TRIGGER WARNING!!! This chapter contains mentions of abuse and human trafficking which may be distressing for some readers. Please proceed with caution!!!Daphne's POVI frowned my brows and groaned in pain, wondering where I was and why it was very dark and surprisingly warm. What the heck happened my entire body felt like a train had wrecked me. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn't. I tried so hard to pick up my body, still the same thing.“Honey! Honey come quick” Who does this strange voice belong to? Neither have I ever heard it in my entire life nor do I feel a sense of familiarity. What is it? Why are you shouting” said a voice but this time it was a man. “She just moved her fingers, I swear it was twitching,” she said with excitement. “Are you sure? Are you certain you were not just imagining it?”“I am certain”. “That is great news, I hope this poor thing survives it.” the male voice said equally enthusiastic. Am I dreaming? Who are these people and why am I not movin
He takes slow, deliberate strides toward me. “Please, dear, don’t strain your body. It’s not good for you or the baby.”My baby… I place my hand on my stomach, suddenly feeling like a terrible mother. I had been so overwhelmed by my pain and heartbreak that I forgot to check if my child was okay or even still alive.“Don’t worry, your baby is safe,” he reassures me, and relief washes over me. He walks over to one of the large, drums in the corner of the room and retrieves a bowl set on top of the cover. Carefully, he fetches some water and hands it to me. “Drink up, dear.”Without protest, I take the bowl from him, my hands trembling slightly from weakness. “Easy,” he says soothingly as I gulp down the water, feeling the cool liquid soothe my parched throat.“Let me go get you something to eat,” he says with a reassuring smile. I rest my back against the headboard, trying to relax, but my mind keeps drifting back to painful memories I desperately want to forget. Of the day I met Nate
FLASHBACK CONTINUES I looked at the dress sprawled on the bed—absolutely Claire’s style. I picked it up and scrutinized it. Everything about the dress screamed extravagance. It was a fitted red gown that flowed down, exuding elegance and class. The butterfly-cut neckline was bold. Paired with Louboutin heels, Bulgari accessories, and a Bottega Veneta clutch, it was a complete ensemble. I had spent enough time with Claire to gain a glimpse into the fashion world, as it was the only thing she ever seemed to talk about.I discarded my clothes and stepped into the shower, my mind restless. Closing my eyes, flashes of running, covered in scratches, filled my head. Gasping, I snapped back to reality and realized I was still in the tub. After drying off and applying lotion, I faced the mirror briefly, wrapped in a towel, and then quickly changed without looking at myself because I hated seeing the scars and branding engraved on my body. The harsh reality of all I was, ‘used and tossed’. A
**7 DAYS LATER**“Be careful, dear!” Anne calls out, her voice filled with a mix of concern and motherly affection as she glances back at me, her eyes wide with worry.“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” I reply, waving the plastic fan over the firewood with a hint of confidence. I watch the flames dance and flicker, tiny sparks of soot drifting upwards in a mesmerizing display of combustion.“Hmm,” Anne stands up from her stool, placing her hands on her hips as she watches me with a scrutinizing gaze. She walks over and says, “No, hold the fan this way, or your wrists will get tired.” She wipes her wet hands on the back of her pants as she approaches.“No, no, I said I’m fine. I’ve gotten used to it,” I reassure her for what feels like the umpteenth time. I’ve spent so much time with her lately that we’ve practically become inseparable. Andrew jokes that I’ve stolen his wife completely. I’ve observed her enough to learn how to start a fire for cooking. Today, after much coaxing, she finall
**1 Month Later**“Do you really have to go?” Anne tugs at the hem of my dress, her voice trembling with emotion. It's classic Anne—always overreacting. Normally, I’d find her tear-streaked face amusing, but today, I’m sobbing right alongside her.“I have to,” I wail, pulling her into a tight embrace as we both cry. This place has become home to me; I never knew what it was like to be cared for so completely. They’ve made me feel like I’ve belonged here forever.“Are you *sniffs* sure?” she asks, her voice breaking. I nod vigorously, biting my lip hard to keep it from trembling. “Please, take… *sniffs* care of baby Alex for us.”“I will, Anne. I promise.”“Are you ready?” Andrew’s voice calls from the next room, and I call back a shaky “Yes.”Anne pulls me in for one last tight, warm hug. “Oh, come here, my miracle child.” That’s what she calls me—her miracle child.“I will miss you,” I say, tears flowing freely as I bury my face in her neck.“Alright, ladies, it’s time,” Andrew says,
After an hour’s torturous drive, we finally arrived at the neighboring town and the bus terminal. “Thanks, Bob,” I said as I hopped off the truck. “Let’s get you settled right?” we move around, and he kindly buys me a ticket, which I was grateful for, at least I would save my money. The route I am taking is 1-10 West. After waving goodbye and settling on my seat, the journey begins. *********The bus screeched to a stop, hissing as its old brakes caught up on the pavement. I had been holding it for miles, my bladder aching with every bump on the road. The diver’s gravelly voice cut through the cabin, “Ten minutes, folks. We stop here, then straight through to Houston.”I glance at the dusty gas station with its faded sign and peeling paint. Ten minutes. That was all I needed. My legs are painfully swollen, making it hard for me to move as quickly as I once could. I waddle off the bus, careful not to bump into anyone.The dingy restroom was exactly what I expected– grimy and smellin
The journey has not been an easy one at all. It has been over a day since the bus left me. I walked miles on the highway, looking for help. I had no choice but to hitchhike. For over every stop, I stood by the roadside hoping for another ride to the next town. Luckily for me, I had gotten closer to Los Angeles but the town seemed to stretch so far away, the hunger in my stomach was clawing at me, and blisters appeared on my feet, my shoes were worn out. I would stare at cars as I watched them whizz by without a second glance, I had become four shades darker due to the tanning of the hot sun. I had managed to catch a few short rides here and there, but none that would take me far enough to make a real difference. The last trucker who’d stopped left me stranded just outside a small town, promising he couldn’t take me any further. I thanked him, even though my legs felt like they couldn’t carry me any longer.At night, the cold air would pierce through my thin clothes. I found an old
My people, I’m telling you, life in LA hasn’t been easy at all. I’m down with a fever, wandering every day like a homeless person in search of answers. If I had known, I would have memorized Andrew’s number and called him as soon as I arrived. But I lost the paper with his and Claire’s numbers since I didn’t have a phone.I have memorized Nate’s number, though, and even in my sleep, I can repeat those numbers effortlessly. There were a few times I fought the urge to just call him and ask him to come get me. This isn’t easy at all.I finally settled in a refugee camp, and let me tell you, this place is hell. There are drug addicts, toxic people, and bitter women. The environment is far from conducive, contrary to what the organization portrays.I’ve been here for five days, wandering into the neighborhoods of the elite, looking for anyone who knows Claire. That’s my only lead; I remember Anne saying Claire works for a billionaire in Visionary Island, an estate for the wealthy here in L