Enslaved by the Ocean
Page 8

I decide this is my moment to fight. I swing my leg backwards, hitting him in the kneecap. He bellows, but his fingers don’t leave my shoulder. He slams me forward, pressing me against the wall. I squirm and kick, twisting my body in a poor attempt to escape his hold. Suddenly, there’s a cold, hard item pressed against my temple.
“It’s simple,” he hisses into my ear. “You do as I ask, or I blow your brains out. Either is fine with me. You choose right now to live or die. What’s it going to be?”
“It doesn’t matter either way,” I cry, squirming.
“Live or die?” he roars, pressing me harder into the wall.
“Live!” I scream. “Live!”
“Then shut your mouth, and do as you’re fucking told,” he snarls.
He removes the gun, and my knees threaten to give way. I am shaking all over, and my teeth clatter together. Hendrix pulls my hands behind my back, causing a pained wince to leave my throat. Then he snaps on a pair of handcuffs. He spins me around, and our eyes meet for a moment. There has to be something else in there. Surely this can’t be everything? He is acting like a monster, but there’s a depth to his eyes that says otherwise.
“Please, let me have some water,” I whisper.
“Do you think this is a fucking luxury holiday?” he snaps.
“I’ll die, and then you won’t get your sale.”
His eyes flicker with shock for a moment, and then they go hard. “Don’t threaten me again, girl.”
He shoves me toward the blond man, and he takes hold of the chain linking the cuffs together and tugs. I can do nothing but obey. Like a naughty puppy, I follow him down the halls.
As he leads, I take in my surroundings. Most of the doors to the left and right of us are closed, so I can’t see inside them. There’s a large room right at the end to the left, and I can hear noisy voices and music coming from it. We reach the end of the hall, and there’s an old, broken wooden door. Blondie opens it, and shoves me down.
The steps are rickety, and it smells like mold and rats. I cringe and force myself to stay strong as reality begins sinking in. We reach the bottom, and a lightly dimmed space comes into view. I can see three cells, all with bars. My body begins to seize with panic when I get a glimpse of their size. They’re tiny, with no bed, no toilet, nothing. They’re just a cramped little space. I shake my head, and dig my heels in. Blondie pushes me from behind, but I tighten my legs and refuse to move. With a hard shove, I go soaring forward.
“Please,” I beg, gripping the bars when he tries to shove me in. “Please don’t make me go in there. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Get in,” he grunts.
“Are you human at all?” I scream.
He makes another grunting sound, swings the bars open and throws me in so hard I slam against the back wall and collapse onto the floor. I charge forward, and he takes hold of me, uncuffing me quickly before slamming the bars in my face. I scream and wrap my fingers around them, shaking, screaming and crying. Blondie just walks out, as if my crying doesn’t affect him at all. I drop to my knees, sobbing. How did I end up here?
I hear a croaking sound, and spin in my cell, my entire chest rising and falling with panic. Then I see Eric in the next cell, curled up and bleeding. “Eric?” I cry, crawling over and trying to reach through the bars between us. Eric chokes, and his body shudders.
“Eric!” I cry. “Wake up!”
He coughs and his eyes flutter open. “I…I…Indi?” he croaks.
“I’m here. Are you okay? Oh, Eric, I’m so sorry.”
He coughs again, and groans in pain. I hear the sound of boots, and turn to see Blondie coming back with a small bottle of water. He shoves it through the bars, glares at me, and then turns and walks back up. He gave me water? Why? I crawl toward the water, my throat burning with desperation. I want to open it, and devour it. Then I hear Eric coughing beside me, and I know this has to go between us both. I unscrew the bottle, and press it to my lips.
The water is cool, and soothing. Desperation racks my body. It takes everything inside me not to drink the entire thing. My hands shake after a few deep pulls. I don’t want to stop drinking, but I don’t have a choice. My friend will die without this water.
I crawl toward the bars, and I gently push the water through. Eric is sitting up, his head hanging, his clothes torn and bloody.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Here.”
He lifts his head, and my heart twists when I see his blackening eye, his split lip, and the dried blood on his chin. He spots the water, and his eyes flare with need. He pulls himself toward me, and snatches the bottle from my hands, tearing the lid off and pressing it to his lips. He drinks the water down in three, large gulps. When it’s empty, he lifts his eyes to me, looking like he feels even worse now.
“So thirsty,” he croaks.
“I know,” I soothe. “I will find a way to get us out of here, Eric. I swear.”
“E…e…everything hurts,” he whispers.
Tears sting my eyes. “I know, honey. I know. I’m going to find a way out of here, I promise.”
“They’re…” He takes a rasping breath. “They’re going to sell you, Indi.”
My heart hammers, and I swallow, trying to keep my face calm. “I know, but I won’t let them. I will figure this out.”
“We’re on the ocean,” he croaks. “How do we escape?”