Page 2 of Bones
The “boy” is out of the vehicle and within moments, he’s opening the warehouse door for us. I don’t even bother to look around the space, I won’t be here long enough to enjoy it, so what’s the point. I do notice there are other women scattered around, dressed scantily. Other “products” I’m sure. I’m not even surprised at this point. I’m used to men telling me one thing while doing another. Sweet lies taste better going down.
“Shit.” The driver states as he sees what I see. “Get some fuckin’ clothes on for God sakes.” He grunts as he waves his hands at the girls. They seem to give him a curious look, not moving right away to do as told. Hmm… so the punishment must not be too bad if the women are willing to rebel. “Now!” he roars, irritation lacing his words. Causing the girls behind me to whimper and scurry back toward the door and away from his anger. I don’t bother moving, running never stops the punishment only delays it, and in my experience usually makes it worse. My shoulders drop, my tension easing at the familiarity. This… this I am used too. It’s almost comforting, knowing what to expect. The gentle kindness is what scares me the most. It’s like how he was… before I was sold for the first time. I shake my head, not wanting to reminisce on the past. The scantily clad women take off, presumably to do as they are told.
He must realize his mistake, because when he whips around his eyes wide, and his hands are yanking at his hair, causing it to stand up at odd angles. His eyes flick behind me as he takes in the fact the girls are no longer behind us. “Shit. Fuck,” he hisses, closing his eyes. He takes a step forward as if he wants to go get the girls back, but I put my hand up to stop him. His eyes widen at my action, and I shake my head, remaining silent. “I didn’t mean to scare them. I just didn’t want them to see that shit.” He reasons, blowing out a breath as he tosses a hand behind him indicating where the women had just been. I study him curiously. Why would he be worried about what we saw? Or even about scaring us; isn’t that the point? Plus, I’m the one usually in their position, barely clothed and on display before I could even fit into a bra. Best we see the truth now.
“What the fuck, Bones?” An older man growls as he steps into the converted warehouse. “The girls are out there clumped together, cryin’. What the fuck did you do?” He steps closer to the kid whose name is Bones, apparently. I watch as he runs his hands through his dark hair again, displacing it. It seems to be a tic when he’s uncomfortable or nervous. I mentally tuck that away for later.
“The fuckin’ sweet butts were half naked all over the fuckin’ place. I didn’t want the girls seein’ that and thinkin that’s what they were in for.” He grunts, frustrated with himself or the situation, I can’t be sure, maybe both. The older man blows out a breath, the stench of cigarettes wisps past my face with it as I continue to observe the situation.
“I get it, but you have to be careful. These girls are like a bunch’a skittish kittens,” he says, not even acknowledging that said “kitten” is standing right here. That’s alright I’m used to being spoken about like I’m not there. Hell, better to be invisible than seen; being seen means pain.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Bones says, fully chastised. “I’ll fix it.” He mumbles as he trudges off to do just that. I remain still, hoping that if I’m still enough the older man won’t notice me. I’m proven wrong when a moment later he spots me.
“Do you want to shower or eat first?” the old man asks, his voice taking on a softer timbre or at least, as much as he can with the natural rasp that comes from smoking for most of your life. He’s asking me what I want? My brows furrow, is this some kind of trick? If I answer incorrectly, will he hit me? I take a step back, unsure what to do or say at this point. They’ve told us they won’t hurt us, but I’ve yet to hear anyone actually say those words and mean them. It’s always meant to make us complacent, to manipulate us into a false sense of security. The older man closes his eyes for a minute as if he’s struggling with something before blowing out another cigarette laced breath.
“Food first.” He finally decides, opening his eyes and taking off toward a hallway against the back wall. I don’t follow, unsure what to do.
Whimpers and sniffling come from the now open door at my back. I turn in time to see the other girls reluctantly walking back into the warehouse. Bones following behind them like someone kicked his dog or maybe he’s the kicked dog? I’m not sure what to make of him. He seems different from the rest of them, and not just in age but in… I don’t know… roughness maybe.
The girls stand there, huddled together like cattle. A part of me feels bad for them, the empathetic part of me that still remains, I suppose. The part of me that remembers the fear and the feelings that are racing through their heads right now. But I can’t bring myself to give them false hope. To nurture what was physically stomped out of me. Hope is a dangerous thing, more dangerous than anything the men could do to us. Hope implies there’s a way out. There isn’t; it’s just an infinite loop of unending pain and torture.
Well… I’m already here and they will do with me what they want anyways, so, I decide to follow where the older man had disappeared off to.
I’m somewhat surprised when I discover a large open concept kitchen, the space reminiscent of a school cafeteria… or jail. The smell of eggs and bacon perfumes the air and causes my mouth to salivate as I fight to keep the drool in my mouth. It’s been years since I’ve had an actual meal, more than just scraps off my masters’ plate. Being fed like a dog, but only when obedient. Will they do that too? Are we to eat off the floor? I glance down, at least it looks somewhat clean. After a moment’s hesitation, I kneel next to a chair at one of the tables, assuming my position on the floor. An obedient slave is not seen or heard. Most master’s would be ecstatic to have a new girl already know her rightful place. I can only hope my new owners also appreciate it.
I hear as Bones walks in a moment later with the other girls. A muffled curse roughly expels from his lips. I make sure to keep my eyes locked on the floor, not daring to make eye contact with anyone. Allowing my body to go numb, slipping into that headspace that I’ve so desperately clung to since I’d found it. My safe haven, the beautiful blank expanse of blissful nothingness, embracing me with its smooth warmth, like when you slip into a hot bath. It’s taken years to be able to blank out while still remaining aware of my surroundings. I learned early on that if I let it swallow me completely, I couldn’t anticipate the actions I needed to take in order to protect myself externally. My mind was safe but at the expense of my body.
I remain stone still as a hand comes to rest gently on my shoulder, not allowing myself to flinch. “Stand up, you don’t need to do that,” Bones whispers as if he’s afraid to frighten me. I don’t feel fear anymore, I don’t feel anything, anymore. What do I have to fear when everything that could possibly happen to me already has. My whole life is a literal nightmare, but it’s all I remember, all I’ve ever known. When you’re only used to darkness you come to accept it, there’s nothing else to fear in the shadows. I’m already irrevocably broken.
I remain where I am, eyes glued to the floor, not trusting what he’s saying.
“Fuck.” A deep voice grunts as the rest of the guys that road their motorcycles beside us enter the kitchen. I can’t be sure who said it, but I can hear what sounds like sadness in it. “Get Elana.” The same voice says. My head remains bowed, not trusting any of this. Is this some kind of trick? Trying to test my obedience?
I hear a gasp and the clicking of heels against the concrete floor before Bones’ hand lifts off me and is replaced by a softer one. The smell of floral perfume assaults my nose seconds before I hear a gentle voice. “Are you okay?” The distinctly female voice asks. What am I supposed to say to that? I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do. Why isn’t she on the floor? My mind races, but I don’t dare move or speak. I feel more than see her head whip around like she’s looking for an explanation that no one seems able to give.
“Why the fuck is she on the floor?” Her voice hisses and my eyes widen. When one of the men steps forward, I slowly lean farther away from her, not wanting to accidently be hit when her punishment ensues.
“We don’t know, that’s what we were hoping you could figure out.” The deep voice that seems to be in charge says. She blows out a breath before leaning in closer to me.
“Please get off the floor. It’s okay, your safe now.” Her voice cracks and I can hear the pain in it and that’s enough to get me to slightly lift my eyes, peering at her from under my lashes discreetly. She gives me a soft smile like she’s trying to coax a frightened animal to come closer. I subtly shake my head no, my eyes meeting the hard floor once again.
“She was there longer than us.” A new voice breaks through the uncomfortable silence, the voice so quiet I can hardly hear it. The atmosphere seems to shift.
“What do you mean?” The female—that I’m assuming is Elana—speaks to the new voice that I recognize as one of the girls I was in the crate with. Out of the corner of my eye I see her shrug before she lowers her eyes, afraid she’s said too much.
“Please tell us. We just want to help you. To know what happened,” Bones says, his voice desperate. I fight the urge to lift my head and take in his face. The promise of punishment helps me keep my reaction in check.
“We were all captured by the guys that put us in the crate…s-she was already there. B-but I don’t know for how long.” She whispers, the thread of hope blooming in her words. That they genuinely want to help us. I almost scoff. They always seem genuine until you let your guard down, then you are just easier to manipulate. Tricks, all of it.
Elana, who’s still crouched in front of me, looks only slightly older than Bones, and for a second, I wonder if they are together. Not like that matters. I’m a servant, a slave to be used as such, and I have long since learned my place. I am to be available to anyone for anything. You don’t have relationships with the help. Relationships imply feelings and caring, things I haven’t felt since him.
The silence it broken once again when the older man cooking clears his throat and says, “Breakfasts ready.” His voice is a forced jovial that falls flat in the tension that blankets the room.
People move around me, no longer trying to get me to stand as they sit in the surrounding chairs and start to eat. My eyes remain locked on the floor, hoping they hurry so I can eat what little is left off their plates before I clean them. Waiting patiently for my commands.
I drift into my blissful blankness, blocking out the delicious smells and forcing my hunger down. The clattering of silverware on plates is a familiar sound that’s oddly comforting. As I cling to the nothingness, flashes of a woman who looks oddly familiar flashes through my mind. I’ve seen her a handful of times in my mind since this whole thing started. I have no clue who she is, just the odd feeling of recognition, her similar emerald, green eyes and dirty blonde hair, and adoring smile on her face as she looks at me fondly. The image always flickers like the thought is clinging to life; or a memory that is slowly fading, desperately fighting to remain deep within my subconscious. Another face, this one of a little girl in a pretty yellow flower dress, a table set for tea, Barbies and stuffed animals propped on chairs around the table. She laughs as she kicks her pinky out while holding the tiny teacup in her small hands. Her light brown waves messy around her head as if it hadn’t been brushed. Angie. I don’t know how I remember that name, but I instinctually know it belongs to the little girl.
Sometimes in these moments of emptiness, I wonder if my brain is trying to remind me of something. What? I have no clue, but I cling to these memories, hoping I will remember what they meant to me at one point. Perhaps a past life? I hope my next life is better than this one. I really hope this one ends soon.
