Chapter 2: The Escort
Elaine
"How long has she been out?"
"A few hours now. We're almost done." More tears at my skin broke through my deep sleep, stirring me.
"Well hurry up, he's getting impatient out there." Someone was flustered, moving around the room as if the ground was hot to touch.
"Well, it's his fault for asking for this amount of detail."
I could feel the throbbing again, this time from the middle of my back. I couldn't decide which was worse; the searing agony as he pressed the needles into my spine, or the dull burn of my chest and thighs that were pressed into the metal table.
"Oh, hell, she's moving," I heard one of the brothers as he leaned near my head to move my hair and expose my neck.
"Do it before she wakes up."
Before I could register why his hand was holding my head down, I heard a loud hum and beeping noise followed by a searing burn just behind my left ear.
This woke me up real fast. All of my senses returned, the sharp smell of the room, the chill of the metal table, the aggressive sound of the tattoo gun. Even though I could've opened my eyes, I didn't want to. I wanted to stay under, senseless, lifeless.
"The brand is done," the youngest announced as he stood up.
Brand. I was branded, I repeated, making sense of the burn. As if the tattoos weren't enough.
The eldest tenderly continued his strokes that ended at the base of my shoulder blades. "By the time she comes to, I'll be finished."
My breath hitched in my throat as he hit a tender portion of my back. Every part of my flesh, tattooed or not, was fatigued. I didn't know how long I had been unconscious but I felt as if I needed days of sleep to make up for it. As the gun ran over raw skin I winced, giving away that I was, in fact, awake.
"There you are, Elaine," the eldest brother set down the tattoo gun with a metallic clank.
I hesitated before opening my eyes, my vision was just as blurry before I passed out. My cheek was pressed so hard into the table that my teeth had imprinted the inside of my mouth. I lifted my head slowly, gazing around me as I blinked to focus my eyesight.
"Good morning, starshine. Hope you got enough sleep, you got a long trip ahead of you," he rubbed an ointment on my back carefully, alleviating some of the stinging from the fresh marks.
The restraints around my wrists and feet had been removed while I was unconscious. I rolled my feet and wiggled my toes trying to wake them from their numbness. My fingers tingled as I clenched my fists, regaining sensation in them.
"Don't roll onto your side," he warned, noticing my attempt to rise off the table. "Sit up on your knees first."
I did as instructed, realizing I would have rolled onto fresh wounds. As I shifted, different parts of my flesh tightened and flexed with my muscles, causing my face to wince with each jolt of pain.
"How long will I hurt like this?" I asked as I shifted my feet off the edge of the table, sitting down on my butt.
"Give it a few days and you'll start to feel better," the younger brother answered.
I didn't want to look at myself. I was too scared of the mutilation that had been done. Not that I could've anyway— there wasn't a mirror in sight. I would now, and forever, be seen on the street and recognized as someone's property. All the pain aside, I felt sick to my stomach. I lowered my gaze as I planted my feet on the cool tile.
"You've been asked to put this on," the younger brother held up a garment made of black fabric.
The material looked comfortable enough, though I would definitely be cold wherever we were going. As I slid into it, I realized how much of the dress was sheer, including a majority of the bodice that plunged down my front. The back was low, settling on the top of my ass. There were two slits up the front, reminiscent of Pheme's gown, as the sheer skirt flowed to my ankles. I felt practically naked.
I looked around the ground for shoes, but seeing as neither brother had any to give me, I assumed I would travel barefoot.
Figures, I sighed. He wants every part of you bare so he can—
"He's ready for you outside," the eldest nodded towards the door as he cleaned the utensils. "Don't keep him waiting."
My feet felt as if they were made of cement, adhered to the floor. I swallowed hard as all the discomfort that tingled across my body suddenly evaporated and gave way to the fear that flooded my veins. I tilted my head up as I walked across the room, my hair tickling my back as it swayed. I watched my trembling hand reach out and grasp the door, hesitating before pulling it open with a loud creak.
He stood just feet from the door, his hands planted firmly on his back. My eyes scanned every inch of him, trying to remember if he matched the voice that had placed the winning bid. From what I could recall, he didn't fit the description at all.
He wore some type of military uniform, gray and bulky on his small frame. The belt around his waist cinched it in place and his black, leather boots came up to his knees. As I inspected him closer, I noticed the hat on his head had an insignia on it that I couldn't quite make out.
"Ma'am," he saluted me, his dark, brown eyes fixated on me.
I looked around, slightly confused.
"You are to come with me, we are already behind schedule and the General will be especially displeased," he explained.
My eyebrows furrowed together as I repeated his words in my head. So this wasn't the man who purchased me. "Can I please go to my room and grab something?"
Please, just let me get her comb. I pleaded.
He shook his head. "No time, we must go now."
Mama came up behind me, shooing me. "You heard what he said, girl! Go!"
I stumbled forward, defeated, as he led me through the parlor room to the door. The stage now looked dark and dull without a pretty girl and colored lights to decorate it. I looked over my shoulder as he held the door open for me. I never considered this place home, but I had known love here. With a final breath of resolution, I turned away from Mama Maeve's, determined that I would never come back again.
As he guided me through the dark, damp alleyways lit up with neon I realized how late in the night it must have been. All city commotion had quieted; the only sound was his boots that clunked on the pavement as we walked.
I resolved to follow in silence, partially because I couldn't find any words to fit the situation, but I was also focused on avoiding any glass shards and debris that threatened my bare feet. My body was a fumbling mess of aches and stings as I wearily padded along.
We were never allowed outside of Mamas for fear that we would be snatched up for another house. Once, Pheme and I snuck out of our rooms late at night, suppressing our giggles as we played in the street while throwing stones into a large puddle next to a dumpster.
"Pheme, can we please leave?" I begged while tugging on her arm. "We don't have to go back, we could go somewhere far away, together!"
"We can't, Laina," she shook her head. "Trust me, it's more dangerous out there than it is with Mama."
I remember finding that hard to believe. How would she know? What did she see out there that scared her so much to pick a life of bondage over freedom?
We arrived at a loading dock that contained a variety of ships of all sizes and varying qualities. There wasn't a soul around but a few rats that scurried as we passed. Only one ship in the lot was lit and hummed as its engines idled, hinting that we reached our destination.
It looked like one of the TIE fighters that some of the girls had drawn pictures of whose villages were raided by the new imperial army— blast, what were they called?— but this one was bigger. The loading platform lowered with a loud hiss and my escort held out his gloved hand for me. I took it and stepped onto the platform, the metal ridges in the floor digging into my damp feet as I climbed aboard.
He guided me into the shuttle, where a couple of men in the same uniform were seated, awaiting our arrival. As I got a better look at them, I realized how out of place I was. Each was dressed in matching military uniforms that covered them from head to toe. I suddenly remembered that every inch of my body was on display, heat spreading onto my cheeks. I wrapped my arms in front of me as if shielding their gaze could make the shame go away.
"You're late, you know," the blonde one noted as he stood to greet his comrade. His size intimidated me as I passed, my gaze lowered.
"I'm very well aware," my escort retorted. "Have a seat," he motioned to one of the many benches that lined the walls inside the cargo hold.
I did as I was told and turned to sit down. My knees and ankles breathed a sigh of relief as the weight of my body leaned back. I kept my arms firmly planted in front of my chest, refusing to expose any more of my body.
"Carson! Let's get this clunker off the ground unless you'd like to be butt-fucked by Hux," the blonde one shouted as he sat down across from me.
"Isn't that what she's for?" the one I assumed was Carson poked his head in from the cockpit. I glued my eyes to the ground, pretending to find a particular section of the grate more interesting than their blatant banter about me.
The blonde one across from me chuckled heartily, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Of course she is, but who says he won't have the both of you?"
"Shut it, Declan," my escort snapped at the blonde. It was fascinating to hear the difference in his tone from when he addressed me as 'ma'am' earlier. "Carson, let's go."
"Ok, ok, we're going," Carson dipped back into the cockpit as the loading pad rose back into the ship with a loud grinding of metal.
Using my peripheral vision I took inventory of the men that surrounded me.
My escort seated himself a few seats down from me, keeping his distance but staying close enough to continue his mission of taking me to 'the General.' He rested back in his seat casually, propping one of his legs up on his opposite knee as he rested his head against the wall of the shuttle.
There was another man who had yet to speak. I hardly even noticed he was there. His eyes were a gray color, looking almost black from a distance. He sat upright in his seat, stone-cold and rigid, his boots firmly planted on the floor with his hands folded in his lap. There was something off about him, though I couldn't place it.
And lastly, the blonde one, Declan, was still staring directly at me as if he was waiting for me to make eye contact with him. I decided I would avoid returning the favor at all costs. Something in my stomach writhed as his unwavering gaze studied my every move.
"How long is this going to take?" my escort asked, wearily.
"It will take a couple of hours to reach Jakku," the man in the corner answered, his voice even and direct.
My escort groaned, taking off his cap and rubbing his face with his hands. "Fuck, I'm exhausted," he uttered.
You're exhausted? My upper lip twitched.
I squeezed my thighs tightly together as the ship's engines began to rumble. My stomach rolled at the realization that I had only ever flown once — while I was blindfolded and crying for my mother.
Every part of my body fought to stay awake as the shuttle lifted off the ground. The pain that pulsated on my skin had dulled by now, overpowered by my fatigued muscles and joints. But I refused to close my eyes. At least last time I trusted the men wouldn't do anything to me while I was under. Now, I felt like a helpless animal caged with treacherous predators who were waiting to strike as they licked their lips, patiently awaiting their opportunity to strike.
The quiet one wasn't kidding— it was a long ride to Jakku. We all sat in silence, letting the ambient noise of the ship entertain us. There were no windows in the shuttle as the loud rumbles and rattles of the ship quieted when we broke through the atmosphere. I desperately longed to look outside; I had to know if all of Pheme's stories were true.
None of the men slept, either. I couldn't tell if it was because they had orders to keep an eye on me or if they wanted to stay awake to see what I looked like when my arms were away from my chest. Either way, I was uncomfortable. After about an hour or more of nothing, no movement or conversation, my head began to fall now and then, threatening to rest on one side or the other.
"I'm glad you're here," Declan suddenly broke the silence.
I blinked rapidly and swallowed the tiredness so I could focus. Instead of responding verbally I gave a subtle grin and nodded slightly.
He smirked and rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. "Maybe with you around to take his edge off he'll finally lay off of us."
I chewed the inside of my lip and resisted to acknowledge him. The heat that rose in my cheeks mimicked my increasing disdain for this man.
"Though I'd hate to be you— that poor bastard probably hasn't fucked anything other than his hand before. You'll have to be patient with him," he chewed something, maybe a toothpick, while he chuckled. "Oh, hell, he's going to wreck your perfect little—"
"That's enough, Declan," my escort barked from beside me. I hadn't even noticed that he was awake. I wanted to thank him somehow but I refused to budge or display any emotion.
"Oh, come on, Silas," Declan rolled his eyes. "Look at her, he's going to—"
Silas, I repeated, putting a name to my protector's face.
"It's not our concern what he does with her," Silas countered. "Our job is to get her there and keep your damn hands off," he emphasized.
"Fine," Declan resigned, raising his hands as he shifted his weight back in his seat. "But he never said we couldn't get a gander."
Silas shook his head, folding his arms over his chest.
Thank you, Silas. I pretended he could hear my appreciation. The only question was would it be enough to keep Declan at bay.
"Come with me," Silas rose from his seat, motioning for me to follow him.
I stood immediately, my joints groaning in resistance. I wrapped my arms tighter around my chest and strode just behind him, feeling Declan's cold eyes on my ass as I walked.
Silas led me to the cockpit where the one called Carson was positioned, idly watching the dashboard.
"Carson," Silas ordered. "Go take a break. I got it for a while."
"Thank fuck," Carson stood from the pilot's chair and squeezed past us, eyeing me as he tried to make sense of why I was there. I, too, was trying to figure it out as Silas took his place.
"Here," he reached for a latch on the wall next to him and tugged it down, creating a seat for me.
Once more I let my body weight rest on the bench, sighing softly in relief to be off my feet.
"How are you holding up?" he inquired as he fiddled with some of the controls.
My eyebrows furrowed together as I tried to decide if I felt ready to speak or not. I found that my eyes resisted the urge to look around as they remained fixated on the floor.
"It's ok," he added and swiveled the chair around to face me. "I know you've been through a lot."
"How do you know what I've been through?" I blurted out, the skin on my lips splitting as they parted for the first time in hours.
He did a double-take as he realized that I spoke. "I— I guess I don't," he acknowledged. He toyed with his hands in his lap uncomfortably, pondering how to continue from a rocky start. "I'm sorry," he muttered after some time.
This caught me off guard. No one had ever said the words 'I'm sorry' to me before. "What are you sorry for?" I wondered aloud. I forced my eyes to move from the ground to his boots—an improvement, but not quite comfortable yet.
"My sister was taken when I was little," he recalled, running his hand through his buzzed hair. "We never found out what happened to her, but we assumed...well, you know," his eyebrows rose and fell as he insinuated.
My eyes inched closer to his face as a wash of familiarity came over me. Something about him, maybe it was the way he protected me earlier, made me want to trust him.
"I can't imagine what you've been through," he murmured.
Part of me appreciated his attempt to reach through to me, while my bitter half rejected the unwelcomed efforts.
I don't need your pity, I sneered. Your apology doesn't undo what's been done.
I nodded silently.
He understood that I clearly had no desire to talk with him. His eyes wandered around the cramped corner frantically searching for something else to say.
"Have you ever flown a ship?"
Something child-like leaped in my chest— excitement, maybe— as I shook my head.
I saw out of the corner of my eye a grin flicker on his mouth as he shifted from his seat. "Well, come here and I'll show you," he urged.
My brain told me I shouldn't, wanting to stay firmly planted in my chair.
Oh, come on, I groaned. You'll have plenty of time to follow orders and live like a slave when you get there. I suddenly found myself plopping down in the pilot's chair as he stood behind me, leaning over to direct me on what to do.
My eyes gazed out the windshield, my mouth falling open as I took it all in. The darkness was intimidating, how expansive it was, blanketing everything in sight with specks of stars that looked like the speeders in the sky at night. I immediately felt incredibly insignificant, reasoning that I do not even amount to one of the numerous stars that broke through the blackness. I realized instantly that Pheme was right; if it looked this beautiful out here, I wouldn't blame anyone for wanting to live in it.
"So this here is your engine, your thrusters," he began pointing at various buttons and levers around the console in front of me. "This is the hyperdrive, your navigation, and the shields."
"What is on Jakku?" I questioned, unable to peel my eyes away from the neverending sky.
"Jakku?" he repeated. "Oh, we aren't actually going to Jakku. The Finalizer is stationed in its orbit while they complete the mission on the surface."
It was then that I tore my eyes away from the glass to look at him. I registered everything he had said, picking out the pieces that had yet to fit into my puzzle.
Wait...we weren't going to a planet after all? I pondered over this as I stared at his cap once again. I couldn't remember where I recognized it until I got a clearer view of it.
Most recently, one of the newest girls to Mama's house had been brought in from a planet called Castilon, which had been taken over by the new imperial army. She cried for days when she first arrived, recalling the horrors as troopers and military overran their station, pirates snatching some of the children in the chaos. I ran pictures through my head she had colored and taped to her windows, the light illuminating the dull shades of color on the paper from behind. There was one in particular, with stick figures and poorly-drawn TIE fighters that I stared at once; it had the same geometric, multi-pointed star shape that I recognized on his cap.
Dammit, what did she call them? I wracked my brain.
"Silas, we're about ready to— what the hell?" Carson appeared around the corner, catching us by surprise. "Are you insane?" he looked between Silas and me.
"She's fine," Silas brushed him off. "Let's go," he waved for me to stand up and move out of the way.
Carson stared with his jaw slightly ajar before sitting back down. "You're gonna lose your job one of these days, Silas."
He turned to me with a smirk, rolling his eyes. "Come on, sounds like we're getting ready to land soon."
I had so many questions swirling around in my head as I returned to my original seat. I wanted to see The Finalizer— whatever that was— come into view at the window. I tried harder to remember what the young girl had called the militia as it sat impatiently on the tip of my tongue. I wished that Silas had told me more about General Hux and who he was— or perhaps, it was for the best that I didn't know, at least for now.
