Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
Alejandro crosses the warehouse and holds open a door, gesturing me inside patiently. “Clean up and put on the clothes.”
The door slams, leaving me alone. Do as you’re told. It’s an easy rule to follow, one that requires no thought at all. I’d usually comply, stuck in my numb acceptance, but the only thought whirling through my mind is that I’m going to be sold or killed. This may seem like a horrible way to live, but I know well that it can be far worse. I close my eyes as the memories of vile acts and depraved violence whirl through my mind, dragging me out of whatever blind state I’ve come to cling to. On the other side of this door, freedom is so close I can almost taste it. There was a time when I thought of escaping. They might kill me, but I’d rather die than end up with someone like the Master again.
A plan starts to take shape in my mind, tentative at first, like a wild animal approaching new surroundings, careful and nervous. I tiptoe toward the prospect and then back away before nervously moving forward again. Back and forth, life and death, the known and the unknown.
I’m in a gym-type locker room. I move over to the communal showers and turn on the water, using the sliver of hand soap to wash my hair and body as fast as I can. Months of dirt and grime wash down the drain in a whirlpool of tainted water. I’d say I feel clean, but I don’t. Of course I don’t. I’m stained to my very soul, and no amount of soap will rid me of that.
Getting out, I dry myself with the worn, ratty towel left on the bench. The clothes are simple, a pair of denim shorts and a black tank top, but they’re clean. I can’t remember the last time I wore clean clothes or clothes at all for that matter.
Finally making a decision, I tie my hair up in a knot and frantically search the locker room. I turn on several of the showers until the room is filled with the sound of water hitting tile. Steam rises, filling the space rapidly. In the end stall, I grip the metal pipe with the showerhead on it. The metal groans when I yank on it, but it doesn’t give. Summoning all my strength, I yank it three more times until it comes loose. Water bursts from the broken pipe, soaking my shirt and burning my skin until it finally rips free of the wall.
Alejandro’s heavy, uneven footsteps echo over the sound of the showers. I hurry across the room and crouch down beside the lockers, watching as his form appears through the thick steam.
“Rubia?” he calls out.
Taking a deep breath, I rush at him and swing the metal pipe at the back of his head. He twists at the last minute, and the pipe collides with the side of his face. There’s a cracking of bone before he hits the floor. I don’t look at him, just run. Tearing the door open, I sprint across the warehouse, looking for a way out. There’s a metal walkway with a ladder up to it. I run for it and climb the ladder as fast as I can. Once I hit the walkway, I’m running for the open window sat ajar at the top of the warehouse. Poking my head out, I squint against the bright sunlight. It’s a long way down to the ground. There’s a garbage bin off to the side. If I can just get a little farther along…
A series of shouts echo around the warehouse below. I’m out of time. This is it, now or never. My pulse pounds against my eardrums—adrenaline pumping through my veins and driving me on. Swinging my leg over the window ledge and drop to a crouch, before lowering myself down and dropping over the egde. Long-dormant muscles scream in protest as my finger cling to the concrete window ledge. The garbage bin is just to the left of me. If I can just…I swing my weight back and forth until I can’t hold on anymore, and then I release and close my eyes, waiting for the ground to rise up and break me like a fledgling bird. Something hits my ankle hard before I land in a heap of hot, smelly trash. Biting back tears, I clutch my ankle as pain lances through it. I must have just clipped the top of the dumpster. Forcing myself to move, I drag myself over the edge, and hobble behind a small outbuilding. This is so pointless. The likelihood of getting out of here is slim to none. There’s a perimeter fence topped with razor wire and men walking around everywhere. A row of parked cars are maybe twenty feet away. A guy leaves the warehouse via a side door and gets in his car, reversing out before driving across the compound to the gate. The guard waves him through without hesitation. Alejandro is going to come out here soon to bring me back. I need to move. Shoving away from my hiding place, I hobble as fast as I can over to the cars and duck down behind an old Ford SUV. I pull the back door handle. Locked. Damn it. Glancing down the line of cars, I look for something old and shitty. There’s a Honda Accord three cars down. I drop to the floor and roll beneath the car next to me, slowly making my way down the line until I’m next to the Accord.