Much of this and the next chapter and the next have to deal with drug abuse, hints at human trafficking, prostitution and other mature topics. If you don't' like it… I'm sorry?
Peeta
Six hours, it was six hours since Katrina's father took her.
"I told you, the license plate was GVP-8012. It was a newish Honda CRV, it was red…"
"What else did you see?"
"He bound her wrists and threw her in the back…" I buried my head in my hands, "I can't lose her… I can't…"
Just then my phone started ringing, I looked around the room. Everyone who would bother calling me was in this room, Katrina the screen red.
"Answer it, put it on speaker…"
"Katrina? Hello, where are you?"
"Where are you taking me!" she shouts, there's a rattling, "I'm talking to you asshole!"
"Would you stop kicking my god damn seat for five seconds Trina so I don't crash the car?"
Her breathing is heavy, her phone must be stuffed somewhere he can't see.
"A name… a town, a landmark… anything Kat… please…" I beg.
"Where. Are. You. Taking. Me." She hisses.
"I got a friend in San Antonio who's getting you papers. I'm taking you home baby girl…"
"So that's why we're in Roanoke, Virginia stopping at some cheap ass highway motel?"
"Call the boys down in Virginia, here's the vehicle description…"
"You know Trina, I could make some money off you… Tonight, if you don't mind that smart mouth of yours. Sixteen-year-old… I got a few hundred of your momma back when she was your age."
"Seventeen…" she whispers, "My birthday is tomorrow…"
"One more year, you know the drill, they'd kick you out the second you turn eighteen. It's better I got to you before they forced you on the streets…"
"You can't make me love you…" she says quietly, "I'll die before I call you dad, Liam…" the background noise of the car stops and we can hear a slap, "Do it again Liam, I dare you!" a car door opens and slams.
"I don't know if you can hear me… But I'm so scared…" she cries as the phone rustles, "He's going to do to me what he did to my momma…"
"Get out of the car Trina!"
"Please don't do this! You don't have to do this! I'll shut up, I'll go to Puerto Rico without a complaint, I'll lie… Anything, just please not the needle!" she sobs, but the phone cuts out.
"Needle?"
"Her father… Liam, used heroin to keep her mother around… He's going to do the same thing to her… He's going to kill her! He's going to kill my daughter!" my mother shouts, my father pulls her to him.
"It's ok… they'll find her…"
Katrina
I hung up my cellphone, not wanting them to hear what's next, know I couldn't stop it. My father pulled me from the car basically carrying me as my stiff legs were sore from the kicking I had done to his seat. He took the rope off my wrists, "How do you know I won't run?" I ask weighing my chances of an escape in this motel parking lot.
"Because if you do I'll fill you full of lead…" he hisses, "Now come on, we're stopping for the night. Don't talk, to anyone…" he walks me to the bench outside the lobby. A scantily clad woman walks out of a hotel room, counting bills giving me a strange look.
"Not gonna get many customers dressed like that sweat pea." I look away, she thinks I'm a prostitute…
Please help me… Please, there has to be an Amber Alert out for me… you could save me…
She scratches at her skin, full of track marks, and sores from drug abuse and disease, "Fine, be stuck up. I'm just trying to help you!" she snaps.
I laugh as she walks away, Help me you stupid bitch by calling the cops.
My father walks out of the lobby and grabs me by the arm, opening the last door in the row of rooms shoving me inside, "I thought I told you not to speak with anyone!" his strike came like a cobra.
"She spoke to me… I just laughed at her…"
I stand there as he locks the door and pulls the blinds. We're in one of those rooms where everything is bolted down, definitely pay by the hour, "Sit, girl, and drink this." He hands me a mountain dew bottle, reluctantly I take a sip, but he had drank out of it before, so it couldn't be drugged.
It was laced with something horrible, definitely Everclear. I wanted to spit it out, but the alcohol would numb the pain in my head and the fear in the pit of my stomach.
He's on the room phone, talking to someone about how he has a girl who just turned eighteen, "You a virgin?" he asks.
"No…" I tell him quietly.
"Was it the blonde boy? The one who yelled after you?"
"No…"
"She is… You interested?" he pauses, "Go was up girl, and don't try anything funny…" I throw down the bottle watching it fizz and soak into the stained red carpet, "Yes, cash is good," he tells the person on the other end as I slam the bathroom door closed in time for the meager contents of my stomach to end up in the sink, bile and the neon mountain dew everclear mixture. Enough had stayed in my stomach that I already felt loopy. I splashed water on my face, refusing to brush my teeth or fix myself up.
It's becoming clear how planned this kidnapping was when in ten minutes there's a pounding on the door, "Trina, get out here, now! You got business to tend to."
Was this how he treated my mother? She had me when she was sixteen… Was this man even my father?
I open the door slowly, I look a mess, my white button up stained with my own vomit in a few spots, my black pants wrinkled, my mouth must have smelled like bile and my eyes were bloodshot… but that didn't deter the man from grabbing my face and forcing his tongue in my mouth after my father left the hotel room.
He won't see me cry…
I vow as he rips open my shirt, "Please don't do this…" I whisper as he reaches back and unclasps my bra, "I'm just a kid… please, save me…"my phone falls from its spot tucked in my breasts and I kick it under the bed so I can retrieve it later.
The back of the man's hand meets my cheek, "Less talking more sucking," he's not terrible looking, a little lanky and worn from the sun and most likely meth use, missing a few teeth, but back before he found crank he would have been attractive. He smacks me again, "Now you stupid bitch!"
I lay on the bed long after the man left, then the two after him, every inch of me bruised. Finally I dig through the bag my father had made up for me, inside is soap, shampoo and a change of clothes. I run to the bathroom to vomit again and get the men out of me as soon as possible, yes they used protection, but still. I tilt my head to look up at the clock on the wall, 1:24… Happy Birthday.
"They'll find me… They'll find me…" I whisper knowing the second we get on the plane to Puerto Rico they'll never find me. Yes it's a US territory, but we'll disappear into San Juan, we'll blend in too well.
"You paid for the rest of this trip and then some," Liam tells me counting a wad of cash, "Could have gotten more if you didn't threaten to bite their dicks off if they didn't wear condoms."
I snap my teeth like a shark, "Don't talk to me Liam…" I hiss, he's on me again forcing me to the ground. My head hits the edge of the night stand making me dizzy.
He ties my arms and legs together, unable to trust me I assume… But then I find out his motive when he pulls a bag of white powder, a spoon, a bic and a needle from his coat, "Figured I'd get you hooked on the good stuff, you'll appreciate it more…"
"Please, no… I did what you wanted, I got you your money, just please!" like a pro he pours some powder on the spoon and lights the bic, melting it before he pulls some into the needle, pushing out all the air bubbles.
"I'm going to make you need me Katrina, so you never run away again. You're my daughter, I never wanted it to end up like this…"
"It doesn't have to…" I sob as he ties his belt around my arm, "Please… Please stop…" he pulls it tight cutting off the circulation and making my veins pop.
I don't remember much after the prick of the needle, other than a blinding euphoria that lasted only a few hours.
Whatever he used on me was strong… Too strong. He repeated this process every six hours as we drove form Roanoke to our next stop, just outside of Nashville Tennessee.
"We're stopping for a few days," he tells me as we enter the hotel room. I can't respond, shakes taking over me. I couldn't even think as he drove. I should have called Peeta… Should have told him where I was… Should have called 911.
I need it, I need more.
I fall to the ground, shivering. It's so cold in this room, every inch of me hurts. The headache I had before the incident only intensified without my dosage of heroin every few hours.
My skin is slick with sweat and I'm positive I've wet myself at least twice in the last few days. He tells me it will get easier once we're in San Juan, once we're with family.
My family is back in Pennsylvania… Probably thinking I'm dead.
When he leaves to get food I pull my cellphone, which I had shut off to save the charge out of my purse which Liam still hasn't checked.
I hit redial, unable to think of how to call for an emergency, "Katrina?"
"Peeta…" I whisper, "It hurts so bad, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" I whisper, curled up in the corner, it had been eight hours since my last high. I was coming down in a bad way. Liam told me he was using the purest he could find to get me good and dependent.
It was working.
"Katrina, where are you?"
"Nashville… I didn't see the motel…" I can barely breathe, the pain in my chest crippling me, "I think I'm dying, Peeta…"
"You have to hold on…" I hear the door open and end the call, shoving the phone in my bra.
I have to hold on.
He takes my barefoot and injects my dosage into my foot, leaving me to ride out the high writing on the floor in my own filth.
I can't do this… I can't do this… My heart feels like a fist is gripping it, my malnutrition and the heroin taking its toll. He fed me once a day, always fast food and it always came up.
Three days pass and I only leave the corner to attempt to use the toilet. My phone dies and I'm too weak to find the charger as my father sleeps, never binding me again since I can barely walk anymore. He doesn't attempt to sell me after the second day, I've grown too disgusting, the now once every four hour injections leaving me absolutely useless.
He rolls me over in time for my next round, never giving me enough, always shooting me up with enough to ensure I crave it, but don't overdose.
He goes in the second I seem to be coming down from my high. I hear a clunk, my phone falling out of my bra which is only half on, the underwire of the top cup resting across my nipple, it hurt at first, then I forgot about it.
He kicks me swiftly in my stomach, I'd vomit if there was anything in me, "Stupid bitch! Did you call the cops?"
I can't respond, just stare, the wind was just forced out of me, so he kicks me in the face.
"We're leaving!" he hauls me to my feet but I fall to the ground, "Trina, stop acting like chickenshit and walk!" he stands me up again but I just fall.
Please just let me die…
Let go Katrina… my heart is thumping slow and in my throat as the needle meets my vein once again, in a hopes I can walk to the car so we can make the escape we don't need to make. How does he expect me to get on a plane?
I feel the fire through my veins as the intoxicating drug once again takes over, but it's never enough… Never even close to take away the pain, the thirst, the need.
I feel so sick, so weak, he must have made a mistake, I must be overdosing.
I can't do this… I can't do this…my heart is racing getting out its last beats while it can. Nice and quick.
I'm sorry everyone… I feel a numbness in my chest as my heart finally quits, not soon after that my brain follows.
