I wake up on the side of a road. The sun has barely risen and there’s not a car in sight. I look around for the old man's house, but all I see is a landscape of flat, cracked land. My arms are covered in dark purple bruises and the pain in my leg now radiates towards my back. There's a sharp, throbbing pain in my head from where I was hit. As I begin my journey across the barren terrain I pray that with each step I’m closer to reuniting with my mom.
I walk for what feels like hours, the desert heat further inhibiting my progress as I’m forced to stop every few minutes. As I sit down for a break I hear the roar of an engine behind me. I wave my arms for the car to stop, it’s a dirty old white Mercedes Sprinter, the same one dad drives. The van stops and the driver lowers his window. It’s a young man, “Get in the back,” he says angrily. Without a second thought I race to the back. The doors open from the inside and I’m met with a group of scary looking men. I get in and close the door behind me. There are two hispanic guys, both bald and on the scrawny side. There’s one guy sporting the longest dreads I’ve ever seen. The scariest one, though, was the biker looking guy. He had a long red beard and looked like he could snap the hispanic men in half. We sit in silence for a while until the biker guy begins talking, “Hey girl,” he says “how old are you?”
“I’m twelve and a half.”
“You’re cute for twelve,” one of the hispanics says with a grin.
“Just your type, Miguel,” the biker guy says laughing. I keep to myself and sit quietly until the van comes to a halting stop. I get up to open the door but am suddenly yanked back by one of the men. I try to release myself from his grip but he’s too strong. I struggle as he blindfolds me. He now grabs both my arms as he opens the door and leads me towards what I assume is a building of some sort. The men enter and I hear the door lock behind me. Suddenly I’m thrown to the ground, I quickly remove the blindfold, Miguel is pointing a gun at me.
“Don’t move,” he yells. He pulls me up by my collar and leads me towards a closet. He pushes me in, takes a picture of me, and locks the door. I get up and jiggle the doorknob, just to be sure it’s locked--which it is. I bang on the door and beg to be let out, but I’m pretty sure no ones even there anymore. Suddenly I hear footsteps, I get up and bang on the door again. The other hispanic guy opens the door and pulls me out. Again he tells me to sit and not move, scared I do as I’m told. Again, he pulls out his phone and takes more pictures.
“What's with the pictures?” I ask.
“You’ll find out later,” he says. The dreadlocks guy runs in, “A buyer is here,” he says excitedly. “Sit still and look pretty,” the guy says to me. An old man walks in, he seems rich, very rich. He comes up to me and gestures for me to stand up. He begins stroking my hair, “Not usually into blondes, but you’ll do,” he says. He turns to the hispanic guy, “She looked better in the pictures,” he says before leaving. I notice a window to my right. I make a run for it, I leap through the window and land in a bush, one guy runs up behind me but doesn't fit through the narrow window, the other guys go through the door, giving me a head start. I run as fast as I can but I know I wont be able to outrun them. Before I turn the corner I hear a gunshot, I stop and fall to my knees. I look down at the ring of blood quickly seeping through my shirt.