Fighting My Way Out

Defensive Positions

Pale colors were blooming across the sky as I discovered the outskirts of a small town. With renewed energy, I dashed deeper into the town's center. It wasn't very large, it didn't take too long to find the police station. I burst through the door, nearly collapsing in a rush of relief.

"Help," I croaked out, almost not making a sound.

I collapsed onto the floor, not being able to handle my own weight any longer. The agony of my injuries quickly caught up to me as I sobbed uncontrollably on the floor. Officers came rounding the corner, looking alarmed at my bloody mass yelling out orders I couldn't hear. I remembered collapsing into some officer's arms, numb to any pain, closing my eyes trying to relax.

"People," I wheeze out, "sex slaves... mansion down the road."

"Oh, I know, sweetheart," I knew that voice.

I opened my eyes and found my rapist's eyes staring back, the man from the mansion last night. The police force was in on it; maybe just him, maybe all of them. I yanked myself out of his arms with no small amount of difficulty. Whatever scabs had formed over my wounds split open as I scrambled to my weary feet. A couple other police officers had gathered around us, looking interested; I should have known a small town like that so close to the mansion would have known something.

They had me blocked in the lobby, guarding the door, but they weren't guarding behind me, leading further into the building. Being small and agile, I was quicker on my feet then they were in their bulky uniforms and I was able to dodge around the desk into the hallway behind. They were quick to react, but I was able to duck into one of the side rooms and lock the door. I knew they would have keys somewhere and it wouldn't take long to find the right one; then I would truly be cornered.

I turned to see what I could use as a weapon against the three of them only to discover I was in the ammunition's room. I knew they would definitely find the key to that room, so I barred the door with a metal stool they kept for the higher shelves. It fit tight and snug, but I didn't know how long that was going to keep them out. I would have enough time to ready myself for when they did.

Fortunately, I had shot a gun before. My adopted dad, Richard, had showed me a couple years ago; said it might have been a good skill to have when I live on my own. Although I had never shot a rifle before, only a small pistol and they didn't have anything small in that armory. I would just have to make due and arm myself with the biggest weapon they had, it didn't matter that they were police officers, they were a part of that ring. In my mind it was either them or me and it sure as hell wasn't going to have been me.

I was right in that they found the key quickly and they began trying to kick down the door, but the stool was giving them a hard time. I had loaded the rifle and knelt, bracing the butt of the gun against me, trying to aim at the center of the door for when they burst through. And when they finally did, I opened fire, not paying any mind to the fact they were people. Me or them. The force of the weapon drove me back into the shelf and I was fairly certain my shoulder was dislocated, but I kept firing. The power of my will outranked the pain I was experiencing.

I wasn't entirely sure if I was hitting anything or just scaring them, but they swore and cried out as I fired blindly into them. And suddenly I was out of ammo, relaxing I looked toward the work I had done. Holes riddled the walls opposite me and there were heavy blood splatters against the floor and walls; I hit someone but couldn't see them. Just as a precaution, I reloaded the gun; the last thing I wanted was to be caught by surprise again. I wandered out into the hall, looking about the space with caution. I noticed there was a trail of blood leading further back into the station; I could only hope they had all gathered back there and were injured.

Turning the corner into an office space, two of them were laying motionless on the floor, dark blood pooling around them. The third was clutching onto his bleeding leg while on the radio, trying to contact someone.

"10-32, 10-32, officers down," he wheezed into the device.

"10-4," a voice replied, "State Troopers enroute."

The officer looked as though he didn't know whether to be relieved or worried. My guess was he didn't want State Troopers sniffing around finding out they were a part of a human trafficking ring. Too bad, I was going to testify everything I knew.

The officer tried to get to his feet, struggling against his injury. I held up the gun, trying to point it at his face and he knew it.

"Stay down," I ground out. "I have had enough of this shit, and I'm giving you one warning to back the hell down before I blow your face off."

He was smart enough to stand down, putting his hands up on his head although he wasn't armed. I resolved to stand there and watch him until the State Troopers arrived, which didn't take long. As they burst through the doors, I was sure the first thing they noticed were the blood splatters in the hall. I put down my weapon to appear less threatening for when they saw me; of course, in my injured state I didn't appear much like a threat to begin with.

The amount of movement happening all at once was overwhelming as Troopers storm through the room.

"They're a part of a human trafficking ring happening just down the road at a mansion," I blurted out as officers surrounded me. "They tried to sell me, but I fought back! I defended myself."

"We believe you, miss," says one of the officers, putting a blanket over my shoulders. "Just look at the state of you; you've clearly been through a horrific ordeal."

They believed me, arresting the officer bleeding on the ground. And before my mind could catch up to events, I was in an ambulance being hooked up to an IV. Sensing I was in a comfortable, safe space, I allowed myself to pass out; sheer exhaustion and agonizing pain quickly settling into my body.