Chained

by Escalera, Tessa

  “Sarah? Are you sick?”

  I stood with my hands on my knees, breathing deeply to quiet the spasms. The chill air felt good on my forehead. When I was sure I wouldn't throw up any more (at least for the moment), I stood up and pushed my bangs out of my face. At least this ugly short haircut was good for something...it didn't get in the way when I was sick.

  “I'm fine.”

  Travis grabbed my arm and turned me to look at him. “Obviously, you aren't. Don't lie to me.”

  I pulled my arm away and rubbed it where his fingers had left red marks. “I'm not sick, Travis. I'm pregnant.”

  “What? Why didn't you tell me?”

  He sounded angry. I took a step back, out of the way of his hands. “I'm sorry. I just figured it out not that long ago.”

  Travis surprised me by laughing and grabbing me up in a hug. “That's wonderful! You and I, we are going to have a baby together!”

  The thought made me feel like vomiting again. “I guess so.”

  “This is great! Why aren't you happy?”

  No, no, no. No tears. I stared at the ground, digging at the dust with my toes. “I'm happy, Travis.”

  “You don't look happy.”

  Desperate to convince him, I stepped forward and put my arms around his waist. “I'm happy, Travis. I just don't feel well.”

  Travis embraced me tightly, and I forced myself to relax. “I'm sorry. You should go back inside and rest. I'm sure you are tired.”

  I nodded, turning around quickly to hide the tears in my eyes. I walked as quickly back to the house as I dared.

  I hid in the bathtub, letting the hot droplets from the shower run down my face. This way, if I cried, Travis couldn't tell. Travis needed to think I loved him, that I was able to be trusted. He wouldn't understand why I wasn't happy. His abuse-warped mind truly wasn't capable of seeing why this pregnancy was causing me such agony.

  September 30th: It snowed last night. Big, fat flakes that covered the ground in a matter of minutes. Out on the plains, the ever-present wind swept it all away in a matter of hours, but we are protected here and I got to walk across pure, unspoiled snow.

  We hardly ever get snow at home. I've never seen it so early in the season.

  I think snow is like the heart of a child. White, pure, perfect. But each footstep puts a mark on it that can never be taken away. It can be filled in by new snow, but it won't ever be gone. Even one spot of mud or dirt spoils the whole field.

  Travis's heart has been trampled by a herd of muddy cows, if that's the case.

  Whoa. I'm even starting to talk like he does. That gives me the shivers.

  The next night, Master returned home unexpectedly. I was lying curled up in my bed, trying to sleep despite the nausea. I was half convinced I just needed to sleep on the floor of the bathroom for the next few weeks.

  The front door slammed closed.

  “Travis!”

  “Yes, Master?” Travis's voice came from down the hall.

  “The girl's jacket is here. I told you to keep her in the barn. Just because she's yours doesn't mean I want her in here, contaminating my house.”

  Travis sounded like he was in the living room now. “Father, she's pregnant.”

  “So? Doesn't mean we're gonna treat her like she's one of us.”

  “She's really sick. I'm afraid she will lose the child if she has to stay in the barn.”

  Master laughed, an ominous sound. There was a sharp crack, and a cry from Travis. “What? Your pet dog is whelping, and suddenly you feel like talking back? I brought you into this world, boy. Don't think I won't take you out of it. With you gone, who's gonna feed and pet your little dog?”

  “I'm sorry, Master.”

  Thud. “You better be, boy! Haven't I ever taught you anything about respect?”

  There was pain in Travis's voice. “I meant no disrespect, Master.”

  Thud. “I don't care what you 'intended', boy. Whether you meant to do something or not doesn't change the fact it's been done.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Thud. “Now get out of my sight.”

  A few seconds later, Master stomped by the door, and soon afterward, Travis appeared in the doorway.

  Hurt people hurt people. There were tears in the younger man's eyes, and he avoided my silent gaze as he walked to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

  Around the time I was starting to wonder if I shouldn't be here when he came out, the door opened and Travis climbed into the bed with me. His eyes were red and swollen.

  “Are you okay?”

  Travis leaned back against the headboard, his arms crossed over his stomach. He shrugged.

  “I don't want to cause problems. If you want me to go back to the barn...”

  Travis turned and gripped my arm so fast that tears came to my eyes. “Don't,” he said, desperation in his voice. “I want you here.”

  “But if your father...”

  “He won't hurt you while you're pregnant.”

  “Travis...”

  “What?”

  I shouldn't be saying this. This was my captor, not my friend. Regardless, in that moment I felt a kinship with this young man, whose only experience of family had been twenty years of fear and pain.

  “Travis, what your dad does...that's not love. You know that, right? You are an adult. You don't have to stay here.”

  “Master is the only person who has ever loved me. He's the only person that has always been here for me. Why would I leave?”

  Tears burned behind my eyes. “Oh...Travis. There is so much more than love to this. Love doesn't have to hurt like this.”

  “Master only hurts me because he cares about me.”

  A single, traitorous tear ran down my cheek. I reached out and touched Travis's face with gentle fingers. “It doesn't have to be this way.”

  He pushed my hand away. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

  “Yes I do. I had wonderful parents. Parents that loved me and cared for me. Parents that didn't make me afraid of them.”

  I was losing him. His face was closed, cold. “Are you telling me your parents never disciplined you? Spanked you?”

  “Well, yes, but...”

  “How is that different? They disciplined you to make you act better because they cared about you. My father does the same thing.”

  “You shouldn't have to be afraid of someone who claims to love you. That's not love.”

  I knew that glint in his eye. “Everyone loves differently. Who is to say Master's way is wrong and yours is right? You don't know him.”

  I couldn't push him any farther.

  How in the world do you explain the difference between discipline and abuse to someone who has only ever known the latter? Explaining love to one who has never seen it is like explaining music to a deaf person, describing a painting to someone who cannot see. The mind cannot comprehend what it has never experienced.

  Chapter 24: On the Move

  Travis fell asleep on the bed next to me. I couldn't sleep with him there. I pulled out my journal and just stared at it for a while, for once unable to think of anything to write. I stuck the book back in its hiding place beneath the bathroom sink, behind the towels.

  I wandered to the window and looked through the sheer curtains out at the patchy snow that glistened in the moonlight. It would probably all melt tomorrow, leaving us with brown slush instead of brown dust.

  I was afraid to sleep in the living room again, lest Master catch me there. Travis's trust for me was growing, even though it was a slow process. Soon he would slip up, give me my chance.

  I sat down on the bed, leaning back against the head board and closing my eyes. Maybe if I just tried to pretend he wasn't here, I could fall asleep. Pretend I was all alone....

  ***

  “Wake up.” I was being shaken roughly, and I sat up as quickly as I could. It was Master standing over me.

  Without giving me time to wonder what he was about to do to me, he th
rew my sweater into my arms.

  “Travis! Wake up!” He bellowed.

  Travis sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What's going on?”

  “That girl you were talking to. You're going to come along and help me get her.”

  “Again?”

  Master hauled me to my feet. “Put your sweater on. Don't need you dying on the truck.” To Travis: “Yes, again. If you don't like it, maybe you should stop chatting up girls in other states. Let's go, son, before I decide to leave your pet here to starve.”

  Travis didn't need to be told again. He leaped up and took my hand as we quickly made our way through the house. He led me to the little blue pickup truck and climbed into the middle seat, while I took the one closest to the passenger door. Master emerged from the barn carrying Rachel, whom he set in the truck bed. She appeared almost catatonic, barely moving when he unceremoniously dumped her into the truck before climbing into the driver's seat.

  The truck rumbled to life and we took off down the hill. Master's semi truck sat at the bottom of the incline, the trailer gleaming silver in the moonlight.

  Master climbed out and Travis motioned for me to do the same. The two men pulled the massive doors open and Travis helped me climb in as Master returned to the pickup to get Rachel.

  “It's going to be okay,” Travis reassured me, mistaking my expression. I looked around, hoping to see the headlights of rescue vehicles in the distance, but all was dark and still.

  Soon I sat huddled among boxes on the trailer. Rachel was lying on blankets closer to the door. Master and Travis closed the trailer doors, leaving us in pitch darkness. I heard them climb into the truck cab and after a moment, we roared into motion.

  The dark and the bumpy motion combined to give me the worse case of motion sickness of my life. I did my best not to throw up on myself, though I cringed at the thought of Master discovering what had happened to some of his boxes.

  After what seemed like hours, we pulled onto the highway. I breathed a sigh of relief that we were no longer being shaken around like eagerly anticipated Christmas presents. It was still dark, it was cold and uncomfortable, and the trailer smelled bad, but at least I might be able to refrain from throwing up again.

  Rachel stirred and cried out something incomprehensible. I hadn't heard a coherent sentence from her since the night Tanya died. If she hadn't just been found to be pregnant, Master would have gotten rid of her already. She would probably be dead.

  I had no idea how long we traveled in the truck. Thin light was beginning to show through cracks in the door by the time we pulled onto some sort of bumpy surface, then stopped. After a few moments the trailer door clanked open, and Travis stood framed in the sudden light. He had what looked like a laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

  I blinked at him, waiting for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I saw the seedy-looking motel behind him. “What's going on?”

  “Master likes to drive at night. We'll stay here for a few hours. Can you walk?”

  Though I was sore and stiff, I found that I could in fact walk. “Isn't he afraid you'll be caught?”

  Travis pulled up his shirt to show the gun shoved in his belt. “I would recommend you not try to do anything to get us caught. I prefer not to leave trails of bodies, but I will if you force me to.”

  I swallowed hard and jumped down silently from the trailer. “Got it.” What else was there to say? Sure, go ahead and shoot a bunch of people. I don't care, as long as I get my freedom. No. I wouldn't be responsible for any more death.

  Travis reached in and scooped Rachel into his arms. Her head lolled against his chest like that of a rag doll. Didn't this motel have security cameras? Surely someone had to think a man carrying an unconscious woman dressed in a nightgown was suspicious...

  As I soon learned, this was one of the motels where no information was volunteered, and no questions were asked. Master took Rachel into one room, and Travis and I had another.

  I watched Master carry the limp girl into his room, and I worried. It wasn't like he'd never been alone with her before. This just seemed different somehow.

  I was ushered into the motel room in front of Travis. He locked the door behind us, then the deadbolt, then put the chain in the groove.

  My heart sank when I saw the room. There was only one bed.

  Travis didn't seem to notice my discomfort. He tossed the bag on the bed and pulled a laptop computer from it.

  “What's the problem?” I focused on Travis, when he asked the question, suddenly realizing that I was still standing awkwardly by the door.

  “Oh. Sorry. It's nothing.” I moved forward, perching on the corner of the bed that was the farthest away from him. “Are we really going to capture another girl?”

  “Yes.”

  I stared at my folded hands.

  “Sarah? What's the problem?”

  “I just don't understand. Why do you need to take another girl prisoner?”

  “I told you. We are rescuing them from bad situations. We aren't capturing them.”

  “I wasn't in a bad situation.” Let's completely ignore how crazy his statement is for the moment...

  Travis shrugged, not looking up from the computer. “You were special.”

  Tears immediately filled my eyes. Stupid hormones. “I don't want to be special. I just want to go home.”

  Travis slammed the laptop lid shut. “If your home life had really been so wonderful, why were you online searching for someone to love you? You say you know so much more about love than me, but you found me on a website devoted to lonely people looking for something to make them happy.”

  It was a dare. A stupid, childish dare. I lost my life over a dare.

  After a few moments in which I failed to think of a “safe” reply, Travis tossed the laptop onto the bed and sat leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. “You should be grateful. There are many men on that site that would have raped you and then killed you and left your body in a ditch. We have fed you, clothed you, given you a home.”

  “Grateful? I should be grateful that you beat me every time I step out of line?”

  A decidedly non-handsome snarl crossed Travis's face as he leapt up from the bed and came around to my corner. He pushed me back onto the mattress, a hand on either side of my head as he practically spit in my face. “You would be dead if it weren't for me. After your escape attempt, Master wanted to kill you. I convinced him that it wasn't worth losing the money your baby would bring. If you hadn't been pregnant, you would have died that night. And you should be grateful that Master has a short memory of wrongs, or you would have been dead the moment that child left your body. So, grateful? Yes, you should be. If not to Master, then to me, because I am the only reason you are alive.”

  My bravado began to fail with Travis's angry face in mine. My brain was starting to shut down. I just stared into his eyes, unable to form a response, until he pushed himself up and walked over to stare out the window.

  I decided it was wisest not to respond to Travis on the subject. “I'm going to take a shower.”

  There was no answer as I went into the bathroom and closed the door. It wasn't until the hot water beat on the top of my head that I allowed the tears to fall. Being here, out in the real world--so close to freedom and yet so far--it was almost harder than being captive in the middle of nowhere. I could run away if I wanted. I could find a way. But this time, rather than concrete walls or miles of wilderness, I was restrained by my sense of morality. The threat of more people dying because of me was a shackle as secure and cold and heavy as chains of iron.

  After only a few hours of sleep, I woke to Travis shaking my shoulder. He handed me a bag of gas station snacks and bottles of soda, before taking me by the arm and leading me back to the truck. I cast one last, longing glance at the empty parking lot and the tantalizing sight of the gas station next to the motel, so close and yet so inaccessible. With a heavy heart I climbed into the back of the truck and, as Rachel was carried in, moved toward the fr
ont of the trailer. The heavier furniture was securely tied with ropes to prevent it from moving around during travel. I pulled boxes out from beneath an ornate dining room table and crawled underneath into the little space, spreading my sweater on the floor.

  My body was aching from lack of sleep. Pregnancy insomnia was at its height, and the constant nausea didn't help. I curled up in my little space, tucking the bag of food in between a couple of boxes.