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“That doesn't matter.” He inched closer and reached out toward my arm. “Let me help you up,” he said.

I scrambled backward, bumping into the cot. “Don't fucking touch me.”

“Fine. I won't help you then. You can stay on the floor for all I care.” The man ran his hands down his shirt and walked back to the door.

He held the door, ready to leave, when I said, “Please, just let me go. I can get you money, an airplane, anything you want. Just name your price.”

The man looked back over his shoulder. A thin strand of hair fell over his face, creating a shadowed slash on his skin. “I don't need your money, Sweetheart.”

As he opened the door wider, my body reacted before my mind could catch up. I jumped to my feet and bolted. Charging forward, I screamed at the top of my lungs. My hands were stretched out in front of me, ready to shove him out of the way.

I struck him hard, using all the strength I had to move him aside. There was no floor beneath my feet. No air in my lungs.No fear in my soul. All I felt was need. Need to get out. Need to be as far away from him and this place as I could.

The man teetered on his heels, giving me enough room to squeeze by. My heart hammered in my chest with every step. But freedom didn't last long. The man threw his hand out and grabbed a fistful of my hair. He yanked hard, snapping my head back. A sharp pain zipped down my neck, tracing my spine, and then moved through my legs.

As he pulled me back into the room, I saw someone from the corner of my eyes. Time was suspended just long enough for me to see another man. He was standing in the hall, his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall.

Our eyes connected, but there was no emotion on his face. He just stood there. Blank face, still as a frozen lake, and cold as ice. His eyes bore into my chest, taking my heart hostage.

I recognized the second man.

We had met before.

Chapter Four

Poppy

––––––––

I was on the floor, my body in a heap and my scalp on fire. The fan motor squeaked like a record spinning under a broken needle. The floor was gritty. Granules of sand clung to my skin like sugar to a wet spoon. My nose was pressed against the wood, and it smelled like a dirty gym bag with a hint of bleach.

Who else had been here?I wondered as my mind slowly rotated through a carousel of grief, anger, and despair.

How many other people had been in this same position? How many women had crumbled to this very floor like rotted wood sheds off a tree? How many tears had been absorbed by the floorboards, giving it the scent of dejection?

I peeked out from under my arm and watched the fan's blades as I listened to the slow precession. My heart was beating, but not as hard or fast as before. I was numb. Completely and soullessly numb. My soul had gone into hiding, making me cold all over. Every thought of escape had vanished. Depression ate away at me like maggots on a carcass.

Look where I was. Trapped. Captured. Stolen without reason. And unless someone unlocked the door to set me free, I wasn't leaving of my own volition. All of this was because I had allowed lust to blind me.

I curled my knees to my chest and hugged them tightly. What had I done to deserve this? What had I done to end up in the hands of a monster? What sick game had I been dragged into?

My lids grew heavy. I blinked longer, and slower until my eyes closed and I drifted off into unconsciousness. I had a dreamwhile I was sleeping. The same dream that had haunted me for years. The same dream that had no ending.

* * * *

“Where are we going today?” I asked as I watched my mother.

She was curling her hair, giving a spritz of hairspray to every new curl. When we arrived, my mother was blond, but now she had black hair. She dyed it a few days after we arrived in Paris. She even tried to have my hair dyed, but the woman said she wouldn't do it on a girl my age, and I had to be at least thirteen. So, my mother had her cut my hair short instead.

I didn't like it at first, but I was getting used to it. It was way easier to brush because it didn't get as full of knots. Plus, it also stayed out of my mouth when I ate now. My mother said it made me look more sophisticated. She said we fit right in with the other locals like we belonged.

“Today, we're going to take the train to Italy,” my mother said.

“Italy?”

“Venice, to be exact.”

“But we haven't seen everything here yet,” I whined.