Chapter 2: For the worst   

              Penelope

              “Okay, smile, and don’t forget to say cheese!” My friend, Lyria, calls out to me. Since we arrived in Brazil two days ago, Lyria hasn’t stopped taking pictures. We’re here because we were both accepted into a program in Rio.

              Over the past two years, I studied Botany at the University of Las Vegas until I graduated a couple of months ago. Lyria will be attending the University here for graduate classes. When the opportunity to work abroad in Brazil came up, we jumped on it. My mother’s family is from Brazil. And even though I have never lived here, I thought it would be cool to visit the place where my mom came from. Unfortunately, my mom passed two years ago, or she’d be excited to know that I was here. Her death was a real blow to my heart. She contracted a deadly disease at a village in Uganda during a research trip. My mom was an anthropologist who traveled all over the world during her researches. She even published several articles of her findings, which gave her a prominent place in the Anthropological community. Even though I miss her every day, I’m glad to know that she died doing what she loved. She always wanted to visit Brazil, but my grandmother’s stories would always deter her.

              My grandmother was born in Brazil and moved to the US when she was twenty. Apparently, she had some kind of falling out with her sister over some guy sixty years ago, and they never talked again.

              Lyria clings to my shoulder with a wide smile.

              “Okay, Lyria, please let this be our last picture. I’d like to enjoy our trip without stopping every five seconds to take a picture.”

              Lyria rolls her eyes with a chuckle and waits for the nice bystander she managed to convince to take the picture. Her short brown hair and toffee-colored eyes sparkle with amusement.

              Once Lyria’s done with pictures, we make our way back to our rental home. We’ve had a long day visiting every site we could think of, beginning with the Christ the Redeemer statue, and I’m exhausted.

              “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Lyria pats her stomach in emphasis.

              I look at my watch give her a wry smile. “It’s past ten o’clock. We had dinner at eight. Where do you pack it in?”

              Lyria snickers.“I’m a growing girl, babe. I need sustenance to maintain all of this.” She gestures down at her flat belly and rubs it suggestively. Seriously, I’m not joking when I ask her where all of her food goes. This girl is a hundred pounds wet.

              “Yeah, I can see that you’re wasting away,” I reply sarcastically.

              It’s a happy moment for us. One that will be recorded in my mind until the day I die. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last for long.

              You know when someone says it happened so fast? Well, this is how I remember this moment. We were a couple streets away from our hotel when a dirty, old black van stopped in front of us. Lyria instantly stiffened and pulled me back. But it was no use. I remember two masked men stepped out of the car with weapons in their hands, and my friend cried out for us to run, but we didn’t make it far. Two men stopped in front of Lyria, and me, aiming their weapons at our heads. One of the men moved behind me and gripped my forearms tightly as he dragged me to the van. Struggling within the man’s hold, I helplessly watched as my friend was dragged and tossed inside of the van with a distressed cry.

              Frightened, I scratched and kicked out at the other man, who carelessly lifted me in his arms and carried me to the van. My purse slips from my arms, cutting off my only chance at getting to my cell phone.               Unfortunately, the innocent bystander who took our picture tried to help us, but one of the men shot him in the head. It was the most nightmarish moment of my life. To see an innocent man’s brains get blown from his head, the blood and gore leaking from the large hole in his skull as his body slumped forward will play like a movie in my head for the rest of my life.

              Crying out with fear, I extended my hand toward my friend, tears blurring my eyes. “No!’ I cried out desperately as the man ripped Lyria’s phone from her hand, tossed it into the street.

              A moment later, my body went flying, and I landed with a painful thud inside the van’s exterior. My back ached, and my head began to pound from the impact.

              Lyria rushes into my arms as the van’s doors closed. Rising to do something, I stop when one of the men aims his weapon in front of Lyria and mutters in a menacing voice. “Try something, and I will kill the girl.”

              Stiffening with apprehension, I pull Lyria’s trembling body close and enfold her in my arms as tears of pain and loss ran down my face. Lyria clings to me, her desperate cries echoing through the van as we are transported away from our destination. The men seem unbothered by our pleas to release us.

               “What do you want from us?” I manage to croak out in a broken sob.

              One of the men’s dark eyes meets mine with a laser focus. “Just sit there quietly, you little bitch!” He mumbled through his dark mask, his accent thick, and his voice gruff.

              But I’m beyond angry as my despair reaches a volcanic level. “Let us go, you asshole! Who the hell are you? What do you want? If you wanted money, all you had to do was take it. You didn’t have to kill that poor man!” I end in a mournful croak.

              Unfortunately, my cries fall on deaf ears. I was about to ask them to release us again when the man comes forward and slaps me hard in the face. My head snaps back, and my cheek burns from the sting of the slap.

              “I won’t repeat myself again, you whore. Shut. The. Fuck. Up!” He growled, making his accent more prominent.

              Seeing no other choice, I sit back and bite my tongue, my face stinging painfully. I don’t know how long the ride to where they are taking us is. All I know is that my tears eventually dry, and morbid scenarios start running through my mind─each scarier than the other. Lyria stares dazedly ahead as the terror overwhelms her. She has grown quiet, which means she’s beyond frightened.

              Eventually, the van comes to a stop in front of an old, run-down house. I look on frightened as one of the men opens the van’s doors while another nudges me with the muzzle of his gun, urging me to step out. I shake Lyria and gesture for her to be quiet when her eyes widen with fear at the realization that this wasn’t a nightmare. She blinks her eyes and moves closer to me, her body shuddering with terror. Clinging tightly to each other, we step out of the van and slowly walk towards the house’s front door. I look around in hopes of finding an escape, but we’re surrounded by armed men. It’s a hopeless situation, and we both know it.

              Shaking and trembling with terror, Lyria and I cry out when another man points his gun at our heads.

              “Run, and we’ll kill you.” He grits out gruffly.

              Lyria and I stiffen in place and give him a wary nod.

              Helplessness grates on my nerves as they usher us inside of the door. The first thing we see is the austere face of a woman with wild, curly hair, leathery skin, and the scar that runs from the tip of her right eye and ends beneath her jaw. She’s wearing a man’s dress shirt and black slacks with long knee boots. Her brown eyes narrow, and her arms are crossed in front of her ample chest. Unlike the men, she’s not covering her face, which tells me that shit has gotten real.

              I cringe when she peruses our bodies assessingly. It makes me wish that I hadn’t worn my short cargo pants and a white t-shirt. Only my legs and arms are exposed, but I feel like I’m naked.

              The others are in a similar outfit as the woman.

              Unfortunately, I have long legs, firm, high breasts, and a round ass, so there’s no way that I can’t look like a fully developed woman.

              The man behind us pushes us forward until we’re both standing right in front of the woman. Trying to remain composed, I search around the shack with its aluminum ceiling, soiled pink walls, and dirty floor.

              I want to scream at that moment. I want to attack everyone in the room and run away with my friend, but I can’t risk them hurting Lyria. 

                 “Only two?” The woman asks the man in a gruff smoker’s voice. Her tone is grim. 

                 “They were all we could find.” He replies in portuguese.

              Neither of them must think I understand portuguese because they continue their conversation. Fortunately, I learned portuguese from my grandmother years ago. I feign ignorance as the woman continues to talk. There’s no way that I want her to know that I speak the language. My knowledge of portuguese might be useful later.

                 “Eles nos trará um registro de dinheiro. Ela é muito bonita.” She will make us a lot of money. She’s very beautiful. He gestures to me. “The other one is just as pretty. Look at all of that red hair. And it’s natural.” He says with a wave in Lyria’s direction.

                 Lyria remains quiet. Unlike me, she only knows basic Portuguese words. While she’s doing her graduate studies, she’s also taking language lessons to learn Portuguese. She’ll pick it up quickly, but for now, her knowledge is limited, which in her case is a blessing considering that they’re talking about selling us.

              Nausea gathers in my stomach as I listen to them discuss how much money they’ll make by selling white girls. My nostrils flare, but somehow, I manage to maintain my breathing.

              It isn’t until they start talking about what to do with us that I start to plan. The things they say about the things they’d like to do with us disgust me. They keep talking about how much money they’ll get for us on the market and about how much they’ll need to make their quota. I want to smash their faces every time they speak.

              I don’t know what to do. “Please, let us go.” I plead softly. The man and the woman turn to me as if finally realizing that I’m an actual human being.

              “I’m sorry, darling, but I can’t do that.” The woman replies in a thick accent.

              “If they’re virgins, we can make a lot of money off of them.” The man mumbles in portuguese.

              “Well, see. Call the doctor.” The woman commands before she turns back to me and caresses her finger down my cheek. “How old are you, child?” She asks pointedly. I lower my eyes and tighten my hand around Lyria’s.

              “I’m eighteen.” I lie in hopes of making them think that I’m innocent and virginal. Thankfully, I look young and sweet with my milky white skin and doe eyes. My friends have always told me that I look like Snow White with my dark hair and peaches and cream complexion. I look like a virgin, which, truthfully, I am. I’ve had boyfriends in the past, but none of them ever got past first base. Eventually, I was so busy with school that I never found time to meet anyone. I regret it now that I will be sold to some sick man as a sex slave.

              As I sit there, I think of my great uncle, Howard. He was my last living relative, and he died nearly a year ago. My poor great uncle was eighty years old. He was there when my mom died and was all I had left. And now I’m going to die too.

              The woman cocks her head with an appraising scowl. “Tell me, girls, have you ever been with a man?” She asks evenly as she narrows her eyes in hopes of gauging our honesty.

              I look at Lyria, who is shuddering uncontrollably. “We’re…we’re both virgins.” I blush.

              The woman stares at me for a moment, which makes me fidget and heightens my anxiety. “You know that we can check you to see if you’re telling the truth.”

              I nod my head through blurred tears. “I’m not lying,” I reply in a shaky sob.

              The woman glances down at Lyria and sneers. There is definitely not a kind bone in this woman’s body. Regardless of that, I need to buy time for Lyria and me. Even if it means that we have to go along with her plans for selling us.

              After a moment, the woman nods her head as if coming to a decision. “Very well, here is the deal. We’re going to inspect you, and if you’re both virgins, we’re going to sell you in a virgin auction. The men who will be doing the purchasing are looking for willing virgins. If you make the man who chooses you happy, we will not kill you. You’ve seen what we are capable of, haven’t you?” She asks with a sinister smirk.

              I nod my head. “We’ll do what you ask. Please, just don’t hurt us.”

              The woman nods at the men, then signals for them to tie us to a nearby chair. Sweat glistens across my skin as the humidity in the room rises along with our dread.

              Lyria clings to my hands desperately as the men try to break us apart. It’s heartbreaking to see the mirrored fear in her eyes. “Lyria, listen to me,” I place my palms on her cheeks and mutter in a soothing tone. “It’s okay. Please just do what they ask.”

              Lyria sniffles and reluctantly releases my hand. Her face is red and swollen, and her eyes are bloodshot. She looks so beat and helpless that my heart breaks.

              I choke out a cry when two men shackle my hands and feet against a wooden chair while another does the same to Lyria. Once we are properly restrained, the woman walks up to me and stares me down. “A doctor will be coming here to inspect you both in a couple of hours. You better pray, child. Because if you have lied to me, I will make both your deaths bloody.”

              My heart quickens, and my breathing becomes ragged as my horror escalates. I mean, I know I’m a virgin, but I still feel like something is going to go wrong. As the hour passes, I try to come up with a plan to escape. First, I search for a weapon, but the room is barren. I look at Lyria and frown. She is eerily quiet, which amps up my anxiety.

              Two men sit in the corner of the room, drinking and talking as a small television plays soccer in the background.

              Thankfully, neither man bothers us. The men keep their masks in place and drink through the mouth holes in the mask. I want to talk to Lyria, but I don’t dare call the men’s attention to me.

              I try not to think about what will happen next. All I can do is sit there and plan because I know I have to focus on saving my friend.            However, as I stare at the grimy walls, I can’t help but wonder if someone will find out what happened to us. Lyria has no family in Vegas. Her parents got divorced when she was young. Her dad left one day and never returned, and her mom is a biker’s old lady. She kicked Lyria out of their house once her boyfriend showed a little too much interest in her. She didn’t like the competition. Like Lyria’s dad, my dad left when I was a baby. I never met him and had no inclination to. After my mom died, it was just my uncle and me until the day he died. It’s a sad thought to know that Lyria and I are on our own. Grief overwhelms me at the prospect that no one will miss us. Things become worse a few minutes later when the woman walks through the doorway with another man in tow. This man is old, with a slim figure, brown leathery skin, and a hunched back. He looks harmless with his long beaky nose and beady eyes.”

              The woman directs one of the men in portuguese to free me and take me into the other room. I struggle in their arms and kick out, frightened over what might be happening to my friend. Halting my struggles, the woman places her hands on her hips and stops before me. “Stop fighting, you stupid girl. Dr. Xao is here to inspect you. Now, stay still, or you’ll anger me.”

              I seize my struggles and gaze intently into the woman’s eyes. I don’t want her to hurt me or hurt Lyria because of my struggles. Lyria’s cries reach my ears at that moment. Her face is red, and her body is writhing in its restraints. “Penelope! No! Penelope!”

              Taking a deep breath, I look at Lyria and calmly mutter. “It’s okay, Lyria. I’ll be back in a minute. Just relax” Lyria’s eyes jump from person to person until they land back on me. She must see my pleading expression because she settles down.

              My moves are sluggish with every step I take into the next room. The room looks the same as the one Lyria and I were taken into. Its dirty walls and dirt floor make me cringe, and my heart stutters with panic when I see that there’s a table in the middle of the room. What makes a quiver of panic rush up my spine is that there’s a pillow on the table and restraints strapped to each corner. The doctor walks ahead of us and rests his bag in the corner of the table before he turns to me. “Tome sua roupa.” Take off your clothes. He whizzes out mechanically.

              I continue to stand there, pretending not to understand. “Take off your clothes.” The woman reiterates in English as she pushes me toward the table. I look at her but don’t argue. I have to keep my cool until I can find a way out of here.

              Shyly, I remove my clothing, using my hair as a cover, and stand there, trembling in front of the doctor, who is now inspecting me. “Ela é muito bonita.” She’s very beautiful. The doctor mutters through crooked teeth as he runs his eyes appraisingly down my breasts, flat stomach, and thighs.

              I close my eyes when he comes closer and moves my hair away from my chest. “Ela tem certos de empresa e um corpo curvy.” She has firm breasts and a curvy body. “Você disse que era virgem?” Did you say she was a virgin? He asks the woman.

              “Sim.” Yes, the woman responds. “É por isso que você está aqui. Quero que você verifique se ela ê.” That’s why you’re here. I want you to verify that she is.

              “Bem.” Alright. The doctor mumbles as he leads me to the table and mimes for me to lie down on it. I look at the woman. “Does he want me to lay down on the table?”

              The woman nods.

              Breath hissing, I try to slide onto the table modestly and lie down on it. The table’s cold, unyielding surface hurts my back, but I remain quiet. “Levante os joelhos.” Raise your knees. The doctor asks.

              Continuing my pretense, I look at the woman. “He said, raise your knees.”

              Once my knees are up, the doctor slips on a pair of gloves and stands between them. It’s a degrading experience to be inspected in such a manner. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and silently sob as the doctor slides his fingers inside of me as he examines me. I try to pretend that I’m on a visit to a gyno, but it’s hard when I’m scared out of my mind. You’d think that I’d be hysterical at this point, but all I can think about is my friend and how I need to keep it together for her. I’ll fall apart after we both survive.

              After a moment, the doctor’s intrusive fingers slide away from my body. “Ela não mentiu. Ela é virgem. Senti of hímen.” She didn’t lie. She’s a virgin. I felt the hymen. 

              The woman nods her head and takes a step back. “Bem. Alright. Thank you, doctor. Now, inspect the other girl.”

              The doctor bows his head and steps out of the door without another look back.

              I lie there, my heart beating rapidly in my chest as the woman moves around the table. “The doctor said you weren’t lying. You can get up and get dressed. You and your friend will be taken to another location tonight. After you are properly groomed, we’ll present you at the auction. Remember, one wrong move, and I’ll kill you both, so I suggest you comply.”

              I meekly nod my head and rise from the table. I don’t know if I put my clothing on correctly. All I know is that I no longer wanted to sit there naked and vulnerable.

              “Penelope.” My friend cries out with relief as soon as she sees me. Moving past the woman, I wrap my arms around her, but our relief is short-lived. Without a word, the woman pulls us apart and orders Lyria to follow her. It’s Lyria’s turn now. She resists at first, but I quickly halt her struggles. “It’s okay, Lyria. Just go with them and do what they say. It’ll be fine. I promise.”

              Lyria nods her head and follows weakly behind them. Lyria is smaller than I am. I hope they don’t hurt her. Unlike Lyria’s fiery red hair, my hair is very light brown, and my eyes are the blue of icicles in winter. Lyria is also model thin with small breasts and narrow hips. I know that she’s a virgin because she confessed to me before we came on our trip. She told me that she wanted to lose her virginity to a hot Brazilian guy. At this point, I just hope that somehow we get out of this unscathed and that she finds the man of her dreams.