Page 109 of Beast

We climbed into my truck and Annie had a big grin on her face.

“What?”

“I knew you’d like him.”

“He’s cool. Different than how I thought he’d be.”

“See?” She rubbed my thigh. “I told you nothing was going on.”

We backed out of the parking lot, and drove away. She squeezed my hand.

Later that night, after Gabriel went to sleep, Annie cuddled up to me. “I’ll tell you what happened.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“No. I want to. I’m calm now. I just have to separate the experience from myself, you know? I have to be in the right state of mind to talk about it.”

I nodded. Looking in her eyes would make this conversation too painful. For her. For me.

She took a deep breath and spoke in a whisper. “About two years after I was taken, these two American men came to the brothel. Not the same one you met me at, but a different one in Aruba. They were in their mid-thirties, one guy had brown hair and one guy was a redhead.”

Holy shit. My muscles quivered. Dave was right. I didn’t want Annie to see any reaction from me. “Go on.”

“Well, the first time they showed up, they chose two other girls. But I swear to God they both recognized me. When you picked me, you barely gave me a second glance, but the pimp allowed customers to ‘check out the merchandise’. The redhead got right in my face, as he walked down the line. Looked straight at me, even stared at my ankle, like he was looking for my tattoo, you know? I thought for sure he was going to pick me that night, but he didn’t. Around a week later they returned, but this time they chose Nicole and me. We’d been picked together before, sickos wanting to watch some girl on girl action. We were both cautious yet hopeful, thinking maybe they would recognize us. I mean, they were American.”

I ground my teeth. This was almost unreal.

“We went back to the room. They didn’t talk, just kind of motioned at us what they wanted us to do. To each other. Then to both of them.” Her hands made fists. I wanted to take my gun out and shoot something. “So after that, they just kind of lay there. They didn’t bolt like most guys do.” She pointed at me.

Guilty.

“So, I thought they recognized us. I was so excited and still had hope back then. I opened my mouth to tell them our names, but Nicole stopped me. She didn’t want to get in trouble. I didn’t care. Nicole had this look of sheer terror. The redhead, I remember, took this long, like, pained breath. I thought for sure he knew our stories, who we were. But the other man, he was really cold. He stood up and they left. The redhead looked back at me when he left the room and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’ I knew he recognized me. I was so positive he was going to come back. And I guess I’d even convinced Nicole we were going to be rescued. That at least they would share the sighting with my folks, and someone would come save us.”

My ears pounded. These motherfuckers, possibly former SEALs, found these two Americans there, and left them to die! They couldn’t be SEALs; we were bound to a higher code.

Granted, I clearly didn’t always live my life with uncompromising integrity. But I couldn’t fathom these men leaving these girls, knowing they were trafficked.

Her hand was shaking now. “But after six months, nothing. I was so fucking mad at them. I mean, why couldn’t they tell someone? This was my life that had been stolen. I was a sex slave. How could they recognize us and do nothing? And I was pissed at myself for believing I would be saved. Nicole lost it. I mean, she went crazy. Started mouthing off to the pimps, refusing clients, even begging for extra heroin. I pleaded with her to stay strong. We would find a way out. Somehow. Someday. Together. But she wanted to die. She stole my drugs, and some from a few other girls and shot herself up. And I wanted to die, too. But I had Gabriel. I had to hope for him. I couldn’t stop feeling sorry for myself. Why me? Of all the girls who got drunk on spring break, why me? Then I remembered years ago hearing about a girl who had been kidnapped for ten years and escaped. It was possible. So why should I give up? I had to get out—for me, for Gabriel, for Nicole. I had a life to live. I had to survive no matter what. That’s when I made the decision not to give up. The next time I met a man who I even thought could save me, I would take the chance. Risk it all.”

I held her, stroked her forehead. “Thanks for telling me. It means a lot to me. I’m not going to leave you, Annie. I’ll always be here for you.”

“You’re my hero.”

We didn’t talk for the remainder of the night. Yet, my thoughts raced. There was no more doubt. I was one hundred percent committed to Annie. Committed to making her happy.

But I still didn’t have the entire story straight. Who were these men, who hired them, and why did they leave the two girls behind, when they were completely capable of saving them?

The only thing I was sure of was I wouldn’t rest until I found out what the fuck was going on.

33

Annie

WHY DID PAT WANT TO know? What was he up to?

No one knew what happened in the brothel. I hadn’t uttered a word, besides that basic timeline and facts to anyone. Not my parents, not my therapist. Not even Pat. My father had convinced me that sharing my sob story would turn me into a media target, endanger my life and the life of my child. Reporters, photographers would stalk me. People in the grocery store would look at me with a combination of disgust and pity. Gabriel would be ostracized at school—teased for what his father had done to me.

But was my father right?