Screaming in silence (camren)

Chapter 2

     My scream creased to bring me comfort a few turns into the drive. I relaxed onto my back, the most comfortable position I could find considering how badly bruised and beaten it was. Large tears fell from my eyes and mixed with the blood on my face. I wanted to sleep, I wanted to dream, I wanted to be pulled from this nightmare but even with my eyes closed, sleep alluded me.
    "Hi, I'm Dinah"
    "I'm Camila. It's very nice to meet you."
The look she gave me was a curious one. I was used to this reaction and it didn't faze me any longer. At a younger age, it had hurt and I had been ashamed of my voice. Ashamed enough that I had to remain silent. But I learned to move past it. I learned that I had quite a bit to say and even though I couldn't hear it right. Even though it sounded strange to others, my voice was worth the hassle of explaining my condition.
"Where are you from?"
"Miami, Florida."
"Oh. I didn't recognize your accent."
I smiled at her. "I'm dead. There's no accent."
Her face reddened and she looked apologetic. "Shit. Now I feel bad."
But I shook my head. "Don't worry about it. It happens."
She nodded. "So if you're from Miami, Florida, what are you doing all the way up here?"
"Sightseeing."
"Right. Sightseeing at a trucker stop in Tennessee?"
"I'm trying to get to the coast," I explained. "I got a ride all the way from Indiana."
"No shit! That far? How long did you have to wait for that one?"
"A few days." I smiled at her. I liked this girl. It had been a while since I had last spoken with a female my own age.
"Which beach are you trying to make it to? "She picked up her bag from the ground and slung it over her shoulder.
"It really doesn't matter, I guess. Just one with an ocean."
         "Well, I'm on my way to North Carolina if you'd like to tag along. I could sure use the company. These truckers aren't the best conversationalists."
         I smiled and nodded, agreeing completely. Dinah was the first female butcher I had met and I was desperately in need of a friend. The road from Florida had been lonely and even though I had the company of whoever stopped to pick me up, I knew our relationship would be short lived.
        "Alright, then! Let's go find us a ride! Two pretty girls like us should have no problem getting picked up." She smiled at me and extended her hand. I stood up from the curb where I was sitting and followed her to the first driver in a long line of waiting trucks, eager to see where this new relationship would take me.
    My breath became heavy as I felt the car roll to a stop. Part of me wanted the three people to forget about me and leave me in the trunk. The other part was dying to stand up and stretch my sore arms and legs. I knew I needed to see a doctor. At least one of my ribs was broken and I wasn't sure how deep the cuts on my face and torso were. But a doctor was out of the question and even if I had been naive enough to ask for one, I knew I would be laughed at.
The trunk popped open and I blinked at the light. We must have driven all night and into morning because the sun was high in the sky. As my eyes adjusted, I saw the other guy speak to me. More like yell at me.
    "Get out!" I could tell he was screaming from the muscles chorded in his neck.
       I sat up and looked around warily, not expecting to recognize where I was but hoping for a miracle. Pine trees surrounded us in every direction. An overrun dirt road forked up a hill. A quaint and unimposing house with yellow trim and brick facade sat in between the trees.
    I climbed out of the car and winced at the pain in my ribs. The man closed his pudgy fingers around my arms and led me to the front door, which had been left open by Austin and the woman with green eyes. The inside of the house didn't do justice to the outside of it. The windows were all open yet there was a heavy, stale smell in the air. The carpets were dirty and ripped from the floor near the walls. The wallpaper was stained and pealing.
     The two of the three people were already seated at a table, one of the new pieces of furniture in the house, pouring out the contents of my bag. Julie's bag sat on the floor next to them.
There, mere feet from me ,being carelessly thrown about, were the entire contents of my life everything I owned and all I could carry with me. Clothes, underwear, toothbrush, expensive make up - I couldn't leave my vanity behind - and my wallet it contain my only identification.
Austin found the wallet and grabbed it, opening the leather pouch and eyeing the contents inside of it.
" Karla Camila Cabello Estrabao from Miami, Florida. Hmmmm." I always preferred going by Camila. I watched Austin throw my ID aside and continue going though my wallet. I felt violated. What have him the right?
"Three hundred and fifty bucks not bad." Austin handed the money to the green eyed woman. She glanced at me suspiciously.
"Any credit cards?" She asked.
"Four."
My stare returned to the woman with green eyes. She stood up and walked towards me, leaving the cash on the table. "Give her to me."
     The other man handed me over as Austin watched. "Where are you taking her?"
      Her grip was as strong as it had been last night. She turned to face her friend at  front of the table and said something I couldn't see. Austin nodded and returned to my bag. I found myself pulling from the room and up the stairs. Horrifying scenario raced though my head. I struggled against her, tripping and scraping my shins on the splintered stairs. I could only imagine what she was going to do to me and I wasn't ready for any of it. I pulled against her hand and pushed her arm away with all strength but nothing helped and I was too sore to fight for long.
    At the top of the stairs, she pushed me into the bathroom and pinned me against a wall.
    Her face hovered inches from me.
   "Look, you may not be able to hear me, but I don't believe for a minute that you can't speak. Everything about you from your designer jeans to the four credit cards in your wallet screams daddy's money and higher education so if you want to keep up the act, that's fine. Just know that I'm not letting you out of my sights. You aren't going to fuck this up for me."
      I stared at her, more of glare, really, and waited for her to say something else. This woman was perceptive and even if she didn't know who I was or why I had been on the side of the road, she knew my type: spoiled brat with too many advantages and not enough ambition. She glared back, challenging me to speak but when I didn't, she released my shoulders and took a few steps back, lowering the lid of the toilet and sitting down.
     "Shower," she commanded and pointed to the curtain "You look like shit."