The Incredible League of Goth Pizza Haters (RH)

Part 69

---Sylvia---
"Don't touch me-get off!" I yelled as Philip lifted me. I was tossed over his shoulder like a bag of fucking potatoes. My hair fell in front of my face, obscuring my vision as my heart began to pound. If we were leaving this room then maybe I could escape.

He opened the door and we entered a bigger room I'd only seen glimpses of before. It looked like a basement. The walls and floor were concrete and it was mostly empty, save for a few boxes stacked in corners, a washer, dryer and a sink.  And a set of stairs.

It was in the corner of the room and Philip walked me over to the other side and set me down on an empty stretch of cold floor.

"Philip-,"

"Don't."

"-Please. I'm nineteen. Please just-,"

"You're nineteen?" he stopped and looked at me, eyes colder than I've ever seen them. "You lied to me?"

"Yes," He thought I was twenty-three. I let my guts spill like a stupid teenager opening up to an adult. "I lied to you when we first met so you'd let my band play. I'm sorry-,"

"Sylvia, I swear to god." he stepped back and rubbed a hand over his face. "If you're lying to me.."

"I'm not." he clenched his teeth and stared at me before we heard a door open followed by footsteps down the stairs. My heart pounded harder.

Joe walked down and glared at the two of us. In his hand, he held a green garden hose. I guess neither of them had seen any reason to bring the gun. He walked over and began screwing the hose onto the faucet. Afterwards, I watched him turn the knob. Water carried through the tubing and spilled out the end, instantly creating a puddle on the floor. He walked over to me and flipped me onto my stomach. Turning my head, I watched him snap open the blade of a pocket knife and begin cutting the zip ties around my ankles.

My heart soared.

This is it, I just needed to be on my feet and I could do it. I could get up those stairs and out of this place. The only problem was the two people in my way.

We made eye contact and he paused, moving over so he was gripping my wrists. He looked different. I don't know if it was from time or my own memory but he didn't look like how I remembered him exactly.

And then he said, "I'm not who you think I am."

And then he cut the ties on my wrists too.

My hands slipped free and I instantly tried to get to my feet in escape but he grabbed me by the hair and held the knife out.

"If you try to run, I'll kill you."

He stood up and walked away while I looked at the staircase on the other side of the room. I got to my feet immediately and watched Philip walk over to one of the boxes and pull out the gun. He placed himself between me and the stairs and watched.

Joe lifted the hose and turned to me.

"Take off your clothes."

"What?" No way. No way in hell.

"You heard me."

"No." I looked at the two of them. Joe's face was stone cold while Philip's held traces of remorse and sympathy. Bastards.

"Now." he glared at me and I met his eyes. Did this fucker think it was going to be that easy? That I would give up like that? I may not be Lara fucking Croft but I'm certainly not a damsel in distress. And I'm definitely not his goddamn sex doll.

So I stared just as harshly back at him and let the words roll off my tongue one by one, "Fuck. You."

There was a pause, a long moment of silence before he doused me with the coldest water I've ever felt. I screamed and drew back, already shivering.

"Stop!" I yelled and he did. He dropped the hose and stomped over to me in his boots. It was so sudden I only had time to draw back against the wall as he reached out, grabbing me by the shoulders and throwing me to the ground.

I landed on my stomach with my hands out and instantly went into trying to escape. He held me down as I struggled and I heard the lace over the back of my dress ripping as he tore open the fabric. I started screaming for help again and made eye contact with Philip. He was watching, gun drooping towards the floor and eyes full of pity.

My dress was torn all down the back when Joe stopped. He stood up and walked over to the hose again, lifted it and sprayed me. I flinched away at the shower of water and got to my feet again, backing against the wall. I wanted to just bolt and try my luck but I knew I wouldn't make it.

And my hands were holding up the tattered remains of my dress. Joe looked me in the eyes again darkly.

"You take it off or I will." I let my head fall against the wall behind me. My entire body shook from tremors of fear and cold. At that point I realized, what do I have to lose? Why not just make a run for it? The odds were against me but for all I knew I was going to die anyway. So I tried.

***

The blanket did little to protect me from the cold air, especially in this tattered old sweatshirt. The spot on my face from where Joe had hit me was throbbing. I'd tried to run. And I'd made it about as far as logic said I would and now I was back in the room, bound by my wrists and ankles. The shower that had been forced upon me had been awful and left me trembling even after I was dry.

There had been no rape, which was a huge relief. But it did make me wonder why I was here. If they weren't here to rape me and all then why was I still locked in this basement?

Then, as if they'd heard my thoughts, the door opened. Only Philip wasn't there, it was just Joe. I had nowhere to go and no way to get there so I just sat on the floor and watched. He stood over me and I was terrified I'd spoken too soon.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked. I had no idea. I shook my head no. He nodded. "You think I'm Joe...?"

"Yeah," I said, my voice nearly a whisper.

"My name is John. And it's your fault my brother lost everything."

What?

"We never had good lives. Our parents beat us. We were poor. Got involved with gangs and drugs. I left my brother for the first time in my life... and then I hear of this woman he's fucking. And her kid. And how he's in jail. Do you know where he is now?" John looks at me hatefully.

"..Jail..?" I say and his jaw tightens.

"..Nope. No no no.. Not anymore." his voice drops an octave and the way he's looking at me is scary, "He's dead."

I say nothing. Why should I? I'm not sad. I never felt anything but hate towards Joe.

"It's your fault," John growls.

"It's his own," I say and John wastes no time before backhanding me across the face. I fall over on my side and stay on the ground, knowing that if I get up it'll just be an excuse for him to beat me into the ground again. If he's anything like his brother, that's what he'd do.

"You want to know why you're here?" he leaned down and took a fist full of my hair, lifting it so I had to look at him. "You stole my brother's life. So I'm stealing yours."

"You're going to kill me?" I asked breathlessly as his grip loosened.

"No," he stood up, "Do you know the approximate number of human trafficking victims in the world is twelve-point-three million? And less than one percent are identified? Most women, in fact, are just runaways that were kidnapped and sent into the system. Young women sometimes even in their teen years. But a lot of them are just young adults in their twenties. Who loved to party. Who loved to go to illegal clubs and hang around bad people. They disappear. People assume they just skip town but the thing is.. They're never found again." he looked me hard in the eyes, "And people forget about them."

"...So why am I still here?" I asked. My perception of time was off but I was pretty sure I'd been here a few days. Why wait? The longer I was here the more they risked my escape. He turned and walked towards the door, pausing momentarily.

"Don't you worry about that..." he said and left me to myself.