Stuck In Traffick

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Freedom is a sweet thing. Running, in fields of green, light breeze blowing all around, carrying pollen and petals in the clean, fresh air. Nothing beats the struggle when running through tall grasses, pulling the soft tops off every so often as you go; playing hide and seek with friends; laughing and running; playing war games. Just in general, being kids. Then when your finally tired out, retreating to the quiet serenity of the orchard and collecting apples and then hiding under the biggest tree with your friends, shaded from the bright midday sun, finally spending the next few hours laying in the warm sun, laughing and joking with friends; telling tales; playing games; napping or simply just being with one another. This is my idea of a perfect day.

“Gracie, come and play with us, the guys are playing kiss chase with us.” Shouted Amy, in her usual coy manner.

“Grace! C’mon, quick, we’re about to start!” Cried Jamie.

“Hurry up, Grace, we’re loosin’ daylight here!” Commanded Ben.

            I ran towards my friends, the only friends I would ever know, not that I knew it at the time. This was the only social life I could have, the only place outside of my house that I was able to venture without the constant supervision of my father. Occasionally, however, I was allowed to take walks in the forest. This was my second favourite place. I continued to leap through the long, thick reeds that enveloped the field until I reached where my girlfriends were calmly loitering. They were casually standing among the boys. It baffled me how calm and collected they were among boys, they weren’t shy or awkward around them. Unlike me; I had become so sheltered, I never grew up playing with dolls and running around school grounds with other kids, and having sleepovers with my girlfriends. In fact, I only had two close friends, and it was only through them that I managed to ever spend any time with boys. Not that the short amount of time with boys helped me any. Whenever I was around them I was constantly paranoid in case my dad came around the next corner, or equally that I would say something to my father when I got home.

            I finally reached my friends who in the blink of an eye had run, skipped and jumped away; Boys chasing the girls. In a rapid frenzy of flurried pollen, bodies darted all over, squeals of joy and hilarity filled the calm, clear air. I run and hide among the sprigs of grass, lying flat, breathing quiet in fear of being caught by one of the boys. I looked from my vantage point and saw that Amy had been caught by Ben. Then not shortly after Sarah was caught by Jamie and finally Joanne caught by Paul. Childishly, I hid my head again behind the tall reeds as I saw the newly created, transient couples reluctantly follow the rules of the game and kiss. I look up one last time, ensuring that the game was over. Suddenly I saw Paul emerge from the rabble, obviously still seeking a partner. Immediately, to bail my out, “GAME OVER!!” Amy cried. At the signal I left the safety of my hiding place and walked towards the chattering crowd of kids.

“You never get caught, Grace!” Exclaimed Sarah and Amy in unison.

“I know, cheat!” Giggled Joanne.

“You let the poor lad down. Paul was after you!” Taunted Jamie. The other boys laughing along.

            After what seemed a few hours of frolicking in the grass, we stopped to catch a breath and we were sitting under our favourite tree watching the burning orange of the sunset, shivering under the cool night air. After a while passed, I checked my watch. I should’ve been home over half an hour ago!

“I got to go guys. Bye.” I shouted over my shoulder at my confused friends as I briskly ran home.

I felt weary. Disorientated. Groggy. I begin to open my eyes. I can’t see anything. I feel the ground below me rumbling and moving. I wait for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the light. Or lack of. I see the slight outlines of boxes and crates. I cease my loud, irregular breathing for a moment to try and listen to what is going on. All I can hear is the loud, consistent rumbling of an engine, chugging along an obviously rough, unpaved track. I hear the sound of voices, foreign, angry, violent, male voices. Sounds like an argument but I can’t even begin to understand what it is they’re saying. I can’t discern whether it’s a different language or whether my grasp on basic English is so far gone that I can’t even understand a short, grunted conversation.

            As I continue to come round from my undesired sleep, I notice a dull, thumping pain in my head. I must’ve been knocked out. As more and more of my senses return to me, I begin to feel more and more pain, my arms feel like they’ve been torn from their sockets, my feet are in agony, an unforgiving stinging pain. And sadly, to add to my ailments, the impressive cuts on my wrists are stinging more and more as I feel the new, steel manacles, cold and bitter against my raw, open wounds.

            I try, in vain to cry out. The only distinct noise that escapes my lips is a weak, primitive grunt. The only words I’m able to utter. “Hello?” The talking stops. The rumbling and engine noises below me stop. I hear a soft click that sounds like the door opening. Then an abrupt slam. Distant footsteps. Then after a sudden sound of tin rattling and a blinding light entered the cabin.