Disappearance: A broken Wing

Divide

"Take the kids to the warehouse."

My arms instinctively tightened around Sally, but a guard ripped her from me before I could react. I watched helplessly as they dragged her away, her small hands reaching for me.

"Alright, listen up! Anyone under the age of 20, follow me," a man barked.

A line of women formed, and I forced myself to join them—anything to stay alive. But just as I stepped into line, I felt a rough hand yank me back. It was the same man Keto had been talking to earlier. Leo.

"Not you," he said sharply. "You go straight to Hito."

For some reason, those words made my stomach twist even more than before.

I followed Leo to a black Jeep parked nearby.

"Hito's house is too far to walk. Hop in," he said, gesturing toward the passenger seat.

I climbed in, silent and tense, as the Jeep pulled away. Through the window, I could still see the other women being herded away like cattle. My chest tightened. Sally was gone, and I had no idea if I'd ever see her again.

As we drove, the landscape shifted from clusters of warehouses to sprawling fields. There were women working in those fields, bent over and silent, while guards with rifles stood watch. Hito owned all of this land—and, apparently, everyone on it.

After about ten minutes, we stopped in front of a deceptively small house. It looked plain enough from the outside, but twenty guards were stationed around the yard, guns in hand. There was a barn nearby, rows of vegetables stretching behind it.

If I didn't know what kind of man Hito was, I might've thought this place was peaceful. But I knew better.

Leo and I stepped out of the Jeep and walked toward the house.

"Leo, my man! What are you doing here?" A guard—Lucas—grinned at me, his eyes raking over my body.

"Hito wanted to see her," Leo answered.

"She's a fine thing," Lucas said, licking his lips.

"Cool it, Lucas. We've got warehouses full of women. Let Hito decide what to do with this one."

Lucas smirked, not taking his eyes off me. "Well, I'll be waiting." He grabbed himself shamelessly, and I turned away in disgust.

Inside the house, the first thing I saw was a man waving a gun in another guy's face.

"Next time I say do something, I mean it," the man with the gun growled.

"Yes, sir," the boy stammered before sprinting out of the room.

When the man turned to face us, I immediately recognized him for who he must be—Hito. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, with broad shoulders, tattoos covering his arms, and a gun still in hand. His thick, jet-black hair was tied into a bun, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey dangled from his other hand.

If this man wasn't a monster, I might've found him attractive. But monsters have a way of hiding behind good looks.

"Leo, why is this peasant in my house?" Hito's voice was low and dangerous.

"Master, this is Kara," Leo explained.

"Okay, and? Why is she in my house? All women should be in the warehouses."

"She's the deal that saved Carter."

"Ah... that Kara." Hito smirked. "Alright. You've shown her to me. I'll call Carter and let him know he's off the hook. In the meantime, take her to the fields."

"Yes, master," Leo replied.

Leo grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the fields behind the house.

"Your job is to pick as much corn as possible," he said, shoving a bucket into my hands.

Great. Now I am a slave and a farmer.

But honestly? I'd rather pick corn all day than have to endure another man forcing himself on me.

As I worked, my mind kept wandering to Sally. Was she okay? Was she alive? She didn't deserve any of this—none of us did. But here, there were only two options: fight and die, or submit and die.

There was no winning.

By nightfall, I had a full bucket of corn. Unsure what to do next, I approached one of the guards—unfortunately, Lucas.

"Excuse me," I said carefully. "I collected the corn. Where am I supposed to go now? It's getting dark."

"Max, take her bucket," Lucas called, then turned back to me with a grin. "I'll let you go inside and wash, but you've got to do something for me first."

My stomach sank. I already knew where this was going.

"What do I have to do?"

"I want to taste you. Feel you." He smirked. "Think you're up for the challenge?"

"I think I'll sleep outside," I snapped.

"Okay. But that won't stop me from getting what I want. You can either wash and have sex with me willingly, or don't wash and have sex with me forcefully. Your choice."

I clenched my jaw. I was so tired of this. So tired of them.

"Fine," I muttered. "Where's the restroom?"

"Follow me, my love," Lucas said with a sick grin.

I followed him inside to the bathroom.

"I'll be waiting," he said, leaning against the doorway.

"Okay."

I closed the door, turned on the shower, and burned my skin with water so hot it stung. I wanted to scrub off my entire body. I wanted to feel clean again—even though I knew I never would.

The bathroom door suddenly slammed open. My heart dropped.

The shower curtain was ripped aside, and Lucas stepped in, naked and grinning.

"Sorry. Guess I couldn't wait."

I froze. I didn't fight. I didn't scream. I just let him push me against the wall. The water burned, but his touch burned worse.

Ever since I was taken, I've learned something: fighting only makes it worse. So, I stood there, numb, as he entered me.

It's no good to fight anymore. Not when you always lose.