessly matted. After just a few minutes, my scalp was sore and I had made no impression in the mass. Even tangled as it was, my hair fell to my hips. I stared at myself in the mirror.

  I looked better than half dead now, at least, with the dirt washed from my face. I don't know how long I stared at myself. My hair was a lost cause. It was heavy, and there were parts that even the shampoo couldn't reach, due to the severity of the matting.

  I regarded the scissors on the counter, my heart starting to pound a little. Finally, in a burst of defiance I picked them up. Defiance at whom, I wasn't quite sure. I set the blades to my hair just above my jawline, and squeezed.

  Snick. A chunk of hair hung loose. Snick. Another mat came free. I took a deep breath and sawed at the mass, even as my stomach churned. I sawed and hacked toward the back of my head. Then around, and up the other side.

  My eyes filled with tears as the scissors severed the last few strands and the entire mass of my hair was lying in my hands. Savagely I took up the hairbrush and dragged it through what remained. I ignored the pain in my scalp and pulled and tugged until all the tangles were gone.

  When I looked back at myself, a complete stranger stood in front of me. I had never had my hair above my shoulders before. I felt naked, exposed, vulnerable. I looked like a sort of deranged fairy that had been dragged from the woods. I tipped my head and looked at myself quizzically. Nope, ears weren't quite pointed enough. I laughed at my own thoughts, and turned to get dressed.

  It was only then that I realized that my clothes were gone.

  ***

  They had taken my clothes. There wasn't even a towel. I gripped the side of the sink and glared at my coiled hair which was now piled on the counter. I should have known it was too good to be true.

  Defeated, I left the bathroom. I climbed onto the bed and drew the covers over me. The sheets were cool and smooth, settling around me with a whisper. I barely even noticed.

  As I expected, the door soon opened. But the man who entered was not the one that I expected.

  “Travis?”

  Travis stepped in and closed the door. He stared at me as if he'd never seen me before. “What happened to your hair?”

  “I cut it.”

  “I liked your hair.” Travis stepped forward and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I wish you hadn't cut it.”

  “Too late now.” I pulled the covers up to my chin. “Where are my clothes?”

  “You will get them back soon.” Travis reached up and pulled his shirt over his head.

  My heart went cold. “Travis, what are you doing?”

  “Master says I did well by warning him of the police coming. He gave you to me as a reward.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  Travis didn't answer. He stood and pulled the blankets back, exposing me. I shrieked and reached out to take them back, but he held them out of my reach.

  “No, Travis. No, please don't do this.”

  “It's okay, Butterfly.” There was the clink of a belt buckle. “I won't hurt you. Not like Master does.”

  “No, Travis...” I began to cry as he advanced toward me.

  Chapter 19: Owned

  I soon learned that when Travis said that I had been “given” to him, he truly meant
it. I was one of Master's possessions, to be gifted at will. Travis took his new ownership to heart and treated me like some sort of pet.

  The next morning Travis came to me and woke me from my uneasy sleep amid the pile of blankets.

  I looked up with bleary eyes to see him standing in the doorway of the stall, hand outstretched. I cringed back, making myself as small as possible in the corner.

  Travis's voice had an edge of frustration. “Sarah, don't be silly. I'm not going to hurt you. Come on.”

  Cautiously, I rose and took his offered hand. He had a basket in the other, covered with a dish towel.

  Travis led me out of the barn and around a dusty track that led up the side of one of the hills. I followed, my hand still in his, carefully picking my way over the various rocks. He didn't seem to notice that I was barefoot, though yesterday he had given me a large t-shirt and yoga pants to wear. Both were far too big. Even with the drawstring cinched, I had to hold the pants up with my free hand to keep them from falling down.