“Same as you, obviously,” she says, looking back at the warehouse, still not telling me what brought her here, or rather, who.
“You know what they’re doing out here?” She asks, worry etched on her face.
Pressing my lips with disdain, I give her the answer she deserves. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here, merdé.”
She quirks her brow at me as if to say,I don’t know what that French word is, but it sounds like a lot of sass.
“Watch your mouth, lil’ girl.” Pulling her flask out, she takes a swig, handing it to me before pulling it back.
“You twenty-one yet?” she asks, snatching it back to her chest like it’s too precious to be wasted on someone too young to appreciate it before dangling it in front of me.
“I don’t know.” Shrugging, I take it from her loose grip, taking the pink bedazzled bottle to the head like a veteran, but my nerves are shot, and I need something to settle them. I can’t remember the exact year of my birthday or the day, really. The therapist Snake paid for out-of-pocket says it was a way to distance myself from the trauma, though I know I was nine or about to be when he rescued me.
“I can get us closer.” Motioning for her to follow me, I sneak between the thick shrubs leading into the woods.
By the time we take twenty minutes of a circuitous route to offset Kandie’s stomping, Snake, Padre, Rocco, Angel and Ulysses Shelby, the county sheriff everyone knows Kandie is secretly seeing, are gone.
“We can go in now,” I mutter, seeing that the spot where the truck and the bikes were is empty.
The chill of the night is eating through my clothes. I shiver, but it’s not only from the temperature.
Not even from this vantage point can we see inside the warehouse. That does nothing to ease the piercing dreadspreading over me. I hear voices. They are muffled. People are in there. Probably kids as well. When he all but promised he’d never deal in kids after what I went through.
“Come on.” Making quick work of the lock, I pull a black knit cap over my head.
“Here. I always keep an extra.” Handing her the twin, I wait until she pulls on the cap, tucking her thick curls inside.
We pull our hoodies up to cover the rest of our hair and head in.
The moment I walk into the warehouse, my entire universe caves in.
Taking row after row of kids in, one thing I know for sure is — I hate Snake lying child trafficking ass hypocrite with every fiber of my being. Everything I ever felt for him dies in that moment. I feel as if I’m going to be physically ill.
“Merdè” This time the word holds so much horror. I know I’m not alone in my feelings watching Kandie take in the scene before us.
The children, ranging from toddler to young adult, lie as still as possible on beds. As if they are scared even to move. Their frail little forms vibrate with fear and the trauma they have had to endure, and no one deserves.
In Haiti there is a word for it — restavek, child slavery basically. What would have happened to me that night had Hadrián not saved me. I can’t even wrap my mind around what I’m seeing. It’s like Hadrián gave way to Snake in the worst way — able to do the most reprehensible things imaginable. Cognitive dissonance threatens to explain away what I’m seeing, but I don’t let it.
“What are they doing to these kids?” The plaintive tone in Kandie’s voice has me turning on her with a wrathful gaze.
“I’m sure the same thing they did to y’all in that home I heard you burned to the ground.” Acid drops from my voice.It’s not directed at her but at those who betrayed these kids. I don’t need to tell her my story to see the understanding in her eyes. Her past is as dark as mine. Like me, she survived only to be confronted with it again through someone she trusted. If her face is any indication, Kandie is just as horrified as I am.
“The fact that he could be part of this after—” I bite those words with a harsh grating laugh. Tilting my head back, I shake it in disbelief. “Estipid.”
“We have to get them out of here,” Kandie says when we get to the rear of the rows of beds. I notice they are still as stones, though no one is asleep — gazes of all ages watching us with trepidation. I also don’t know what resources she has at her disposal to help these people. My life is solely dependent on Snake. What little money I’ve been saving is not nearly enough to see myself free of him, let alone help nearly thirty people free themselves from el Diablo cartel.
There is a door before us with the light spilling underneath.
Pushing it open, I see the two rows of beds. Older girls, seeming to be in their late teens to early twenties, are lined up in two groups of four on either side of the room. The room smells faintly of antiseptic. They all have IVs.
Dread tightens my tummy. Kandie looks like she’s about to be sick.
The light is low, but one of the girls is sitting up in the bed. She rushes to tuck a book under her pillow.
“Senorita,” Kandie says, going over to her. We lift our masks so she can see what I hope look to be friendly faces.
“No halbla inglais,” she says before I can ask questions. Looking frantically around like she’s afraid one of the other girls is going to snitch on her to their captors.
