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 8: PAY IN BLOOD

Dirty. I was still too dirty. He was on my skin, invading my pores and entering into my blood. Too dirty, I couldn't even think about anything else. I felt like I was toilet for him to wash his essence down, just so he could say he owned it. But what was worse was that…

Now I had to believe him.

I wondered what my parents would say, all my not-so-close friends from high school. What would they think when they found out that the girl who never took help from anyone, the one who always ruled her own life, had been completely destroyed and enslaved in a few hours time? They would know why. It was because I was weak. I had allowed these things to be done. I had not persevered and pushed myself through it without breaking down. In the end, I had shivered like a cat left out of the house in the middle of a thunderstorm and cried like a child without its bottle.

I was a slut, a whore to be lent out to those who were willing to pay the right price and there was nothing I could do about it except grin and bear it. Just like James said I would.

Yes, you like that, don't you, Isabella? I see you shaking beneath me. Yes, you enjoy it very much.

Say my name Isabella. Let everyone know who can make you feel this way!

The other girls will be jealous to see that I have spent so much time with you. You will walk out of here proudly, telling them all about how I made you feel. If you can walk, that is…

Scream it, Isabella! Scream! SCREAM!!!!

Unconsciously, I began scratching at the marks on my wrists and ankles, trying to pull the chain-link bruises from the skin. The van jostled us all around, nearly knocking us all over with the force. We had been on the road for days; that I knew. The darkness in the van had changed several times to a lighter shade and on the occasion we were released from the van to relieve ourselves or eat (something the girls did all huddled together with petite bites of their simple sandwiches and careful sips of their water), the sun would either be shining brightly on the open field we stood by or the moon and stars would be white above us on the empty highway. No girl ran away. We all knew that where we were, these places in the middle of nowhere, no one would take us in. There was no one around that cared enough to take in girls that were practically branded with the stench of sweat and semen and blood. All three I could taste in the back of my throat and on my tongue, choking me constantly with the memories and the tears.

It was cold. They had turned up the AC in the van and had refused to let the girls and I change before we left. Our scantily clad bodies weren't producing enough heat and some were just falling asleep next to one another in a strange form of hibernation. I couldn't sleep, not while knowing the men in the large van were there, so close that I could smell the cigarettes on their breath. Katea was sleeping with her head on my shoulder. She had fallen quiet after several hours of sobbing when we first left the building. I didn't even remember leaving. All I remembered was what had happened and how much I had hoped that it had all been some sort of horrible nightmare. It wasn't and I wish I hadn't remembered that little fact. Ignorance is bliss after all.

--

They unloaded us into a warehouse, pushing us all into a large room that was unheated but already stocked with the same military style barracks as the place in New York. We were all forced onto our knees by our selected barracks and pills were pushed into our mouth before they made us swallow them dry. I didn't know what they were for but I was sure that I didn't want to know. After that, they gave us ten minutes before we were supposed to go to bed, like children with a bedtime. Well, maybe I could treat this like a military camp. It would make the picture easier to swallow than the truth.

Katea's bunk was above my own and she quickly pulled me up to her. A layout of creams was already on her bed and she held my hand as she applied them to my bruises. I let her do it even though I knew they would never be able to get the dirt out. Only acid could possibly clean my skin and that would be very hard to find unless we were in a chemistry lab. They burned but I didn't cry out or complain. The other pain between my legs and on my thighs distracted me so much more than this ever could. She spoke to me in Hungarian, not even caring that I couldn't understand what she was saying. It was comforting nonetheless and I found myself drifting off to sleep on her bed. I don't remember what happened after that.

--

The next morning didn't pass quickly. They had us shower where the other girls held me back when I tried to grab for a loofah. They wouldn't allow me to wash myself, to clean off the dirt that was still in my skin. Why wouldn't they let me wash!? I was screaming for them to let me, to just let me get the soap and scrub my skin raw with it but they refused to let go as they lowered the heat of the water and Katea and Rosalie ran a soft washcloth over my bruised skin. The small, gentle strokes weren't enough. They would never be able to wash off the dirt like a hard loofah would. It would never be enough.

After the shower, I felt as if nothing had changed. My hair still reeked of that too moist musky scent that had come off James's skin.

As I made my bed, I noticed how meticulous the other girls were being, how careful they were to make sure everything was in the right place. The clothes they were forced to wear was all perfectly straight and in place and looking new. It wasn't until a few minutes afterwards that I noticed I was being the same way. It bothered me to see that my sheets were rumpled or my pillow wasn't perfectly aligned on the bed. Everything had to be just right, no matter how long it took me to get it that way.

It had surprised me to find that most of the girls, despite their lack of knowledge in speaking English, knew how to read books in English. Many would sit on their beds in groups and just read while occasionally looking up to see if anything new was going to happen. When Katea asked me if I wanted to borrow a book, I merely nodded and took the book from her hand. When I looked over the first words of the book, I couldn't stand to look at them any longer. They were speaking of a normal life. I didn't want to read anymore.

--

Victoria had ushered us half of the girls into one van and the other half into two other vans, scowling at me as soon as I came into view. The girls were shivering, the wind blowing cold and harshly over our bodies. That didn't matter to Victoria. She just talked in Hungarian to the girls while I was left in the dark. I turned to Rosalie in hope that she would tell me. She saw the look I was giving her and quickly explained.

"They are taking us to our first job here in Chicago. I don't understand. They can't honestly expect you to be useful now!" She shook her head, her eyes wide and almost frantic looking as she called to Victoria.

"Victoria, ő semmit! Ő fájdalom. Majd a túl sok. Kérem, mutassa kegyelmezz!" Rosalie cried to Victoria, ignoring the look of anger she was getting from the driver. The other girls began crying out complaints as well in their native tongue.

"Ő nem lesz, azt mondom, amelyek!" Victoria snapped back hastily. "Tudja következményeit a megbízások sem." That quieted them down as they all turned to me with sorrowful looks on their faces. I didn't need to understand what they were saying to know what they were saying. Tonight was my first night and I didn't have a chance.

TRANSLATIONS:

"Victoria, ő semmit! Ő fájdalom. Majd a túl sok. Kérem, mutassa kegyelmezz!" = Victoria, she can't! She is in pain. It'll be too much. Please, show mercy!

"Ő nem lesz, azt mondom, amelyek!" = She will do as I say, as will you.

"Tudja következményeit a megbízások sem." = You know the consequences of defying orders.

When the van finally came to a complete stop, the girls seemed to have a sort of silence that came over them. They held hands with one another and squeezed them gently, trying to give off comfort. The girls took my hands in their own and rubbed soothing circles into my palm and wrist despite the bruises. It was nice to know that I had someone there for me. We were pulled out of the van, me tripping over the heels they had set me in, until we all stood shivering in front of a large house that had lights flashing through the windows, the smell of alcohol in the air. The street looked deserted excluding this one lively house. We were pushed in; some girls dragging their feet while others walked in without resistance, their shoulders slumped.

Victoria and the driver were the only two to watch us. It wouldn't have been hard for the ten girls here to overpower them, but it seemed as if, through it all, the fight was gone. It just wasn't worth it anymore. I wanted to fight but the knowledge of what I had let him do to me was enough to make me feel like a hypocrite, a coward that is telling another coward to be brave.

As soon as we made it to the front door, it opened for us and we were pushed in, Victoria taking the lead in her short red dress and high stiletto heels. The man that was waiting for us eyed us all, his eyes lingering on a few select girls, before he fully faced Victoria, handing her a large envelope.

"Here are your girls, Mr. Parks. I hope you will find them satisfactory." She stepped to the side and allowed the alleged Mr. Parks to roam amongst us. When he came to me, he stopped and leaned down, picking up a strand of my hair and sniffing it. I stiffened, remembering who else had done the same thing not too long ago.

His hands went down to my waist and his nose nuzzled my neck. "Hmmm, I think this one will me accompanying me for a majority of the night," he murmured happily. "They are satisfactory, Victoria, just as you said they would be. Now, I do believe the others are waiting for their…entertainment." Something wet crossed my neck as the fingers around my waist squeezed me a bit too roughly. It took me a moment to realize that it was his tongue and then, I nearly blanched in disgust. Fear was finally setting in again. Before, I had been frozen in a state that hadn't allowed me to speak for days but now that everything was coming back fresh and I would have to experience it again, my blood chilled.

The man pulled me along with him into a larger room, the room that seemed to be holding the loudest of the party goers. As soon as we entered, the hungry eyes of the men drifted over us, taking in our skin and our lack of clothing. They descended upon the girls, a couple men taking one girl while others took them alone to separate rooms or the couches. I saw Rosalie, her body being pushed down to the largest couch in the room. Face down, the man removed her minimal clothing and plunged into her from behind. She didn't even flinch. She just stared unseeingly into an imaginary abyss, never once blinking or making a sound that would tell me if she was in pain or not.

As Mr. Parks led me to a room, he released his grip on me for a second to begin removing his shirt. The instinct to run was strong and pushed me to turn around. As I did, I came face to face with the one person I didn't want to see right now: Victoria.

"You will go in there like a good, obedient girl, and let him do whatever he likes to you. You will do as you are told, do you understand girl?" She spat at me angrily, her voice low and seamed with authority.

"I owe you nothing," I whispered, my eyes unblinking at her. She just smiled at me, her wicked lips turning into a startling smirk.

"Tell that to your family." She held up a two pictures. One had a man in a police uniform opening the car door to an old cruiser and the other held a woman laughing inside her kitchen, both totally oblivious to the fact that they were being photographed.

"Renee, Charlie, how did you find them?" I choked out, unable to say much more. Victoria just smiled and turned me around to face Mr. Parks. He wasn't looking at my face, only my body now. Without another word, he led me into a room that would lead me back to my nightmares and memories.

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.