Honestly I never thought anything horrible would happen to me. I tried to be a good person, uphold the law, and obey my parents while being my nonconformist black-wearing self. I was seated in the backseat of my parents' mini van reading an article on human trafficking while my parents were in the grocery store. I had watched the movie on Lifetime. To know there were people that actually did that to other people disturbed my little suburb mind. My home life was stable and my mind . . . well, I couldn't make any promises.
Then I thought over the fight I had had with my high school rival Felice Comer today. We had one nearly everyday. People would call us worst enemies. I couldn't believe she had said—
"NOOOO!" Some stranger's voice shouted. I heard a gunshot as I popped out of the seat and looked towards the danger, which was inside the store where my parents were currently shopping for some snacks. I dragged out my cell phone and dialed 911 hoping it wasn't to late as I took the gun my dad kept in the glove box for security out. I reported to the dispatcher as I ran towards the store upon hearing a second shot.
I was so scared. I was surprised by my calmness. My parents! They were in the store. They could be hurt. Or the people shot. I swung open the door as I held the gun up. I froze when I saw my dad with a third eye dead on the ground. Blood from the store clerk was coating the floor. The black masked gunman turned towards my mother and aimed as the accomplice took directed his gun at me.
Why was this happening?
I shot the man pointing at my mother as the accomplice's bullet hit my shoulder. The man I shot was lying on the floor; the accomplice was running as the sirens sounded in the distance, and my dad was dead on the floor while my mom cried over him. I shook.
Daddy was dead and I just shot a man.
At the funeral I slipped into the bathroom, as I attempted not to breakdown yet again. Unfortunately my ears were subjected to the sounds of pleasure, as one of my father's associates got lucky with one of our catering staff. My father had been a high paid lawyer. Had been—I hated the tears that caught in my throat as I thought of the words. I had always been daddy's little girl. Dad had adored Mom and I. As his two favorite girls we were spoiled. Neither one of us knew what we would do without him.
The two were done going at it because the man crashed into me as he exited. "Oh." The youngest lawyer at my dad's firm Digbee and Associates stared at me in complete shock. Michael Field, who my father was going to make partner and let take over when he retired, was standing before me with his intense blue eyes. He towered over me in my small, petite body frame.
"Celebrating because the old man is dead and you get to take over?" I snapped. I had to take my anger out on somebody. I was angry with God. I was mad at the Devil. Basically I was pissed off at the world.
"I would never do something like that. Brianne, I'm so sorry." The gorgeous hunk said as if he was sincere. I gave him a look that should have made his toes curl up.
"Just go away!" I exclaimed. I tried to fight back a whimper. It didn't work out. The tears started to fall and two arms with big muscles encircled me. I buried my head against his suit without thinking. I hadn't been doing much of that lately.
"It will be alright." Michael's well-cultured European voice promised over my head. I was accepting help from the man who had got lucky at my father's funeral. What was the world coming to? What was I coming to? And here I thought I was unstable before. Now what was I? Maybe they should lock me up now and throw away a key before I attacked Michael. I could imagine one of those big knives sticking out of his stomach. Suddenly I couldn't breathe.
I pushed away from the comfort Michael was offering. I ran out the door before he could stop me. Two blocks away from the funeral home I stopped and realized how childish I had been. Hands gripped me hard. The struggle to get away didn't end well for me as a needle pierced my skin. I traveled off into a state of drugged slumber.
"Tengo el temor." A woman's voice whispered upon my awakening. Thanks to my brilliant Spanish teacher I knew that it meant I'm afraid. There were three other voices whispering in different languages that weren't Spanish or English.
I opened my eyes to see four women of different ethnicities. They all looked just as scared as me. I had been kidnapped. Note to self: Being kidnapped was not fun. Obviously.
"What is going on?" I whispered loudly. They 'shhed' me as a big man with a scar came back into the shabby, ugly room. The room itself terrified me. The guy struck the fear of God into me. He had a gun. I really, really hate guns.
"SHUT UP!" He screamed. "You!" He pointed his firearm at me. "I see you are finally awake. We can open up for business. Stand up, everyone!" The other four stood as I stared at him.
"My father was James Digbee. He was a very important lawyer. My mom will pay whatever ransom you want." I informed. My numb mind tried to comprehend an escape plan even though I saw no end in sight.
"This isn't about ransom, this is about business. You are part of the human trafficking market. Now it's time for your first lesson . . ." Then he hit me. The man beat me so bad I was lying bloody on the ground when he finally penetrated me.
Welcome to Hell on Earth.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'mgoing to flash forward through most of Brianne's captivity. If you want to see an update please review and tell me so.