Warnings: This will include dark elements, abuse, trauma, neglect, kidnap, including non/dubcon. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Cole Turner
Summary: you're the least valuable among the bunch, but it doesn't mean someone won't want you. (another wife-buying fiend)
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“Teyona,” you whisper, “Tee.”
You reach over as the small slat of light at the seam of the metal shelter barely reaches you. You can see the shape of the young woman curled up beside you, feel her shivering as you press your palm to her forehead. She’s feverish and gibbering.
“Hey, honey, shhh.” You pet her sweaty hair. “Here, I saved some, for you.”
You take the bottle of water you kept crushed under you. There’s maybe a mouthful left. It’s hardly enough for her. You angle her around and pull her head into your lap. You feel around her lips before you tip the trickle of water into her mouth and rub her throat. She swallows with a croak.
“Is she gonna be okay?” Marska whispers from her other side, her accent thick around her words.
“I don’t know.” You admit softly, mindful of your volume. You glance towards the line of light, wary of one of the men passing by.
“Sick.” Marska states in her fractured English.
“Yes,” you agree.
You hold the girl against you, rocking her, caressing her cheek. You never thought you had any maternal instinct. At your age, most people assumed so. Seems you finally found it.
Teyona’s nineteen. She was on her way to college when she spun out on the country roads and woke up here. She wanted to study biology but her grades were too low so she went into economics instead. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but she’d take it now.
She asked you about your college years. You would tell her when you couldn’t hear the constant pace of soles outside, or the voices, the laughter. It was easier to tell her about the girl who was than the woman who’s now stuck in this place. The middle-aged office worker who was just taking the urn of her dead cat out to the beach to scatter.
The clanging on the side of the shipment crate echoes through you. You sink into your shoulders as the clamour rattles your skull. Several girls whine but they move quickly.
“On your bellies, girls.” A voice hollers through as the banging continues.
Shoot. You spread Teyona out. She whimpers and drones. You get her on her stomach then spread out. You put your hands on the back of your head, your face between the feet of the girl ahead of you.
The doors are pulled open. You stare down at the ground. You look up and you won’t do it a second time. Not after you feel the butt of the rifle.
The men’s shadows stretch over the prone bodies, trembling and gulping on the cold metal. Boots stamp down, stepping carelessly between the women. You hold your breath, not for yourself but Teyona.
You’re not stupid. The men told you themselves. You’re not meant to be here. You’re too old but maybe if they put a bag on your head…
“Well, better something than nothing, right?” One man scoffs.
“Where the fuck is she? Look for grey.” The other snickers.
You frown. They can’t mean... A third man kicks your side. “The old one’s here.”
You resent that. You don’t say so but you’ve caught a few glimpses of them. They’re not all spring chickens.
“Hey, let’s get her up.”
The man who kicked you grabs one elbow and another man takes the opposite. They haul you up. Panic swells in your stomach. Not for yourself, but for the girl on the ground shivering and slack on the metal as the outside beams in. Marska reaches over to take her hand. She’ll take care of her.
You don’t have a choice. The men pull your arms down and twist them behind you. The march you out of the crate. You squint at the brightness. The warmth of the sun is a relief from the humidity of the dark freight.
Why you? Why now? This can’t be good. You already understand what’s happening. Where the others go. Not the specifics, but the purpose. Women sold to the highest bidder.
“This way.” The first man commands as he leads the way.
You walk stiffly, chafing in their grasp, yet happy for the extra support. They walk you around the length of the freight and past another. As you come around the corner, there’s a man waiting by a truck.
His hands are in his pocket, then out of them. He paces back and forth as he pulls his gestures in silent conversation with himself. He scratches his sandy hair and turns on his heel, giving a start as he sees you and the men.
He wears jeans and a carhaart jacket. He looks like an average guy. Tall, maybe a few years youngrt than you, his boots scuffed and his plaid shirt slightly sweaty. He shoves his hands in his pockets again, fisting them under the fabric.
“This is all we got in your price range, guy.” They shove you ahead.
You stumble and the man’s face lights up in surprise and dismay. He opens his arms and catches you. Your head lands against his chest as you groan.
“Sorry…” you rasp.
“Hey, you don’t have to be so rough with her.”
“Ha. Don’t play like that. We all know what this is.” The guard retorts. “Now you have two minutes to get the fuck out of here and not come back. You’re lucky I didn’t beat you down coming in here with no money.”
“It’s all I got,” the man says.
“Ours not. Get.” The other retorts.
The man who holds you shifts you in his embrace. You struggle to stand and he moves you so his arm is around your back. He turns you and guides you to the truck. He lifts you into the front seat. Well, at least you’re worth something. You’re not sure this is an escape though.
He buckles you in and squeezes your arm. You ignore his gaze as you feel him looking you over. He shuts the door and hurries around the front of the truck. He gets in the driver side and fumbles to turn the ignition. He cranks the shifter and reverses out.
“Those guys are scary, huh?” He mutters as he rolls the wheel around and leans into the gas pedal.
You don’t say a word. Your head lolls and you stare out the window. You just want to watch the sky. It’s like an old friend.
“You know, I… I didn’t think it’d be like that. I thought they’d take care of you girls. You know…” he rambles. “That’s all I wanna do. So, you don’t gotta worry.” He grips the wheel and leans forward. “I’ll do better.”
You still don’t answer. He falls into silence and drives on. You slump and slowly sink into hazy sleep.
You jolt up as the door beside you opens. He touches your shoulder gently, rubbing your dry skin. “You looked… you’re okay. I thought.” He sniffs. “I just stopped a mile back. Got you something to drink.” He points over you to the cupholder. “Lots of electrolytes.”
You stare at him. His hand lingers then trails along the side of your neck. “You okay, honey?”
You stare at the buttons of his shirt.
“Look, I’m just gonna look you over. Make sure you’re not hurt.” He says.
He runs his hand back to your shoulder and with both, he feels along your arm, examining it, than the other. He does the same to your legs, tracing a thick scab below your knee. “Ouch, look like it hurts.”
He feels up your thigh and you twitch.
“I’m just… not gonna… hurt you.” He bends, slowly. He looks hypnotised as his thick fingertips tickle along your thigh. He gets lower and lower. You lean back into the seat. ”Just…”
You squirm but don’t push him off as he suddenly shoves his nose down against your pelvis. He nuzzles into the front of your worn-out panties and takes a deep whiff. You watch him in horror and disbelief. This is insane. He’s insane.
He stands up so suddenly, he looks ready to tip over. He grabs the door to steady himself and clears his throat. He spreads his hand over his chest and drags it down.
He swings the door shut and turns away. He pauses and grips his head, fingers curling as he says something you can’t make out. He drops his arms and marches around to the driver’s door and climbs into the seat.
“Have a drink, honey,” he twists the key. “We’ll be home soon.”
Australian actor Julian McMahon, known for his roles in Nip/Tuck, Charmed, Fantastic Four died July 2 after a private battle with cancer.
"Actor Julian McMahon, known for his starring roles in Nip/Tuck, Charmed, FBI: Most Wanted and the 2000s Fantastic Four movies, died July 2 in Clearwater, Florida after a private battle with cancer. He was 56."
“With an open heart, I wish to share with the world that my beloved husband, Julian McMahon, died peacefully this week after a valiant effort to overcome cancer,” McMahon’s wife, Kelly McMahon, said in a statement to Deadline. “Julian loved life. He loved his family. He loved his friends. He loved his work, and he loved his fans. His deepest wish was to bring joy into as many lives as possible. We ask for support during this time to allow our family to grieve in privacy. And we wish for all of those to whom Julian brought joy, to continue to find joy in life. We are grateful for the memories.”
