Chapter 3
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LUCIANA SHIVERED INthe early morning light, a wave of nausea washing over her.The house was eerily quiet as she lay in bed, exhausted from both her nightmares and the grim reality of her circumstances.The silence was only a brief reprieve, however, because reality would once again come crashing through the quiet like a wrecking ball.Luciana lived in the minutes now, surviving from moment to moment as she struggled against the fear nearly pulling her under, her very existence mere fragments of the woman she’d once been.
Luciana had heard the screams of one of the teenage girls last night.She’d lay frozen in her bed, terrified and unable to help, barely sleeping more than a few minutes at a time.Maybe Luciana wouldn’t have been able to stop the two men who’d brought her to Panama City, but she felt complicit in the kidnapping anyway.She hadn’t cried out a warning to the teenagers.She hadn’t yelled for them to run or screamed for help.She’d whispered for them to leave, her throat closing as panic had set in, and then it had been too late.They’d been kidnapped right off the street, and Luciana had dutifully followed her captors as they all returned to their vehicle, knowing she’d be beaten or worse if she so much as uttered a sound of protest.
Horror crept through her.As a nurse, she helped others.Provided needed medical care.Letting those teenage girls fall victim to the ruthless cartel was as opposite from her job as one could get.She should’ve screamed for help.Begged them for mercy.
Instead, she’d practically handed the teenagers right over to the devil himself.
As queasiness rose within her again, Luciana stumbled out of bed, then rushed to the trashcan and vomited.
Tears smarted her eyes, but she felt slightly better as she sat on the floor.There was still a glass of water on the nightstand, and she reached for it, taking a tiny sip.After a few moments, as she waited for her stomach to settle, she realized she was still in the clothes she wore last night.Luciana had assumed one of the women of the house would come to her at some point, forcing her to change into another threadbare nightgown.Leaving her barefoot.Defenseless.
Yet Luciana still had on her clothes.Her undergarments.Her boots.
A flash of shock suddenly sent adrenaline spiking through her bloodstream.Luciana had hidden a small pocketknife in the sole of one boot long ago.It wouldn’t do much damage to a person, but it would afford her the smallest level of protection.Would they really let her keep her belongings this time?Maybe they were planning to take her out in public again.If Luciana removed the small knife from where it was concealed, she wasn’t sure where she could possibility hide it in the room.Besides, then she wouldn’t have it when they were out, and maybe the small pocketknife would be the only thing to help her escape her captors.
Another small shudder wracked through her.
Should she have tried to save the teenagers?
Even if Luciana had remembered the knife last night in her panic, her options had been slim.Her hands had been scraped from the fall, and she didn’t stand a chance against two men.
Briefly glancing at the palms of her hands, she felt relieved that she’d been able to clean them after they’d returned last night.She still had abrasions, but there were no signs of infection.She swiped away her tears, looking around the bedroom.It was almost too quiet this morning, and the sudden sound of voices arguing was practically a sweet relief.At least that she was familiar with.The waiting and anticipation of what was to come were almost worse than the reality of whatever she’d face.If something was happening, she could run through various scenarios in her mind of what to do next.Plan ahead.Enclosed in this bedroom, waiting in complete silence, didn’t help her further assess the situation in the slightest.
She strained to hear the words as one man continued yelling in Spanish.The voices got closer, and her stomach dropped.She pulled the threadbare blanket around herself, as if that could shield her from harm.
Luciana’s mind flashed back to her childhood.She’d spent many fearful mornings huddled beneath the blankets in bed, listening to her father’s shouts.He was angry at his men, at her mother, at the world.The argument in the halls this morning seemed oddly familiar, and for a moment, she felt like a helpless child again.Trapped.Quiet.Invisible.
Except she was a grown woman, and they had no right to hold her here against her will.
“She is gone!”the man snapped, heavy footsteps sounding as several men moved down the hallway, passing by her door.
“Where is the second girl?”
