Eliza Wuz Here

5-Michael

A/N: this story does have harsh themes and situations. Trafficking is a terrible crime and it will not be sugarcoated or glorified here. Before you continue, be aware that some of these situations can be potentially triggering. If you can't continue, I understand and I have other stories that you may enjoy instead. -Sam

**

Terrible things. The words crush like the building falling down onto me, all around me, but when I blink I'm still here. I'm still pulling the stagnant air into my lungs, surrounded by these thick walls.

"He's coming today," Caleb says. "Soon."

I feel an icy chill. Caleb's lips tremble. I see his jaw work, biting back words he probably thinks he shouldn't say. If he tells me he's sorry again, I might go insane. Sorry people don't keep you in dungeons, which is essentially what this place is.

Or could it be...

Is he having second thoughts? I jump at it.

"You can let me go," I blurt. "Please, before he gets here." I've taken him by surprise. He stares all wide eyed and then he starts shaking his head profusely. I'm losing him. "No! Help me, come on, you said you were sorry, if you are then let me go. Just say you were caught off guard or-or you dropped the key-or I stole the key! I stole it right from your pocket and I ran so fast, it could be believable—"

"No!"

His sharp shout catches me off guard. It rings around the room the way a firing squad's gunfire might, one big boom that seals my fate. I can hear in it, that there will be no changing his mind. Whatever hold this Michael has on him, it's strong.

"He will know. I can't lie to him. He always knows."

He turns his head away, so he can't see me, putting himself behind an invisible wall. I wonder what kind of past he and Michael have that forged their bond. He called him his brother. Real or metaphorical? Did they grow up together? Survive a violent home? Did they grow up with a home? Has Michael always been there? Has Michael ever hurt him? There must be some cracks in there somewhere. It would take time, I know. I need to forge my own bond with Caleb—or at least make him believe there's one.

"Hey," I say softly, I touch his arm to give us a physical connection. He lifts his eyes to mine. I hope my touch says, I'm real, I'm warm, just like you. Alive. But who knows what he's thinking. Normal people don't kidnap others, so something is obviously off with his thought process. But I need him calm right now. I need him on my side. "It's okay. I'll go along with it, okay? So he won't get rid of me."

"Good," he says. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

He puts his right hand on top of my hand on his left arm. It takes a lot of nerve to hold the connection, when what I want to do is lash out at him. Something is happening to me. I fight an inner battle to calm my rage.

"What do I have to do?"

"He will tell you. Just clean up and put on the outfit. He likes to see first."

See first? I want to vomit. I want to punch Caleb and tell him I don't want his creep brother seeing anything, to let me go.

But I don't. That isn't how I'm going to be able to get away. I can't bust out of a concrete room, I need to find cracks and seep through. As much as it pains me, I go for the gross shower, turn the knob. The pipes scream awake.

"I'll leave you to it," he says over the sound.

As soon as he's out the door, I deflate. My posture loosens and the air in my lungs goes out in a puff. Sobs take over. For a few minutes. That's all I will allow. I have to pull this off and I know I can't be a mess when this Michael guy comes. Somehow, he determines my fate, so I'll have to try my best to make a good impression.