Page 6 of Rami

Footsteps crunched on gravel. Panic made her brain momentarily fuzzy.

She moved back to her spot near the wall, where a small piece of linoleum near the baseboard had lifted. Peeling back the flooring a bit, she tucked the nail underneath it. Then she slid back to her position on the floor and lay down, turning her face toward the wall so they wouldn’t see she was awake. Inch-thick dust and dirt caked the baseboard, and the walls were blotched with stains that looked like coffee but were probably urine.

Every instinct in her body screamed at her to use the nail. But she couldn’t. She had to figure out how to get the shackle off and then strike when there was only one of them. No way she’d be able to fight them both.

Their footsteps grew closer, and her heart thundered in her chest. She focused on slowing down her breath for fear they’d hear her when they got inside.

The metal stairs rattled and the trailer shook. Her captors’ argument carried through the paper-thin wood. “How’s that my job?” the woman, Marty, hissed.

During the brief periods when Ivy was conscious and not high on whatever drugs they gave her, she’d hear them fighting more often than not. Sometimes it resulted in Marty getting her face punched by Wayne, her partner.

She’d also heard other sounds from the couple, and in those moments, she prayed the drugs would take her back into their ruthless arms before her captors sensed she was awake and dragged her into their bed. Wayne often tried to persuade Marty to do so. The woman didn’t have a sensitive or compassionate bone in her body, so her resistance was likely out of jealousy.

If Ivy didn’t escape soon, the time would come when she was alone with Wayne. A shudder covered her from head to toe.

The door banged open, and she fought not to jump.

“’Cause Fernando said to keep her healthy lookin’,” Wayne snapped. “Now they’re ready to take her and she looks like shit. Clean her up and feed her. We’ll delay them a couple days.”

Terror spread through Ivy like a flashfire. If she didn’t get out of here soon, she’d be passed off to the highest bidder.

Marty huffed. “The others were gone in a couple days, max.”

Couch springs squealed as Wayne dropped into the seat. Ivy didn’t need eyes in the back of her head. She’d become so accustomed to their sounds that she could sense their movements as easily as seeing them.

A beer hissed open. “I told ya. She ain’t like the others. We’ll get a lot of money for this gig.”

Marty sighed and the couch squeaked again. “Fine.” A second slipped by. “She should be awake by now.”

Wayne grunted. “If she’s dead, you’re joinin’ her. I fuckin’ told ya we couldn’t leave her too long without water.” The flick of a lighter followed by crackling reached her ears. After a minute, sweet-smelling smoke spread through the dense air inside the trailer.

Goosebumps raised Ivy’s flesh. It wasn’t so much the sound or the smell that got her—it was what would follow. The insides of her elbows and forearms burned as if her veins recognized the poison in the air. Anticipated it.

“Check on her,” Wayne commanded.

Marty’s footsteps, much lighter than Wayne’s, padded across the linoleum. A shadow passed over Ivy’s body and she snapped her eyes shut. Her lungs heaved in her chest, screaming at her to breathe, but she forced low, shallow breaths through her nose.

Now that she’d been conscious, she couldn’t handle the idea of another hit of the drug. Couldn’t stand the thought of being knocked out and not knowing what they were doing to her.

Marty crouched and leaned close, bringing her ear near Ivy’s lips. “She fucking stinks. She’s breathin’, though. Pass me the needle.”

Wayne tsked. “Didn’t you hear what I said? She needs water, for fuck’s sake. You blow this job and I swear to Satan, woman—”

Ivy didn’t dare open her eyes to see Marty’s reaction.

Marty muttered something under her breath and shuffled away. A moment later she approached again. A sneaker-covered foot pressed against Ivy’s bare thigh and shook her. “Get up,” Marty growled.

Ivy blinked her eyes open, feigning sleepiness. She rubbed her face and glanced up at her captor. Marty’s black bicycle shorts hugged her thighs, and her sweat-stained yellow tank top accentuated her heavy middle. Her long, dark hair was tied in a bun on her head. Fraying wet strands sprung out around her head. The melted mascara that ringed Marty’s eyes also didn’t do her any favors.

“Drink.” She opened a bottle of water and passed it to Ivy.

Ivy accepted the bottle with a shaking hand, making precious liquid spill from the top. She brought the plastic to her lips and drank. Cold liquid filled the barren cavern of her mouth. The water was fresh and tasted like heaven. Greed overtook her—she tipped back the bottle and chugged. Water ran down her throat and filled her belly, which had been empty for days.

She gasped and paused, praying she wouldn’t upchuck. She closed her eyes and waited but nothing happened. Her body had absorbed the water like a sponge.

“Done?” Marty snarled.

Ivy shook her head and started pounding the rest of the water, but Marty wrenched the plastic from her lips before she got to the last drop. “That’s enough.” She turned to Wayne. “Now get me the shit.”

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