Kidnapped

Andrew (Revised)

Chapter 2:

Eyes down. I stared at my hands for awhile. Thinking about what I had to do. I couldn't just disobey a direct order from my dad.

That's the way they liked it, and that's how I avoided a beating. I could feel my dad's eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to touch her. Closing my eyes, I curled up tighter and feigned sleep. They never touched me when I was asleep.

The girl whimpered quietly. I grimaced. They promised me it would only be a scouting mission. They said I wouldn't have to touch anyone or hurt anyone. All I had to do to please them was pick out a girl and let them have her. When they eventually brought her to the house I was meant to stay in my room while they worked on her. It was my job to present. I could handle that, even though it made me sick. Our buyers would contact us online and I would take the pictures, or even set up appointments for them to come see the girls for themselves. Accepting that job was the only way I could escape the horrors they inflicted on the girls in the basement. If I took their picture and made a decent pitch, I didn't have to watch them break. I didn't have to listen to their screams and cries. I just had to sell them, which was better than any other path I could take when it came to my dad.

Skip shifted his sleeping position and the girl made a quiet sound of distress. Fear radiated off of her in waves, crashing against me, crushing my soul, or whatever was left of it. I wished I could take it away. I wished I could take her and every other girl my dad had taken over the years to someplace safe. Somewhere they could feel safe and forget about the horrible things that had been done to them. They deserved that. They deserved so much more than what happened to them.

But I was helpless to stop it.

Whatever my dad said was the law. Disobedience was rewarded with hot irons, lashes from belts or chains, and any number of ways to inflict pain. Disobedience meant something worse than death. There was no escape for me, much less the girl.

She made another sound.

"Please, stop." I whispered.

My acknowledgement only encouraged her. I peeked through my lashes to see her scooting closer to me, begging for attention and compassion. Her persistence shattered my heart. In two week's time, I would have broken her spirit. Her bright blue eyes would lose their luster and the shimmering hope would die.

"Stop," I pleaded.

Her volume increased and Skip stirred. Fear gripped me and my breath caught in my chest, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the girl. She drew her eyebrows together in a stern look of determination and made another sound, louder this time. Skip stirred again.

What was she doing?

She tried to speak through the tape, adding inflection on different sounds to pass along the message.

"Let. Me. Go." She managed. "I'll wake him up."

"If you wake him up," I whispered fiercely, "we both get it. Be quiet and this will just be easier for the both of us."

She glared at me, full of life. So full of life.

Again, her volume increased. Skip woke up, but only long enough to grunt a warning to be quiet. The girl didn't care. By this time she had maneuvered herself close enough to bump my knee with her feet.

"Stop it." I shied away from her.

"Is she causing you trouble back there?" My dad's tone sent chilled me to the bone.

"No," I could hardly speak above a whisper.

"It doesn't sound like it," my dad growled. "Put her in her place and get some sleep."