"Sang!" my mother screeches from downstairs, causing me to cringe. I scramble to a sitting position, and as quickly as possible, get out of bed and rush to the door.
I don't know what I did wrong this time, but I am sure it is something completely imaginary that had only happened in her head. Now she is upset again, just waiting to dish out her punishment to me as my father and sister watch on. I only have a few weeks until I turn eighteen before I can be free from this home, and unlike my sister Marie, I am ready to be gone. I am actually sure she will never leave home. Not me, though, I have other plans, first of which is getting out of here. My hard work at school paid off as I had managed to land a full-ride scholarship to my top pick in schools, and thanks to the job I had gotten when we moved to Charleston three years ago, I have enough money saved to get my own place plus everything I need to get started. Luckily, I had found an attic space in my room and a loose board that I had gotten moved enough to stash my money there. Thankfully no one else had managed to find my perfect hiding spot.
"Sang! Now!" My mother screeched again, louder this time, and I know my lollygagging is going to cost me-whatever punishment she previously planned will be much worse. I pick up my pace and almost run straight into my father who must have been starting up the stairs to fetch me himself.
My father grabs my arm roughly and proceeds to drag me in the direction of the living room. His longer strides make it hard to keep up, with my legs being significantly shorter, and I stumble into the living room. When he stops abruptly, I tumble some and almost fall, but his grip on my arm keeps me from falling completely. He quickly shoves me to the center of the room, as if I am to be on display. I scan the scarce living room, where, sitting on the dusty, old, burnt orange colored couch are Marie and our mother, both with matching devious looks on their faces. I instantly move on to take in the rest of the area when my I notice a tall man with jet black hair and dark eyes with a scar running down the length of his face. I shrink away from him, the look on his face is one of pure evilness, and I have a feeling he is why my mother has called me down. She would never just let some stranger into the house, especially a male, unless there was a purpose.
"Strip," my mother sneers. I blink rapidly for a moment, sure I had heard her wrong. Surely, she doesn't mean for me to take my clothes off, not here, and not in front of a male, an unknown one at that.
"Strip now," my mother hissed. Tears blur my vision, but I refuse to let them fall. I won't give her the satisfaction of not only humiliating me but also allowing her to see me cry.
I close my eyes briefly and swallow back my tears. When I'm back in control, I open them and look into my mother's as I lift my shirt over my head. I never let my sight leave her blue malicious one as I drop my shirt to the ground. I'm humiliated, but I won't let her see that. I will remain strong, even if I am breaking inside. My eyes still locked on hers, I unbutton my jeans and release the zipper before I pull on them slightly until they drop to the ground. I step out of my jeans, and I'm now down to my underwear and bra. I stand there straight as possible, hoping she will let me remain in my under clothes. Marie leans over and whispers something to our mother, and I look around seeking out my father. He remains where he has been since he shoved me into the center of the room, but now he is turned away, not looking at me. I try and avoid the stare I can feel boring into my body and almost succeed but a movement out of the corner of my eye has me looking at him. The lewd expression on his face sends my stomach rolling, and I feel the bile work its way up, before I swallow it down. I turn my gaze away from him and find myself staring into Marie's dark glare, so full of hate, and I have to wonder what I ever did to her to get this kind of feeling from her. I always thought sisters were supposed to stick together. Maybe I am wrong because that certainly isn't the case here.
"Lose all the clothes, Sang. Be the whore you are, just like your mother," my mother mocks, causing everything around me to pause. Time seems to stands still as her words sink in. My mother? Whore? What does she mean? Isn't she my mother? What is she talking about?
"Now!" she screams, startling me out of my questioning mind and causing me to almost jump out of my skin.
I move without thought and unclasp my bra, pulling my arms out, and letting it fall to the floor. I take a deep breath and place my thumbs into the waistband of my underwear and slide them down also. When they reach my ankles, I step out of them. The last of my dignity shredded, I bow my head in embarrassment. I have never been so ashamed and humiliated in my life. I can't figure out what I could have ever done to deserve this kind of punishment. What have I ever done to any of them?
"Stand up straight," my mother demands. I lift my head, straighten my back and shoulders, and square my gaze with hers.
I see movement in my peripheral vision again, but I refuse to look away from the dull blue scrutiny of the woman in front of me. The vicious look she is giving me let me know that the real show is just beginning. I stand stock-still as I feel the man closing in on me. My hand curls into a fist, and my body tenses as I feel him press against me. His hands land on my hips, and I taste the bile I had swallowed earlier trying to make its way up again. I swallow several times to keep the little contents I have in my stomach from making an appearance. I remain perfectly still as his hands roam up my body. It only takes moments, but it feels like an eternity, before he steps away, and his hands are gone from my form. He leisurely moves around me until he is standing in front of me. His gaze slowly rakes over my body in a cruel and judging manner, before his leering stare meets mine, and he gives me a menacing smile.
"You'll do nicely, very nicely," the man sneers. I'm confused by his comment but don't dare speak.
The man steps forward again and places his hands on each of my shoulders. Slowly, he starts rubbing them down my arms, then back up, before starting to slide his hands across my chest.
"You got your fucking show, Janice. That's enough. Let's get on with it," my father's voice suddenly rings out.
He turns around, but still refuses to look at me. The man slowly moves his hands away and nods in my father's direction.
"Very well," the man states. "My boss will be very pleased with her, and she will bring him top dollar. Therefore, I will make it worth your while," the man states gruffly.
"Oh look, the little whore finally pays off," my mother harshly quips.
"I will be taking her today,of course. I assume cash is acceptable." The man raises his eyebrow in challenge. My mother simply smiles gleefully and nods her head.
"Very well. Put some clothes on the girl as we discussed previously, and I will return momentarily," the man says, striding away towards the door.
Marie reaches behind her and pulls out a set of worn grey sweats with a matching sweatshirt. She strides toward me with purpose, a triumphant look on her face. I tremble slightly; the last half hour catching up me. Marie shoves the sweats into my chest, and I stumble back a few steps, but I manage to grab and keep ahold of them. Marie snickers before she shoves me again and moves past me. Tears prick at my eyes. I will obviously be gone soon; does she really need to continue torturing me? Deciding now is not the time to dwell on that fact, I pull the sweatshirt over my head. The sweats go on next, and I have to roll up the legs along with the sleeves on the sweatshirt.
I hear the front door slam shut, and I cringe at the sound. This is it. The man is taking me out of here, and though I always dreamed of this day, I have a feeling this isn't going to be any better. The man re-enters the living room and, with more speed than I have ever seen from her, my mother stands up and is in front of the man. She anxiously holds out her hand, and the guy lets out a booming laugh.
"It's all yours," he says, handing the briefcase over to my mother without a second glance her way. My mother greedily grabs the case and squeezes it to her chest before heading back to her seat on the couch.
The man clasps a hand around my arm and pulls me close to him.
"Did you want to count it or am I free to take the girl?" he questions, an eyebrow raised.
"Just take the damn whore," my mother says distractedly as her eyes go wide at the content of the briefcase.
"Wait," my father says, and I can't help but let some hope rise in me. He steps toward where my mother is, and the hope I had disappears.
My father takes out some of the bills and starts counting. The man's pressure on my arm increases, and I bite my tongue to keep from crying out. I have made it this far, I won't cry now.
"Oh. Just let him take the little slut. I want her out of here already," my mother sneers, shooting a glare in my direction. I cringe back slightly.
"I did this for you! You will wait!" my father bellows. My mother looks shocked for a moment before she is standing and striding toward me with purpose. Before I can prepare myself, her hand connects with my cheek, leaving a sting in its wake. Unable to hold back, I cry out, and she smirks, looking pleased.
"Let me know when the little whore is gone," she huffs and storms off. I reach up and rub at my stinging cheek. My father never looks up instead he just continues to count the money, his greedy eyes trying to take it all in.
"You can take her now," my father states about a half hour later, still not bothering to look up from the money.
The man tugs on my arm roughly and leads me out the room without another word. I stumble along behind him, trying to keep some sense of balance. He opens the back door on the driver's side to a dark colored sedan and shoves me in.
"Wait. I almost forgot. Turn around," he demands. Not wanting to find out what happens if I disobey, I do as instructed. With no warning, he grabs my arms and painfully pulls them behind me. I feel the bite of something digging into my wrists, before he lets go of me, and I am still unable to move my arms. Something goes around my eyes, turning everything dark.
"Turn until your back is against the seat correctly," he states, then I hear the sound of my door shutting. A second later a second door shutting is heard before the car starts up.
I'm not sure how long we drive or what direction we are heading when we come to a halt and the car is shut off. I feel the breeze of the evening sweep in and someone is tugging on my arm, dragging me out of the car.
"Walk with me," a new voice demands.
It isn't long until we seem to be walking through a building. The gravel changing to cold cement under my bare feet has me pretty confident we are not in a house. We come to a stop, and I'm jerked forward, the motion causing me to trip. Before I come in contact with the floor, however, the hand on my arm tightens, catching me.
"Enjoy your stay," the new man states darkly and shoves me hard. This time I do fall, landing roughly against the cement, my head bounces forcefully, connecting with the unyielding floor. Excruciating pain radiates through me, then everything goes black.