The Very, Very Beginning
The air reeked of stale bodies, of the musky scent of sex, of unwashed clothes and bedding. The threadbare sheet spread between six girls could hardly be classified as bedding. Cigarette smoke hung heavily in the damp, moldy air as Clarissa puffed lazily. Sprawled on her back, she had her head drooped over the edge of the mattress and a vacant look in her eyes.
It’s not often I’d think back to those days, the days of before, but sometimes, when I was coming down after a particularly long high, I’d stop trying to be numb and let the pain invade my body just a little bit. Just enough to remind me that this was real life. That no matter how high I got, how many drugs overloaded my system, or how often I closed my mind, this was still my real life.
I’d forgotten what my home smelled like. What my mom had smelled like. What shampoo and perfume she used. The scent of the clean laundry soap she loved so much.
Even the fresh air didn’t smell the same in the middle of the city. Nothing like the field next to my house where I’d spent my summers exploring, rolling down the hill, and hiding in the tall brush. I grew up playing night games over there—tag, red rover, capture the flag—until after dark when our mothers would call from our porches, and we’d all go running home.
I’d spent my last day of freedom in that field.
I rolled from my back to my stomach and cradled my head against my arms. Somewhere in the deepest cracks of my memory, I could remember the blue sky from that day. It was clear, pale, and cloudless. A light breeze had drifted across my face as I sat in that field propped up on my elbows with the boy I loved lying next to me. Or at least I thought it was love. It didn’t matter now because I’d never see him again.
We had spent that day in the grass holding hands, kissing like innocent teenagers do, laughing and talking about life in general. My stomach felt like a hundred butterflies taking flight; something I’d never felt before or since. Then around midafternoon, my mom called for me. I left him in that field with the promise to see him later.
I never made it home, and I didn’t keep my promise.
We never saw each other again.
“CHLOE!”
My thoughts splintered apart by the sound of my name being called, and I scrambled up from the dirty mattress. My name’s not really Chloe. The name my parents gave me was from a different world, a different lifetime. Chloe is my name in this life, and it makes me happy that I can separate the two.
If I had to use the same name, I’m sure my lives would mesh and blur together, and I wouldn’t remember who I was then and who I am now.
I’d only know who I am now.
Darnell crashed through the door to our room like the oaf that he was; his eyes glassy and dilated from whatever drug he was on. Probably heroin. He took in the sight of me in the long dingy tee that hung to my knees, his eyes drifting down my bare legs, and he grinned.
“How you doin’ today, Chloe? Feel like giving me a ride before you go out tonight?”
The shutters immediately came down, my brain going to the numb zone it always did. I had no recourse here. I couldn’t fight back. All I could do was lower my eyes and wait for my orders. My body rebelled the action every time—stomach seizing, muscles clenched as if ready to run me out of here. As if I had a choice in the matter. As if all my free will wasn’t stripped away.
He grunted and licked his lips at my silence.
“It’s a shame the boss would shoot me dead if I fucked ya without his permission.” He reached out and stroked a lock of my hair.
My mind retreated further.
“Maybe later I’ll pay up for a good time, yeah? You’d like that, sugar.” He wasn’t asking me; he was telling. He turned back to the door to leave, and I followed.
The guns only came down here for two reasons, and both meant I was leaving this room. I didn’t dare cast a backward glance at the fear-filled faces behind me. They’d be worried. We all were when one of our own was taken from the group, never knowing what condition she’d return in.
Or if she’d return at all.
I was no longer the captain of my life. I’d blame fate, but even she isn’t cruel enough to force someone into this existence. No, all the blame rests with one man.
The boss.
And someday…
Someday…
He will meet his end.
Chapter One
Sin
“Gentlemen, welcome.”
The buffoon at the door holds it open and ushers us inside with a sweeping gesture of his arm. Elias steps forward, gives the man a short nod, and disappears into the inky blackness beyond. I move at a slower pace, taking a good look at the face of the man before me, studying him and committing it to memory. He responds with a hard stare of his own and a lift of his chin, which I reciprocate impatiently. With an irritated jerk of his head to the left, he says, “That way, please.”
I lumber inside. The door closes behind us with a foreboding silence.
Two armed men sweep forward with high-powered assault rifles raised in our faces. I brace against the pounding in my chest and raise my arms in compliance, locking down the look of hatred I feel, as Elias does the same.
The man who welcomed us inside steps forward with a greasy smile.
“Just a little weapons search, boys. Protocol. Nothing to be afraid of.”
I stare into his cold eyes as he stands in wait while the armed men pat us down. Unnecessary as we were told the rules before we arrived, and we all came unarmed. It was our only option if we wanted to get inside. Stupid and reckless and too damned trusting for our own good, but the older men in our unit were steadily against trying to sneak a gun inside.
When the two brutes with the guns step back and give the okay to who I’m assuming is their boss, he claps his hand together gleefully. Elias and I drop our arms to our sides. “Perfect. I can take you to view the merchandise.”
My stomach churns. Other voices interrupt my growing repugnance of his words, and Elias and I turn toward the sound. Instinctively, I reach for my gun, but when I remember we’d been searched and left our weapons at home, my hand falls limply to my side.
Across the open space, Richard emerges from the doorway along the left wall. Our eyes lock, and as I catch a glimpse of the sadness in his, my pulse speeds up.
My old man plods out behind Richard, wearing his good ole boy smile, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s keeping up appearances with a last shred of hope that we’ll all make it out alive, but the gig is up.
It should’ve been me in that room. I demanded to go first, just me alone, but his stubborn ass talked me out of it. He said we’d make better backup, but I don’t know why the fuck I listened to him.
The boss looks back and forth between Richard and me with curiosity as he runs a finger across papery lips. I avoid looking at my father and Richard with recognition, and instead, I maintain an inquisitiveness of my own. One customer studying another, despite the fact my pulse races in my fingertips.
Richard crosses the open space and is halfway to freedom when the first shot rings out. The heat from the bullet whizzes past my ear and embeds in the door at my back with a crack. The wood splinters and explodes with the impact, sending fragments into the air. Chaos ensues as everyone moves at once.
Elias returns fire with a small pistol he pulled out of who knows where, but his forethought gives us a fighting chance in this fucking mess. With my best friend at my back, I make a break for the two older men. In a few long strides, I reach Richard, grasp onto his shoulder, and fling him behind me in the general direction of the door, praying like fuck the old man can retain his balance. With Elias providing cover, I hope he makes it outside. Without a second to see where Richard lands, I look up to find my father just as it happens.