The car finally came to a halt. For a moment, everything went quiet – to quite.
Then, with a slam, the door flew open and the men dragged me out, hauling me toward a massive truck parked at the far end of the road. One of the men who had been with the others removed his mask. His hazel green eyes locked onto mine, sharp and intense. I couldn't explain why but something inside me shifted the moment our gazes met.
He stood there with a grim, unwelcomed expression, but then a flicker of pity softened his eyes. Was this guy for real? did he actually feel sorry for what he'd done?
I wanted to believe he might help me escape, but we were surrounded by men and maybe I was just imagining things. When we reached the truck, I saw there were already dozens of women piled inside – so many that I quickly lost count. Their faces were hollow and frightened, some with fresh bruises and scratched, evidence of attempts to fight back or escape.
A few still tried to resist even as the men shoved them forward. One woman, wild-eyed and desperate, struggled fiercely, trying to slip between the guards. But they caught her quickly, dragging her back with harsh grunts and rough hands. Her screams were cut short, swallowed by cold air.
Others sat silently, some rocking gently, whispering prayers or softly sobbing. The heavy weight of hopelessness hung over them all like a dark cloud.
I swallowed hard and tried not to meet their eyes. There was no comfort to be found here, only shared fear and the haunting question of how long it would be before we were all lost.
After what felt like hours of driving to nowhere, the truck stopped and men in black suits began unloading us. They pushed and shoved us toward a dock where a boat waited like a shadow in the dark.
The boat was larger than I expected – cold steel walls, rust creeping at the edges, its deck slick with moisture from the sea spray. The faint smell of salt and diesel mixed with something more sour – fear. We were shoved onto the lower deck, a dimly lit, cramped space with rough wooden benches bolted to the walls.
The air was thick and heavy, damp with the scent of sweat and despair. The women around me tried their best to mask their terror, but it was impossible. Quiet sobs and sniffles broke through the silence. Some whispered prayers, others stared blankly ahead, frozen in shock.
"Stop crying, you fools!" a harsh voice barked from the doorway slicing through the fragile silence. His command only made the crying worse.
I inched away from the door, trying to find some small corner of safety. That's when I noticed a girl, barely more than a child, staring at me with wide, tear-filled eyes. Her cheeks stained with tears, and her nose was red and running. She couldn't have been more than thirteen – too young for this nightmare.
"Are you okay?" I asked her quietly, knowing the answer.
She didn't respond but curled up in a ball next to me, resting her head in my lap. The boats engines rumbled to life, shaking the deck beneath us as we pulled away from the shore. Darkness pressed against the windows and the water's endless blackness swallowed the world outside.
As the boat cut through the waves, the low murmur of whispered fears and soft sobbing of the women filled the stale air. There was no escape, no hope. Just the cold certainty that we were trapped, floating toward an unknown fate.
Exhaustion washed over me and my eyelids grew heavy. Holding the girl close, I finally let sleep claim me, even as my heart pounded with dread.
Later that night, something stirred me awake, a soft hand stroking my hair. I wanted to open my eyes and find myself back at home, to realize it was all a nightmare but I knew that it wasn't.
"I know you're awake," a low voice whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. "Normal people more a bit in their sleep."
I kept my eyes shut, not wanting to deal with whoever was standing over me. If he wanted to talk, there were plenty of other women down below he could go bother, probably prettier ones.
"Look at me," he demanded, voice sharper now, forcing me to open my eyes.
Reluctantly, I obeyed.
There he was, hazel green eyes hovering over me with a blanket in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He places them gently in front of me.
"You don't talk much, do you?" he said eyes flicking over the things he brought me, then back to me, silently urging me to take them.
I didn't understand why he was being thoughtful. If he wanted to be kind, he should have left me alone.
"But then again," he adds quietly, "I did kidnap you." He sounded almost… guilty but shouldn't feel sorry. This was his job, a skilled kidnapper doing what he was paid to do. Some people choose the wrong career paths thinking it'll earn them more money.
"Thanks for stating the obvious," I replied flatly, not bothering to hide my sarcasm. I wished he'd just leave me alone. He didn't respond, stood there staring, running his fingers through his matte dark hair. He lingered like that for a while, glancing around as if checking if anyone was watching – watching us.
"Someday, you'll thank me for kidnapping you," he said quietly, then turned and walked away.
He took his post again at the entrance, eyes scanning past the crowd – but I knew he was looking right at me with something close to certainty before pretending I didn't exist at all