#ghosted

“Oh hey!” he replied, brightly. He always seemed so excited to see another human. You’d spent your whole trip trying to tell yourself that he was just very lonely and you should be gentle with him. “Just wanted to check on the generator. Make sure it’s holding up well in this cold.”

“Yup! All good.” You gestured to the couple lamps scattered through the single room. “Lights are on, it’s warm and toasty in here. Everything’s fine.” You took a small step forward, your hand on the door, hoping he’d take the hint. But, of course, he didn’t. He never did. 

“What about groceries? You have everything you need? I could make another trek into town today.”

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay. I’m still making my way through the last haul you brought in. I’m good. You’ve taken very good care of me.”

He went stock still at that. It was odd, but almost everything he did struck you as odd. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice almost pleading.

“Yeah, of course. Absolutely. You’ll be getting a five star review from me. Promise.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, great!” He said, sort of shaking himself, almost like he was coming out of a trance or something. But before you had a chance to dwell on how strange that was, he’d moved on. “You going for a hike?”

“Uh, huh,” you said, grabbing your backpack from where it rested on the floor next to the dresser. You took another step forward, hoping to force Cole out of the doorway. “Figured I’d try one of the forest trails today.”

He didn’t move. “Cold day for it.”

“I’m all bundled up. I’ll be fine.” You took another step forward. You were starting to feel a little trapped.

His face suddenly lit up. “You should come by the farmhouse when you’re done. I could make you some hot chocolate to warm you up.”

“Oh, sure! Maybe!” Another step forward. “But probably not if it’s getting dark. Got plans to snuggle up with a book here tonight and go to bed early.”

“Oh yeah. That sounds really nice. Well, if you’re able, I’ll be there.”

“Okay, Cole. Thanks! For everything. But I’m gonna head out now.” He just blinked at you, so you gestured to the doorway and the wide expanse waiting for you outside.

“Oh! Right! Of course!” He finally backed up to let you out. “Well, I’ll just be up at the house. Holler if you need anything.”

“Will do, Cole. I know where to find you.”

He finally stepped away, letting you leave the cabin. You watched him as he got on his little snowmobile and drove back to the main house. He was very, very sweet (and kind of hot with the dark beard and the light eyes and the broad shoulders), but he had the social awareness of a gnat.

This was supposed to have been your retreat from civilization.

You were burned out. Too much work, too much relationship drama, too much everything. You needed a break. A big one.

So you filed a PTO request for two weeks off in the middle of winter and began to search for a secluded nature retreat. 

You thought you’d found a great one. A tiny home done up to resemble a rustic, cozy cabin. Only room enough for you. Located on the edge of dense woods, it had access to several hiking trails, a sledding hill, a skating pond, and a gorgeous lake. No internet, no cell signal, no neighbors. A great environment to completely unplug, reconnect with yourself, and recharge. It was perfect.

Well. It was almost perfect, as it turned out. Your cabin, you discovered when you got there, was one of three in a little cluster on the property. Yours was the only one currently booked, but there was still a neighbor to worry about. Cole, the proprietor, lived in a farmhouse a few acres away. But it felt much closer with how often you saw him. You didn’t think he’d gone a single day without stopping by your little cabin at least once. 

You tried to be kind. He’d told you on one of your first days that this place used to belong to his parents and they’d left it to him when they’d died. The isolation you saw as a nice little break from reality was what he lived with all the time. He must be desperate for company, especially in the depths of winter. So you excused the way he just kept popping over to make sure you had everything you needed, or how he’d interrupt your hikes to see if you were enjoying the view. Or when he’d knock on the door during your morning meditation to bring you breakfast. He was lonely. You felt sorry for him. So you could tolerate his overly friendly behavior. This trip may not have been the solitary paradise you’d envisioned, but it was still the rejuvenating break you’d needed. Everything was fine.

The next day, Cole, of course, found you as you were strapping on ice skates to go out on the frozen pond. “You didn’t come by the house last night.”

“No, I didn’t,” you confirmed, making sure to give him a bright smile to avoid any awkwardness. “I lost track of time on my hike, and it was already dark by the time I got back.” You didn’t apologize. You hadn’t said you definitely would.

“I missed you,” he said quietly, and that stopped you in your tracks. “Your stay here is almost over. I gotta soak up all the quality time with you that I can.”

That– that was a joke, right? Yeah, it had to be. Just a joke, it was fine. You gave him a good–natured chuckle. “Oh,” you said, “I’m sure you’ll be happy to be rid of me in a few days. A lot less work when no one’s here, huh?”

“I don’t know about that,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “It’s been really nice having you here.”

“Aw,” you smiled again, a little more sincere this time. “Thanks, Cole! It’s been a really great trip. I’ll be sad to leave.” Something hopeful flashed across his face before disappearing quickly. “Well,” you said as you stood up on the skates, “I’ll leave you to your work. Thanks again for everything.” Then you skated off.

You were so absorbed in your exercise and the bracing cold that you didn’t notice just how long he stood there and watched you skate.

You weren’t leaving until the next morning, but you’d started gathering your things together. Even though the cabin was just a single room, you’d still managed to spread out considerably over the last week. It was good to do this now, so you wouldn’t have to scramble before you left in the morning.

Like clockwork, there was a knock at the door. It almost felt a little sentimental. This was the last day of your trip. You were about to take your last hike here. And now Cole was bothering you for the last time. You smiled to yourself. Now that you were about to leave, now that you’d fully adjusted to the reality of your trip instead of the ideal fantasy that’d been in your head, you could admit that he had an awkward charm to him. At the very least, he’d make for a sweet story once you were back in the real world.

You opened the door with a genuine, warm grin. “Morning, Cole!” you greeted him. “What can I do you for?”

His answering smile couldn’t match your warmth. It had a brittle edge to it, almost… sad. His eyes cast around the room behind you. “You’re packing up already?” he asked in lieu of a greeting, alarmed. “I thought you weren’t leaving until tomorrow?”

“That’s still the plan! Just trying to get everything together while I can take my time with it.”

He didn’t say anything in response, just continued to look around, eyes almost seeming to catalog all of your things. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat pointedly that he focused on you again. “What’s on the docket for your last day, then?” he asked.

“One last hike to the lookout,” you told him. “Packed my camera, so gonna try to get some good pictures before the sun fully crests.”

He nodded absently. “You’ve been a really great guest,” he said with a conviction that would have felt strange from anyone else, but you were finally getting used to your host.

“Thanks, Cole. That’s so sweet of you,” you said sincerely. “I’ve really enjoyed staying here. I almost wish I didn’t have to leave. I don’t know how I’m going to go back to the real world after such a peaceful two weeks.”

Cole took a very long time to respond, just staring at you instead. Then he nodded to himself. Almost like he’d made a decision. Pulling a thermos out of his bag, he changed the subject without any warning at all. “I brought you some hot chocolate,” he said, thrusting the thermos at you. “My mom’s old recipe. Thought I’d bring it by before you left since you didn’t get to try it the other night.”

“Oh, okay,” you took the bottle from him, not knowing what else to do. “Thank you! That–  That’s really nice of you.”

“Maybe it can keep you warm on your hike,” he offered.

“Oh yeah! That’s really thoughtful of you. Thanks!” You smiled broadly.

Cole didn’t move, just stared at you expectantly when you didn’t do anything with the thermos. “You should try it,” he said lowly, almost pushy.

“Oh, sure.” You awkwardly unscrewed the cap under his watchful gaze. You took a cautious sip. It was very sweet, but it had an undertone of spice, and it was very warm. You probably would take it with you on your hike. That wasn’t a bad idea. “It’s delicious, Cole. Thank you so much!”

He beamed at you in return, but you couldn’t help noticing something slightly melancholy underneath. “Have a great hike,” he said, always so sincere. “I’ll see you tomorrow for checkout.”

Something was very wrong. 

You’d made it to the lookout and gotten some really great pictures. You’d sat and drank your hot chocolate and had taken a moment to say goodbye to this place. 

It was when you’d begun your hike back that you’d started feeling off. 

Your skin had gotten clammy. Your vision had started to swim. Your limbs felt weird. And you’d started to sweat. Even though it was so cold out. Even though it had started to snow, harder with each passing minute. It was snowing so hard out—it’d started so suddenly—and you were all alone and your insides were turning to jelly and you didn’t know which way was up. And you were all alone. You were all alone.

You fell to your knees just as your stomach emptied its contents. Your face was so wet, but you didn’t know if that was from snow or sweat or tears. You tried to call out for help, but you couldn’t get your voice to work. You’d never been so scared. What was happening? Were you going to die out here?

Something touched you. You would have jumped if you’d had the strength. You tried to turn your head to look but you could barely get your muscles to work. “Oh sweetheart,” a voice spoke from… somewhere. You were so dizzy and cloudy you couldn’t quite tell. “It hit you pretty hard, huh?” You didn’t know what the voice, a man, was talking about. There was guilt and sadness in his tone. You didn’t understand. Suddenly you were moving off the ground. You cried out, but he hushed you gently. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.” 

You finally placed his voice, as he carried you over to his snowmobile. Cole. It was Cole. He’d come to save you. That was your last conscious thought as he drove you down the trail.

Time passed strangely as you moved in and out of consciousness. You were in a dense fog, only able to pick up on sensations rather than details. You ached. You toggled wildly between chills and fever. You dreamed in shapes and colors. There were hands on you sometimes. Soft. Gentle. Everywhere. There was a voice in your ear always. Soothing. Comforting. You weren’t sure what the difference was between being awake and asleep. You layed on a cloud.

You had no idea how much time had passed when you finally woke up for real. Or where you were. Or how you had gotten here.

You were in a large bedroom with wood paneling and a slanted ceiling. The bed was so soft you thought you might sink into it. A clearly homemade quilt was on top of you, a patchwork of pinks and greens and blues with delicate flowers stitched across it. There was a glass of water on the bedside table next to you. On the nightstand was a copy of The Hobbit and a pair of reading glasses.

You were wearing a pink nightgown, frilly. It wasn’t like anything you owned. Someone had changed your clothes. Undressed you.

The door opened, and you pushed yourself back into the headboard. Cole came in, carrying a tray with more water, a Gatorade, and a bowl of soup. His face lit up at the sight of you.

“Oh, you’re awake! And you’re looking pretty lucid. That’s great news!” He set the tray down on your nightstand and immediately moved to press the back of his hand to your forehead. You tried to shy away, but it didn’t do any good. “Clammy,” he said, as he removed his hand, “but you aren’t burning up anymore. Thank goodness.”

“What–“ you started, but it came out as a croak. Your throat was bone-dry and your voice was so rough. You tried again. “What happened?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Cole said as he sat down on the bed right next to your hip. He was so close. “You got really sick on your hike. Thank god I found you when I did! You were collapsed and barely conscious. I’ve been taking care of you.”

You took a breath. You still felt so fuzzy. You looked around you again. This must be the farmhouse. “Why aren’t I in a hospital, if I was so sick?”

He stood back up, moving to the tray he’d brought in. “Oh, the snowstorm. All the roads are completely impassable. I had to bring you back here. Don’t worry, I took such good care of you.”

“How long?” you asked, terrified of the answer without fully knowing why.

“You’ve been in and out for the last three days.”

“Oh my god,” you tried to sit up, in a panic, but you felt so weak, like you didn’t have full control over your body. “I was supposed to be back at home, back to work. I need to call– “

“Hey, hey,” Cole put a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay. Calm down. I already took care of all that.” 

You let him guide you back down onto the mattress as you looked up at him, confused. “What–  What do you mean? How?”

“You had your emergency contact on your reservation form, remember? I called them, talked to them. Took care of everything. You don’t need to worry about that.”

You blinked at him. Everything, your brain and your body, felt like molasses. You didn’t understand.

“Hey,” he said, so softly, his hand briefly brushing against your cheek. He was so comfortable touching you. “Let’s get some food in you, huh?” He picked up the tray with the bowl of soup and carefully placed it on your lap. Sitting down next to you again, he picked up the spoon and began to move it towards your mouth.

Your face heated in embarrassment as you reached to take the spoon from him. “I can do it myself,” you said, feeling strangely small.

He hesitated before letting you take over. “Okay,” he finally said. “But don’t be embarrassed if you need help. I love taking care of you.”

Something about that sentiment made you deeply uncomfortable, but you didn’t say anything. What would you say? You still felt delirious. You needed him, even if the whole situation seemed off. But that was probably just Cole.

As you ate, he went over to the other side of the bed and layed down next to you, grabbing his glasses and the book from the nightstand. “I’ve been reading to you these last few days. I think you liked it. It always soothed you.” Then he opened the book and began reading. His voice was deep, steady, lulling. And you were still so tired. You finished the soup and then let yourself be carried back into sleep.

You dozed through the rest of the day. Surfacing every so often to the sound of Cole’s voice, steadily reading to you, before you were lulled back into unconsciousness. 

He woke you up in the evening for another bowl of soup. He watched you expectantly as you ate it. Eyes going so soft when you told him it was good.

When you were done, he cleared your tray. And then he walked over to the dresser and started taking off his clothes. 

“What are you doing?” you called out as loudly as you could muster, alarmed.

He turned his head as he just kept going, removing his shirt and tossing it into the nearby hamper. He shot you an amused look. “I’m getting ready for bed.”

“In here?” you asked, your voice as high as it could go even with how hoarse it still was.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “It’s my room. Where do you think I’ve been sleeping this whole time?”

“I– “ you started, but your head was starting to feel so heavy and it was hard to turn your thoughts into words. “Shouldn’t I be in a guest room then?” You let yourself lay back down as his hands moved to take off his pants. Things were happening too fast. You couldn’t track it.

“I needed to keep you close, baby–“ Baby?? “– to keep an eye on you. To make sure you were okay. You aren’t out of the woods yet.” He came back to the bed, crawling in next to you. He was wearing soft, cotton sleep pants, thankfully, but his chest was bare. “But don’t worry, I’ll get you there.”

You turned away from him, onto your side, as you struggled to keep your eyes open. This bout of exhaustion had come on so quickly, you couldn’t fight it anymore. You felt Cole right up against your back, his warm breath on your neck, but you were too weak, too tired, to move, to think. 

Just as you were pulled down down down into unconsciousness, he whispered in your ear, “This used to be my parent’s room. They were so happy here.”

You were floating. 

Stuck in that place between wakefulness and deep sleep, you hovered, unsure if you were dreaming or not. It was dark, only the impression of objects behind your eyelids. You were so warm, a heavy weight cosseting you.  

There was a low moaning sound right outside your awareness. Then, gentle touches on your stomach and the inside of your thigh. It felt nice. This was a nice dream.

You were being rocked on whatever cloud you were floating on. Slow and steady at first, rhythmic, but as the pace picked up, it got more erratic. The moaning got louder. You felt it deep in your chest. The grip on you tightened. You rocked harder and harder and harder and harder until suddenly, you were stilled. A wet warmth spread across your back. You felt it seeping into your skin. Becoming part of you. 

There was a feather-light tickling on the back of your neck. And then “I love you” was whispered on the wind wherever you were, before you sank into the darkness again.

You were woken by the sun beaming through the soft curtains. You blinked your eyes open and took a deep breath as you oriented yourself. You were in Cole’s farmhouse, after you’d gotten extremely sick. You took a quick inventory of your body. You stomach felt steady, if hungry. Your muscles didn’t ache. Your skin didn’t feel clammy. And, most importantly, your head felt completely clear for the first time since you’d left for your hike that day.

Another deep breath. Cole’s arm was draped over you and his body was pressed against your back. He snored loudly in your ear. What the fuck? You tried to remember what he’d said. That he needed to keep you close so he could keep an eye on you because you were so sick. That… That made sense. So maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt now. He’d probably gotten so close to you in his sleep, unknowingly. It hadn’t been on purpose. Even so, it was making you feel a little claustrophobic.

You tried to slip yourself out from under him as carefully and quietly as you could. There was no need to wake him. But when you started to move, you felt something on the small of your back. Something thick, dry, stiff, and cracking. What? No. No. That couldn’t–  But no, there was no mistaking what you felt. What else could it possibly be? What–  What was going on here? What had happened while you were sick?? Your skin was crawling. You needed to get out of here.

You got free of Cole and out of the bed without disturbing him too much, thank God. He just flopped onto your side of the bed, snuffling into your pillow. You couldn’t stop and think about the implications of that. There was no time. You needed to go.

As you moved through the room, you caught sight of what you were wearing. Right. First things first, you need to change out of this weird nightie. Where were your things? What had he done with what you’d been wearing? What you’d had with you?

You looked through the hamper first, trying not to touch much, for fear of what you might find. But none of your things were there. So you went to the closet next. When you opened it, you stopped dead.

There, neatly organized into one side, were all of the clothes you’d packed for your trip. Hung up in a nice little row. Your pants were stacked in the little built-in cubbies, and your shoes were lined up beneath everything on the floor. The other side contained all of Cole’s things, pressed up right against yours. Like they belonged there, together.

The one thing you didn’t see was your backpack or all of the important things that had been inside it—your keys, your money, your phone, your IDs. All of the things you would need to get the fuck out of here. You could search for that in a minute, check other parts of the house, maybe try going back to the cabin. Right now, you just needed to get out of this room. 

You grabbed a pair of pants and a top, not really paying attention to what they were, just changing as fast as you could. You grabbed the shoes with the best traction and turned around.

To find Cole standing next to the bed, in sleep pants and nothing else, sleepily scratching his beard, and staring at you. “Where are you going?” he asked. And while he looked and sounded casual, you could feel the tension filling the room.

“I– uh– I think it’s time for me to go, Cole, don’t you?”

“It isn’t safe,” he said, taking a step towards you. You automatically took a step back. His eyes narrowed. “You’re still sick.”

You shook your head wildly. “No, I’m feeling much better now. I feel fine. I can– I can go. I’m well enough to go.”

“That’s great,” he said, but there was evident surprise in his tone. “I’m so glad, but you still can’t leave. The– the snow! The roads aren’t clear. There’s no getting out. It always takes days for the plows to get out this far.”

You swallowed, taking a few more careful steps backward, away from him. He matched your movement. “Well. I think– I think I’ll go have a look for myself. I’m resourceful. I might be able to get through.” You didn’t care whether the roads were blocked or not. You’d trek as many miles as you needed to, through twelve feet of snow, just to get the hell out of here.

He took another step forward, and you took another step back. You were starting to feel like a caged animal. “You can’t leave,” he said with finality.

You took another step back, or tried to, when your back collided with the wall. No, not the wall. Something was sticking out of it, hitting you. The doorknob. You’d backed yourself into the door. Breathing out a sigh of cautious relief, you reached behind yourself, not daring to take your eyes off Cole. Surprisingl,y he didn’t move, didn’t attempt to stop you. You grabbed the handle and turned it. 

It rattled in your grasp, but, to your horror, it didn’t move.

“It locks from both sides with a key,” Cole informed you calmly, patting the pocket of his sleep pants. “Quirks of an old house.”

At that, all of your resolve crumbled. “Cole, please,” you begged. “I just want to go home. Please, let me go home!” Tears were starting to run down your face as panic took over.

His face dropped. “Oh sweetheart,” he said, with so much sympathy you wanted to scream. He rushed to you, cradling you in his arms. “You are home. That’s what I’ve been trying to get you to understand. It was fate that brought you here, to me. Don’t you feel it? Haven’t I taken such good care of you? Don’t you see what a good husband I could be to you? What a good life I could give you?” 

You pushed against him as hard as you could, trying to break his hold, but it was no use. He was so much stronger than you’d realized, his muscles so much firmer beneath your touch than you ever would have guessed. “Please,” you begged again. “I appreciate you taking such good care of me while I was sick, I really do. But I’m better now, I am. And I need to get back to my life!”

“Shh,” he ran a soothing hand down your back. “Yeah, that was my mistake. You should have been under for longer.” You looked at him, confused and so, so scared, as he let go of you, taking a few steps back to sit at the foot of the bed. “You reacted so strongly to the hot chocolate. You weren’t supposed to get that sick. Just enough to keep you here a few extra days. Long enough to see how well I could take care of you. What a good life I’d be able to give you. So much better than the one you were running from. But instead you were just–“ his expression collapsed into anguish. “It really scared me. So, last night, I switched to something else, decreased the dosage. But that apparently wasn’t enough. It’s been really hard to get the dosage right.”

All you could do was stare at him in shock. Horror. Terror. What had he done to you?! What was he going to do to you?!

He stood up again, restless, and you pressed yourself into the door, as much as you could. He looked sad, distressed by your fear. You almost wanted to laugh.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to hurt you. But–“ He stood up to his full height, shoulders suddenly set in determination. With a steely tone, he said, “I would do anything to keep you. Anything.”

Tag List

“Hey, honey, shhh.” You pet her sweaty hair. “Here, I saved some, for you.”

You take the bottle of water you kept crushed under you. There’s maybe a mouthful left. It’s hardly enough for her. You angle her around and pull her head into your lap. You feel around her lips before you tip the trickle of water into her mouth and rub her throat. She swallows with a croak.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Marska whispers from her other side, her accent thick around her words.

“I don’t know.” You admit softly, mindful of your volume. You glance towards the line of light, wary of one of the men passing by.

“Sick.” Marska states in her fractured English.

“Yes,” you agree.

You hold the girl against you, rocking her, caressing her cheek. You never thought you had any maternal instinct. At your age, most people assumed so. Seems you finally found it.

Teyona’s nineteen. She was on her way to college when she spun out on the country roads and woke up here. She wanted to study biology but her grades were too low so she went into economics instead. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but she’d take it now.

She asked you about your college years. You would tell her when you couldn’t hear the constant pace of soles outside, or the voices, the laughter. It was easier to tell her about the girl who was than the woman who’s now stuck in this place. The middle-aged office worker who was just taking the urn of her dead cat out to the beach to scatter.

The clanging on the side of the shipment crate echoes through you. You sink into your shoulders as the clamour rattles your skull. Several girls whine but they move quickly.

“On your bellies, girls.” A voice hollers through as the banging continues.

Shoot. You spread Teyona out. She whimpers and drones. You get her on her stomach then spread out. You put your hands on the back of your head, your face between the feet of the girl ahead of you.

The doors are pulled open. You stare down at the ground. You look up and you won’t do it a second time. Not after you feel the butt of the rifle.

The men’s shadows stretch over the prone bodies, trembling and gulping on the cold metal. Boots stamp down, stepping carelessly between the women. You hold your breath, not for yourself but Teyona.

You’re not stupid. The men told you themselves. You’re not meant to be here. You’re too old but maybe if they put a bag on your head…

“Well, better something than nothing, right?” One man scoffs.

“Where the fuck is she? Look for grey.” The other snickers.

You frown. They can’t mean... A third man kicks your side. “The old one’s here.”

You resent that. You don’t say so but you’ve caught a few glimpses of them. They’re not all spring chickens.

“Hey, let’s get her up.”

The man who kicked you grabs one elbow and another man takes the opposite. They haul you up. Panic swells in your stomach. Not for yourself, but for the girl on the ground shivering and slack on the metal as the outside beams in. Marska reaches over to take her hand. She’ll take care of her.

You don’t have a choice. The men pull your arms down and twist them behind you. The march you out of the crate. You squint at the brightness. The warmth of the sun is a relief from the humidity of the dark freight.

Why you? Why now? This can’t be good. You already understand what’s happening. Where the others go. Not the specifics, but the purpose. Women sold to the highest bidder.

“This way.” The first man commands as he leads the way.

You walk stiffly, chafing in their grasp, yet happy for the extra support. They walk you around the length of the freight and past another. As you come around the corner, there’s a man waiting by a truck.

His hands are in his pocket, then out of them. He paces back and forth as he pulls his gestures in silent conversation with himself. He scratches his sandy hair and turns on his heel, giving a start as he sees you and the men.

He wears jeans and a carhaart jacket. He looks like an average guy. Tall, maybe a few years youngrt than you, his boots scuffed and his plaid shirt slightly sweaty. He shoves his hands in his pockets again, fisting them under the fabric.

“This is all we got in your price range, guy.” They shove you ahead.

You stumble and the man’s face lights up in surprise and dismay. He opens his arms and catches you. Your head lands against his chest as you groan.

“Sorry…” you rasp.

“Hey, you don’t have to be so rough with her.”

“Ha. Don’t play like that. We all know what this is.” The guard retorts. “Now you have two minutes to get the fuck out of here and not come back. You’re lucky I didn’t beat you down coming in here with no money.”

“It’s all I got,” the man says.

“Ours not. Get.” The other retorts.

The man who holds you shifts you in his embrace. You struggle to stand and he moves you so his arm is around your back. He turns you and guides you to the truck. He lifts you into the front seat. Well, at least you’re worth something. You’re not sure this is an escape though.

He buckles you in and squeezes your arm. You ignore his gaze as you feel him looking you over. He shuts the door and hurries around the front of the truck. He gets in the driver side and fumbles to turn the ignition. He cranks the shifter and reverses out.

“Those guys are scary, huh?” He mutters as he rolls the wheel around and leans into the gas pedal.

You don’t say a word. Your head lolls and you stare out the window. You just want to watch the sky. It’s like an old friend.

“You know, I… I didn’t think it’d be like that. I thought they’d take care of you girls. You know…” he rambles. “That’s all I wanna do. So, you don’t gotta worry.” He grips the wheel and leans forward. “I’ll do better.”

You still don’t answer. He falls into silence and drives on. You slump and slowly sink into hazy sleep.

You jolt up as the door beside you opens. He touches your shoulder gently, rubbing your dry skin. “You looked… you’re okay. I thought.” He sniffs. “I just stopped a mile back. Got you something to drink.” He points over you to the cupholder. “Lots of electrolytes.”

You stare at him. His hand lingers then trails along the side of your neck. “You okay, honey?”

You stare at the buttons of his shirt.

“Look, I’m just gonna look you over. Make sure you’re not hurt.” He says.

He runs his hand back to your shoulder and with both, he feels along your arm, examining it, than the other. He does the same to your legs, tracing a thick scab below your knee. “Ouch, look like it hurts.” 

He feels up your thigh and you twitch. 

“I’m just… not gonna… hurt you.” He bends, slowly. He looks hypnotised as his thick fingertips tickle along your thigh. He gets lower and lower. You lean back into the seat. ”Just…”

You squirm but don’t push him off as he suddenly shoves his nose down against your pelvis. He nuzzles into the front of your worn-out panties and takes a deep whiff. You watch him in horror and disbelief. This is insane. He’s insane.

He stands up so suddenly, he looks ready to tip over. He grabs the door to steady himself and clears his throat. He spreads his hand over his chest and drags it down.

He swings the door shut and turns away. He pauses and grips his head, fingers curling as he says something you can’t make out. He drops his arms and marches around to the driver’s door and climbs into the seat.