Summary:Taken by men who are going to rent me out to strangers that will take advantage of me…Brilliant. This wasn't bad luck. It was my sentence to hell. Rated M for adult themes including rape and slavery.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters.
HUMAN TRAFFICKING PART 4: NOT YET
Taken by men who are going to rent me out to strangers that will take advantage of me…Brilliant. This wasn't bad luck. It was my sentence to hell. And this condemning left me wondering what I had done that had led me to this fate. And so many things came to mind.
I had separated myself from my family three years ago, just living and working by myself. It allowed me to focus solely on school and then work when it came along at the studio. The few times that I had actually called Renee or Charlie, I was just giving them a vague update on my life. When I thought back to the days where my mother was my best friend and my aloof father would spend awkward holidays with me in California, the memories never really brought on the waterworks. Of course, having grown up so quickly, metaphorically of course, with a scatter-brained mother who was more child-like than motherly and a father who couldn't cook to save his Chief's badge, I never truly relied on them for support or approval.
Had abandoning my family and the morals that were braided into family relationships been the cause of my punishment or had there been a more troubling sin that I had committed? But the more I continued to think about it, I realized how truly selfish I was being. Obviously, all these girls couldn't have done something so bad that some higher power was choosing to punish them like this. And so my mind was set when James finally called me down from my little safe haven on Katea's bed where I was sobering up from my tear fest. I wouldn't show any sort of emotion to him, he who was just going to sell me out to the first man with a high bid. His strange, almost clingy behavior had already set me on edge, but now, I would be overly cautious. Rather safe than sorry.
From what I had learned in the hour that I was allowed to spend with the other girls, only few knew English. Unfortunately, Rosalie was one of the few and I was too embarrassed to actually go and ask them for help translating what Katea was saying. So when I was held tightly by Katea when James called for me and she whispered words too quickly for me to even hope to understand, I could only guess that there was something important that I was supposed to know. But I had to follow James wherever he wanted me to go, and so I did.
As if ushering a small child, he gently led me back to the room where I had woken with his hand against my lower back. His too warm hand sent shivers up my spine and I tried to walk faster so I would maybe avoid a more pressed touch. James didn't even notice; he continued with his gentle, adoring smile as he continued to lead me away to the room. The last I heard of the barracks were the hushed silence that seemed to spread as soon as I was seen walking away.
The silence always takes place before the storm.
When the door clicked shut behind us, James locked it securely. He watched me cautiously as he moved towards a chair in the corner of the room and left me standing right in front of the door. When he sat, his eyes still on me, he beckoned me forward with a bent finger and I, too worried and scared of what would occur next, did as I was silently asked. I only walked until I reached the center of the room and James didn't object. Instead, he watched me closely with scrutinizing eyes that held me where I was. I felt like the mouse to his cobra and at that moment, the snake was about to catch its prey.
"Remove your clothes, Bella," he ordered suddenly, emphasizing his newfound knowledge of my nickname. There was a hint of eagerness in his voice that peaked through his aggressive, dominating façade. But I couldn't focus on that. Instead, I found myself shrinking away from him, unconsciously wrapping my arms around my torso so as to keep my shirt from mysteriously vanishing from my body. It seemed that as soon as James saw this, a tenderness entered his tone and his eyes softened from their more aggressive feel. He sat up in his seat until his back was perfectly straight against the chair and spoke again, this time seemingly more cautious.
"Bella, remove your clothes right now. I'm afraid that if I invite Victoria in to assist you, she will not find it a pleasant task." I shook my head, unable to stop from shrinking even further into the corner of the room. James growled deeply and stood suddenly, a movement that startled me. "Isabella, you will remove your clothing now or I will go and remove them for you. Now, strip."
My frozen blood thawed enough that my mind reasoned that it would be best to remove the clothing myself rather than have James too close. And so my hands moved on their own accord, my mind being ruled by this new fear of what an angry James would do if I disobeyed him. As soon as my fingers touched the hem of my simple gray shirt, I realized how much they were shaking. Unsure of what to do, I looked at James, the only person I could turn to in this moment. It felt so wrong, looking at my captor for help, but in truth, I had no choice. What was I to do in this situation but hope that he would let me stop? To tell me that this was all some horrible joke played on me by an old high school friend?
But the joke was on me. James nodded for me to continue and I followed the order blindly. Tears escaped my eyes as I hastily pulled the shirt over my head, my hands instantly going to my pants. Somewhere in my mind, the idea that the sooner I finished ridding myself of my clothes, the sooner I could be done with it, took over. So when I pushed my jeans down my legs and stumbled out of them clumsily, a sigh of relief came out of my mouth before I could even think about it. That is, until I looked back up at James.
His eyes weren't on my face. Rather, they were raking over my body like an unwanted parasite searching for a place to start sucking the life out of their host. I felt completely naked, though I still wore my underwear and bra. His mouth was open slightly and his eyes traveled slightly over my more private features before returning up to my face again. It scared me, seeing his light blue eyes darken visibly with a one-sided attraction and lust clouding his sight. "Remove the rest of your clothing, Bella." That's when my sobs were clearly audible.
The situation had been held at bay in my mind for awhile. But now, it was coming out, full blown and in color. And when my fingers unlatched the bra clasps from behind, they shook in recognition of what was to come. My bra fell from my shoulders, falling into my puddle of clothing too quickly for my liking. And so my last obstacle was left, the one thing that was left covering me. My mind almost refused to recognize the feeling of cotton gliding down my thighs and gathering around my feet, leaving me to try and cover myself as best I could with my arms, the cold air raising goosebumps on my skin.
A deep breath was taken from the man sitting on the seat as he stood slowly, eyes remaining solely on my own. James walked up to me, his arms extended to me. I backed away only to trip over my clothing before righting myself and pushing myself back again. He frowned and walked up to me, cornering me against a wall. My arms were pushed away from my body and down to my sides, leaving me completely bare for James to see. And that's when all hell broke loose on my emotions. Never before had I been revealed to a man. Love and lust were in the same boat for me and I was stuck on my belief of not having sex unless it was with someone I loved. And yet here I was, naked before a man I had barely met half an hour ago. This couldn't be happening! I was supposed to have had ended up like Old Lady MacAfee; seventy-eight years old with a fat ginger cat and nothing else to do except bother "younglings" in my apartment building.
His eyes seemed to show recognition for my emotions (well, the scared and worried emotions) but he continued running his hands up and down my arms, caressing me in a way that was much too intimate, too personal to stand.
"Please," I whimpered. Begging was something I would never have done, but now, the pride that I held so close to me meant nothing now, not when this was happening. "Please, just do-don't do this. I can-can't…" My sobs rang through the room and I slid down to the floor, clutching my legs to my chest. I felt so weak, so small. I was so used to being able to control my life, and now, I couldn't even leave. Now, I was under the control of strangers who planned on selling me out for sex, but first, they were going to take away the thing I hadn't even realized I held dear: my virtue.
James leaned down to me and cupped my cheek with his large hand. "Don't worry, Isabella. I'll make it good for you." His voice sounded so caring, so gentle, that I almost believed him. But no, this wasn't what I wanted. Fear and anger and shock still froze my blood, showing me that this was all wrong, that this wasn't how things were supposed to be. That this wasn't even close. I shook my head violently, but that didn't stop his mouth from descending on my own, stealing away my first kiss, a kiss that I was too scared and sickened and terrified to respond to. How pathetic that I, a twenty one year old woman, hadn't even been kissed before. But now that it was happening, being taken from me at the worst moment in the worst situation, I couldn't help but realize how pathetic my life was.
Years of neglecting myself to take care of a young-at-heart mother, practically losing all connections with my biological father because I didn't like the place he lived, watching my mom live a happy life and getting remarried. Nothing about my life even revolved around me. It was all based on my family. I had never even been on a date before. All these selfish thoughts passed through me without a hint of remorse but I couldn't care about anything else but me. So the only thought that passed through my mind as James pulled away from me and unbuttoned his loosely hanging jeans was…
Not yet.
Authors are friends, not food! Don't flame them (and eat them). That, children, is known as cannibalism and is frowned upon in most societies.