Page 80 of Heavy
My shout of “Mom!” is muffled by his tightening hand.
She doesn’t even move, just waves her hand as though she couldn’t be bothered.
“This ain’t no place for a little girl, Jasmine,” the man behind me says, before lifting me off the ground and dragging me down the hall.
I’m terrified, but even still, tears don’t come to my eyes.
I keep screaming, kicking, and using whatever I can to free myself. The wall is my only aid, and at one point, I kick so hard his shoulder slams into the opposite one.
He curses and turns me around in his arms, tossing me over his shoulder. I bang hard on his back, then his head, but it all goes ignored as we turn into a room. My entire body shakes uncontrollably.
“No, no, no—no—no—no—no! NO! Please, no!”
I grab the doorframe as we enter, my nails digging hard into the hollow wood. “Let me go! No, no! Mom! Mom! Help!”
His rough grunt accompanies him tearing me from my hold.
As I’m shoved from his shoulder, he throws me onto a mattress that has no spring. It’s hard, as though he threw me to the solid floor.
I cower back, looking up at the man. He’s got a bored expression, tall and wide, with a gut I’ve started to see my mom growing. Then he licks his lips and I feel nausea rolling from my stomach straight to my throat.
“You look just like Jasmine.” He turns away from me and heads to the door. “The guys are gonna love that.” As he disappears out the door and slams it shut, I hear a click, and then another one.
I scramble off the bed and go straight to the doorknob, jiggling it and pulling. It’s locked, and no matter how hard I pull on it, there is no give.
“Mom! Mom! Help, Mom, please!!” All I hear is laughing, and it’s fading further and further away.
I turn quickly, looking around the room that smells of mildew and smoke. It’s too dark to see anything, and when I feel around for a light switch and click it, nothing illuminates.
My knees want to buckle, to drop me and give up, but I can’t. Dad would tell me to find a way. To rely only on myself if it came down to it, because the only person that wouldn’t disappoint me, was me.
There is a window, and when I get to it and open it, I see metal bars in my way. I curse my body, because at the ripe age of twelve, my boobs began to come in. Now at fifteen, I’m a C cup and will absolutely not fit through these.
I’m going to try, I can’t just sit here and wait for them or my mom. I’ll run and hope to God that there is someone good out there that will hear my cries for help.
I shift up onto my butt and turn, shoving my shoulder through two of the bars. I can already tell I won’t fit, the moment I get my head to it, both sides squeeze at my temples.
Grabbing the bars, I begin pulling them apart. There is a slight give, which has me hoping. They are parts that are rusted, which has me searching for the weakest of them.
I'm grateful for the strength sports have given me; they've kept me steady, even when I'm terrified. I want to scream for help, but that would only bring them here faster. My mind might be teetering on the edge of collapse, but my body knows it's not time to give up yet.
One of the last two bars on the right are worse than the rest, and I put one of my heels against it, then pull in the opposite direction on the other. The metal whines, and I clench my teeth through a grunt.
There… there…
The metal bends, and as I put every inch of strength I have behind it, the one I’m holding gives and the top breaks apart from the rest of the structure. I’m thrown backward, landing hard on my spine against something solid. When I hit the ground with a loud thud, a sharp whimper escapes me, pain radiating from the impact.
I’m shaking as I push myself up, my hand pressing against the spot where the impact landed, feeling a bruise already forming. Limping, I grip the edge of the bed to help haul myself back up toward the window, my legs almost useless from the shock. That hit sent a piercing pain straight through them. I have no doubt they will go numb any second.
Adrenaline shoots through me as the door behind me flies open. When I look back and it’s not my mom, I’m moving as quickly as I can through the metal bars.
“Get back here!”
I let out a scream so loud it cracks in my throat, and I swear I’m free, the cool air against my bare legs feeling incredible. Except just as I’m squeezing my chest through, a grip on my hair stops my escape.
“Where the fuck are you going?” It’s not the first guy’s voice, but it could be Santa Claus for all I care, and I’d still fight.
“You gonna just leave your poor mom like this?” I grab at the guy’s hand at my hair, scratching and drawing blood as I half hang out the window.
