Sold to the trade* (Watty awards 2012)

Sold to the trade [Chapter 7]

Skylar P.O.V

A cold shiver ran down my spine, turning blood went cold.

“No, no, no!” I cried, cupping my ears trying to drown out his words. This couldn’t be happening.

They can’t see me again. I won’t allow it.

I dropped my head in my hands. “No, I don’t want to. I'm not going to. Shit. P-please, David, do something.”

David sighed sadly. “Darlin’ I'm so angry with them. They have no right to see you. I tried to stop this…but I can’t. They either come to you, or you go to them,” he finished.

I clenched my fists. “No, please. I don’t want to go through this again,” I said. “No…I can’t…You can’t do this to me!” I cried, pushing the chair away and standing up.

“Leave me alone! I w-want to be alone….alone. Go away!” I yelled, running out of the McDonald’s; just like I always do. I ran from my problems before. I run wherever my legs will take me.

I met Aidan in the same park.  For some reason, I went there now in the hopes of seeing him.

Holding the spliff in my hand, I inhaled it. I breathed it out, feeling the heat of the smoke against my skin.

“What’s up?” Aidan asked me.

We were sitting on a bench on the park - the same bench we sat on last time. Aidan had a blanket to keep us both warm, his body touching mine. But the drug was helping me ignore it.

As usual, the park was deserted. This was a good way to get away from it all - away from people, the troubles, the hurt and the worries. Anything and everything that dare hurt me.

They couldn’t hurt me now. Not here, where I felt invincible. “I-” I began.

“You’re too ashamed,” he said quietly. “I can tell by the look on your face.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Aidan took a big drag of his roll up and rested his hand on his knee, his roll up still lighted in his hand. “When I was a little boy, my dad…he’d come home drunk every night and blame my mum’s death on me. He’d kick the shit into me; he'd smash the ends of beer bottles onto my head. As a result, I grew up blaming myself for my mum’s death. Now, I'm taking the therapy I need to find myself a job. Then I'm going to get my life on track. I'm only twenty-one; I have a life ahead of me…” he trailed.

I looked at him blankly. “You’re still smoking weed,” I said.

Adrian nodded. “Baby steps,” he winked.

I giggled and looked down at my hands, fiddling with them. “When I was little, bad things happened to me. Do you know what human trafficking is?” I asked him, my palms drowned in a cold sweat.