Page 5 of Dirty

Maybe.

TWO

Lex

Standing up to our abductors wasn’t possible. Their overall treatment of us was proof that they wouldn’t hesitate to kill us if we challenged them.

As I was the eldest of the group, I felt obligated to take charge and attempt to protect the others from the wrath of the monsters who held us at their mercy. With limited resources, I had only one bargaining chip.

Offering myself any time the man with tattoos on his face wanted someone for sex.

I reached a point that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, because I did. But the only control I had left was to not react. And, not reacting meant nothing mattered.

I wouldn’t allow it to.

I decided I wasn’t going to allow them to cause me any more harm. So, what they did to me became insignificant.

I was done feeling. And, when I was numb, I could protect my captive family.

The minutes clicked passed one by one and managed to eventually shave an hour off the clock. The hours merged into one another, with us whispering stories of who we were and where we were from, and when it finally got quiet, we knew another day had passed.

With each passing day, as the girls went to sleep, I prayed. Not for freedom, for food, or for better conditions, but for strength.

I knew it was going to take a miracle for us to be freed, and I prayed for the strength to live long enough to witness it.

We memorized each other’s names, addresses, and telephone numbers, repeating them over and over while humming a song we made up. If one of us escaped, we were going to tell the authorities each of the other girl’s names and addresses.

We made a pact.

Sarah was the dreamer, and to pass the time and keep everyone’s spirits up, she led a nightly discussion of what we were going to do when we broke free. Our conversations typically included where we were going to eat, who we were going to see, and what being in that horrid place caused us to miss about the freedoms associated with living our day-to-day lives.

The list of the things we’d taken for granted was unbelievably simple.

Me: Being clothed.

Sarah: Sunshine.

Marbella: Her bedroom.

Kate: Going to the bathroom.

Jess: Not having to ration water.

Debby: Food

Leah: Hearing the birds sing.

And, Mary: Taking a walk.

Making simple choices no longer existed, and we were well aware of it. If freed, I told myself I would never again complain about the tag on my tee shirt causing me to itch, or how southern California’s sun baked my pale skin. I’d comply gratefully when my mother asked if I wanted to meet for lunch or go shopping.

Although I took part in the talks, I had very little concern with what my first meal was going to be, or how much I missed my family. My only real worry was survival, but I wasn’t about to share that with the other girls.

Somehow, be it a result of fate or by my insistence that he choose me first, none of them were abused after I was abducted. As a result, they all looked at me as their guardian.

In that type of situation, a person needs something to hold onto. Something that offers hope. A photo or a good luck charm would have been nice, but we had nothing but each other.

So, every night when it got quiet, we huddled in each other’s arms.