Tears of Tess

  Trepidation crawled like icy spiders in my blood. I squeezed Brax’s hand as intuition sat up, ringing a loud warning gong. I was a firm believer in listening to my gut—it saved me more than once. “Brax?”

  A woman with tobacco stained teeth grinned a holey smile as she appeared. “Well, well, nice to see some customers on such a hot day.” Her accented voice rasped across my skin like sandpaper. “What can I get you?”

  My heart wouldn’t stay still. I wanted to say something. I wanted to leave. But Brax grinned. “Two Cokes, please.”

  The woman peered at me, her gaze dark as midnight. “No food?”

  I stiffened, hating how jittery I was, how much I wanted to run. Before Brax could decide he was hungry, as well as thirsty, I said, “Just drinks. And quickly, we’re supposed to be somewhere, we’re running late.” My snappy tone caused Brax to quirk an eyebrow.

  The lady grimaced, shuffling away.

  Brax tugged me to a table, and we sat directly under a ceiling fan stirring the hot, stagnant air. Sweat grew tacky on my skin, cooling to a chill. I grabbed a napkin to wipe my face.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Brax asked, wiping the back of his neck with his hand.

  I looked behind, trying to figure out why my spidey senses wigged out of control, but nothing seemed wrong. It was just a shabby eatery. No more. Maybe I was being stupid….

  “Nothing. Sorry. I really want to go back to the hotel for a swim, that’s all.” I flashed a smile.

  He grinned, his shiny face pink from the drive. “We’ll go as soon as we’re done.” Laughing, he added, “We must look like such gringos. No wonder the waitress gave us a weird look.”

  My gut clenched. Somehow, I knew that wasn’t the reason. She’d looked at me almost…hungrily.

  A scuffle sounded behind; I twisted in the chair to look. Toward the back of the restaurant, near the cash register, a man appeared. His voice was low, angry, as he shook the waitress, fingers digging into her upper arm.

  My stomach flipped, kicking out trepidation and blowing it into full-fledged fright. I couldn’t stay.

  “Brax, I’m not comfortable. Can we can get the Cokes to go?”

  He slouched in the rickety chair. “I don’t think I can drink and navigate, hun. Just give me ten minutes, okay? Then we’ll go.” He looked sun-whipped and parched.

  I nodded sharply, biting my tongue. I didn’t want to seem like a drama queen, but damn, my flesh rippled with panic. I wanted to be gone. Far, far away, back to the safety of the resort.

  My legs jiggled under the table, anxiety pinging in my limbs.

  Another man entered the café, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans. His greasy skin shone with sweat, and he had a chunk missing from the top of his ear. Long, stringy hair hung over a gaunt face. His eyes fell on mine; I froze.

  It was like looking into a predators gaze: empty, hungry, black, and evil. It sucked my soul, amping my fear to a full forest fire.

  “Brax—”

  “Here you go.” The gap-tooth waitress deposited dewy, icy cans of Coke in front of us along with pink straws. I broke eye contact with Mr. Leather Jacket, swallowing hard. Keep it together. Brax is here. Brax will protect you.

  Brax cracked a can open and swigged, groaning. “Crap, I was thirsty.” He hadn’t noticed my fear, focused entirely on rehydrating.

  On autopilot, I opened mine and sipped. The bubbles added to the froth of terror in my stomach. Why was I reacting like this? Calm down, Tess. It was a stupid, white girl reaction to being in a dive of a place that was perfectly normal in this over-populated city.

  Brax guzzled his drink and stood. “I just gotta take a leak. I’ll be right back.”

  My fear jettisoned into a geyser of panic. “No! I mean, do you have to go here? We can find a McDonald’s or some local garage.” I twisted my fingers, hidden in my lap. “I doubt the facilities will be clean.”

  He laughed. “This isn’t convenience central. I don’t know if we’ll be able to find anywhere else, and it will be another hour before we’re back at the hotel. I’ll just be a tick.”

  I clutched my Coke until my fingers turned white, trying to stem panic, and stop being so clingy. I nodded.

  Brax blew me a kiss, striding toward the back of the café. His green t-shirt was dark with sweat, showing every curve of muscle. Muscle that could protect me, muscle that was walking away. With every step he took, my heart died a little more. I had no explanation for my behaviour, but some pessimistic part throbbed with grief.

  Turn around. Come back.

  Brax didn’t do either as he disappeared through a door marked Baño.

  My blood rocketed with adrenaline and my eyes darted around the café, looking for danger. Instincts told me I was in peril. I just didn’t know from what.

  No one was around. Even the guy in his leather jacket disappeared.

  See, Tess. Nothing to be afraid of.

  Something fluffy twined around my legs, making me jump so high I knocked my can of Coke over. Shoving my chair back, I looked beneath the table.

  A mangy orange cat blinked, meowing. Holy shit, I had to calm down. My heart would combust at the rate it hammered. Every part of me buzzed on high alert.

  “Stop staring, kitty.” I kept my legs away from the feline and the sticky puddle of Coke.

  A minute passed agonisingly slowly; my eyes refused to look anywhere but at the door where Brax disappeared. How long did it take for him to do his business? Surely, he should be done by now.

  I fiddled with my bracelet. The silver hearts indented fingers as I pressed hard, using them as rosary beads, summoning my boyfriend to return. My mouth grew dry and chalky, palms slick with nerves.

  Come on, Brax. Should I go and wait by the bike? Anything would be better than sitting there terrified. Yes, waiting by the bike was a good idea—in public, in the sunshine.

  I stood and turned to leave. My heart flopped into my toes.

  Three men guarded the exit. Arms crossed, lips stretched against dirty, rotten teeth. Leather Jacket Man stood in the middle. Our eyes locked and the same evil energy assaulted me, casting oozing black shadows. Unable to look away, my very existence stuttered under the weight of blackness. My instincts had been right.

  I was in deep shit.

  “Brax!” I screeched, taking off for the door. I didn’t care if I over-reacted or if they were there for a casual drink. My instincts screamed, hollered, banged on my ribs to react.

  I needed to run.

  Run!

  Flip-flops slapped against linoleum as I bolted.

  The men scrambled into action, knocking over a table in the rush to chase me. No. No. Please, no.

  I hyperventilated as I disappeared through the door, and screamed as a large hand fisted my hair yanking backward into a stinking hot torso.

  “Brax!” I twisted and hissed, holding onto my scalp. Ignoring the burn of torn hair, I turned into something rabid. I bit the man’s arm banded across my chest.

  He swore in Spanish, dropping me. I fell to my knees, but was running a second later. Nothing mattered but getting to Brax.

  “Brax!” I shot to the men’s room, only to careen into the solid body of a fourth man. Blood covered his knuckles as he slapped a hand over my mouth, slamming me against the wall. The stench of his palm made me dry heave; I thrashed in his grip.

  He grunted, keeping me pinned.

  My life shrivelled in hopelessness as I looked over his shoulder. Brax sprawled on the dirty bathroom floor, face covered in blood. An arm lay awkwardly and eyes closed. “No!”

  Rage, passion, and horror exploded, and I chomped down on the man’s palm, tasting rust from breaking flesh.

  “Puta!” he cursed as I wriggled, trying to jerk my knee between his legs.

  “Brax! Wake up!” I kicked free, only to be captured by Leather Jacket. He hissed something in my ear I didn’t understand. His awful fingers squeezed a breast, and dragged me away from Brax.

  “No! Let me go!?
?? I screamed, too angry and focused on survival to cry. “Fucking bastard, leave me the fuck alone!”

  Another rancid hand clamped over my mouth and nose, cutting off oxygen. Lungs bucked, kicking in my chest.

  I slammed my hip back, connecting with the soft meat between my captor’s legs. Leather Jacket howled and shoved me away, hunched over his injured cock.

  Run, Tess. Run.

  I whimpered, caught in indecision. I wanted to check on Brax but I had to get away. Find help then rescue him. But no matter how hard I fought, there were always more men. It was like fighting quick sand—a battle I couldn’t win.

  “Brax! God’s sake I need y—”

  Leather Jacket took two steps and sucker-punched me in the jaw.

  Fireworks exploded behind my eyes, and I fell. Falling, falling, heavy and useless. The floor welcomed with a teeth-rattling embrace. Colours danced in front of my eyes as sickness tried to claim me.

  Someone pressed into my lower back, wrenching arms behind me, and wrapping something coarse and tight around my wrists.

  He jerked me upright. The world swam with vertigo, leaving me upside down, back to front.

  Leather Jacket’s evil eyes glinted with pleasure as he smothered me with a black hood.

  *Dove*

  My sense of smell returned first.

  Touch, taste, sound, sight, all remained dormant. But smell. How could I ignore the reek?

  Stale sweat and the ammonia of piss. Musk, body odour, and garbage.

  My stomach flopped, turning me into a pretzel of horror.

  Brax!

  Oh, God, Brax. Was he okay? Was he dead? All that blood. My lungs went on strike. Brax was back there—wherever there was, alone and in pain. Would I ever see him again? Thoughts rammed like dodgems in my skull. My head pounded with a nasty headache.

  Fear, rank and cloying, crawled up my throat. That bastard had been so eager to hit me, as if he lived to be violent. I had no hope against men like that. I knew it was weak, but I wished they’d killed me rather than take me. Who knew what brutality existed in my future.

  Another whiff of ammonia; I gagged behind my hood, hoping I didn’t throw up and drown in vomit. I panted, forcing the urge away.

  Just remain calm. I’d relied on myself all my life. If I got into trouble, my parents were too busy with my brother to offer a shoulder to cry on. I turned to myself in happiness and in terror. I would get out of this. No one was going to take my freedom.

  I slid to the side suddenly, gravity extracting a toll as we careened around a corner. Wits came back, battling the foggy pain. I must be in a vehicle.

  My sense of hearing returned.

  A whimper sounded. I jerked, trying to move away, only for the whimper to grow into a wail. The plea was undoubtedly feminine.

  A man cursed, followed by a thud and a cry.

  How many victims were in here? I didn’t want to die. A tragic statistic of another tourist kidnapped in Mexico. Brax and I were so stupid, travelling with the illusion of being untouchable.

  More whimpers and gruff commands as the engine hummed and tyres squealed, gripping the road, taking corners too fast.

  I wasn’t alone. There were others. Others taken. Stolen. Abducted.

  I shouldn’t have taken comfort in that, but I did. Just the knowledge I might have allies gave me a burst of hope.

  My sense of taste returned.

  Immediately, the horrible stench coated my tongue, along with the sweet residue of Coke and sharp tang of terror.

  The Coke reminded me of Brax, and I plummeted into heartache. Even if I did manage to escape, how would I ever find Brax? I had no clue where the café was, or how we got there. Would the hotel come looking when we didn’t return with the scooter?

  My throat latched closed, tormented by images of Brax dying on the lonely wasteland of a men’s bathroom floor. Surely, they wouldn’t let him die. Someone would take him to hospital.

  They took me. They took me.

  Oh, God. The realization hit like a ten-ton cruise ship. They took me! I was powerless.

  My breath steamed the inside of the hood, melting my ears and eyelashes with panicked heat. My vision remained black and useless. The hood obscured everything, hushing the surroundings with dirty cloth.

  A rough hand landed on my thigh, squeezing hard. Jumping, I tried to crawl away, but the bindings on my wrists yanked me to a halt.

  A language I didn’t understand lilted, twisting my heart, making me wish I could wake up and it would all be a nightmare.

  The hand clutched my thigh again, wrenching my knees apart.

  Red flashed in my vision. I welcomed the rage and kicked as hard as possible. I screamed as an unwelcome hand groped between my legs. My leggings didn’t offer any resistance from the horrible pressure. I suffered a slap to the side of my head as I fought.

  The fingers disappeared, and I choked on the sudden rush of relief. I coughed, hacking up every emotion inside. This couldn’t be happening.

  The vehicle screeched to a stop, and the clunking of doors opening resonated. Heartbeats pounded in my ears like heavy drums.

  My legs were grabbed, and my butt scraped along a sharp surface. Someone grunted, scooped me up, and threw me over his shoulder like a dead carcass.

  Vertigo rushed to my head, lips pressed against dirty cloth.

  The power of terror-filled unknown sucked me into a dark place deep inside—a place full of rapists and murderers and unmentionable monsters. Self-pity oozed, and my will to survive faltered.

  No!

  I couldn’t be sucked into depression and give up. I would never give up. I would fight until I died; I’d teach the kidnappers they stole the wrong girl if they wanted meek and broken.

  In some sick way, they proved my own self-worth. My parents may not want me, but these bastards sure did. They’d stolen me because they had to.

  I was valuable. I had to stay strong and survive.

  I hung over the kidnapper’s shoulder, being carted to who knew where, and something happened.

  My mind fractured, literally unthreaded, splitting into two entities. The girl I was: my hopes and dreams, aspirations and love for Brax all blazed bright and true. My insecurities and need for love saddened me. I saw my own fragility.

  But that didn’t matter, because the other part—the new part—was fierce. This girl had no brokenness or issues. She was warrior who’d seen blood, stared monsters in the face, and knew without a doubt her life would be hers again.

  Somehow the new part wrapped around the nucleus of the old Tess, protecting, cushioning me from the horrors to come.

  At least, that’s what I hoped happened.

  I truly, truly hoped.

  * * * * *

  The hood was ripped off my head, taking some hair with it, the rest arched and spat with static electricity. I blinked, light saturating my eyes as everything shone with overexposure.

  I was in a room.

  Dark, dingy, not a dungeon, but not far off. Bunk beds lined each of the four walls. The lack of windows, and dampness from the floor, settled fast into my bones.

  I sat on a threadbare mattress, looking around my new home. Girls huddled on each bed. All of them wore an aura of tragedy, eyes bruised with loss, skin painted with injuries and shadows.

  A man loomed over me, his beard black and gross. Reaching behind him, he bared a knife.

  I flinched, and tried to crawl away. Some part said he wouldn’t hurt me. Not yet. But the other part saw the knife and cowered.

  I knew what a knife did. It cut things. Butchered things. I didn’t want to be butchered.

  The man grunted, digging fingers into my shoulder, pressing me into the dank mattress on the bottom bunk. I yelped as he rolled me onto my belly. I kicked and twisted, trying to stay upright, fighting an already lost battle.

  The motion of sawing caused the string around my wrists to bite deep into sore skin. The blade was blunt and it seemed to take forever before the bindings finally broke
.

  The man released me, backing away with a scowl. I slowly sat upright, rubbing my wrists, skin indented and heated with a raw, angry red.

  “You. Stay.” He jabbed a finger in my face before stomping to the exit. The heavy, black door opened and he disappeared. The room echoed with a loud click as the lock slammed home.

  The moment he was gone, I gawked at my new roommates. Only a few girls met my eyes, the rest slouched with fear.

  I couldn’t stop staring. Eight bunk-beds. Eight women. All of us ranged from early to late twenties. There was no rhyme in our abduction. Some of us were blonde, others black, redhead, and brown. Our skin colour didn’t match either: three Asian, two black, and three white.

  Nothing screamed pattern. The police wouldn’t be able to work out who’d be the next victim—it seemed any woman easy enough to steal was fair game. Whether we were tall, short, fat, slim. Big breasted, long legged. We were all there for one reason.

  A reason I didn’t yet know.

  A reason I didn’t want to know.

  Hours passed while we stared at each other. No one talked—we didn’t need to. We communicated in our silence, deeper than words. Our souls talked. We comforted one another, all the while sharing grief over what would become of us.

  The flickering light bulb illuminated our cage, sending tension rippling around the room.

  Some time, hours later, the door opened and a younger man with wonky teeth and a jagged facial scar appeared, depositing a tray of eight bowls in the centre of the room. The stagnant air of our prison filled with scents of food—something stir-fried with a platter of warm bread to scoop it up with. My stomach growled; I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  My heart stuttered, thinking about Brax. It seemed so long ago, sharing our first night in Cancun, enjoying our connection.

  I forced myself to stop thinking about him. It hurt too much.

  No one moved, but we all stared longingly at the food once the door locked again.

  I waited to see if there was a hierarchy.

  No one budged.

  The scent of dinner overwhelmed, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. I needed my strength to fight. I wouldn’t sit waiting—who knew when they would come for us.