“What’s happening?” I ask, my voice shaking. “Do you know where we’re going?”
She just shakes her head, crying harder.
“I don’t know—I don’t know—”
I look around, searching frantically.
“Becca?” I call out, louder now. “Becca!”
Nothing.
She’s not here.
She’s not here.
My chest tightensso hard it hurts.
“Shut the fuck up,” one of the men snaps from inside the van, gun in hand. “All of you. Sit down and relax.”
Relax.
I almost laugh.
The doors slam shut.
The van jerks forward hard, speeding off.
The girls around me are shaking, crying, some barely conscious. Dresses torn, makeup smeared, skin bruised. A few look like they’re completely out of it—drugged, slumped against the sides.
It’s freezing.
None of us have anything.
I swallow hard, forcing myself tobreathe.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, even though my voice shakes. “We’re… we’re going to be okay, alright? Just—just stay calm.”
I don’t even believe it.
But they need something.
The ride feels like it goes on forever.
Too fast. Too quiet except for the crying.
Then—
We slow.
The van turns sharply, gravel crunching under the tires before it finally stops.
The doors open.
Cold air rushes in again.
“Out,” one of the men orders.
We’re pulled out one by one.
