Page 3 of Liberator

She walked away and out of the room. I let her go. What else was I supposed to do?

She had a hard road ahead of her, so maybe I could be a friend. I felt like we’d made a connection, an understanding of one another, and that made the foundation of a good friendship.

Vikki definitely needed a friend.

Sure, she had Liz, but Liz was more like a mother figure and would be raising her child. She was going away and leaving Vikki behind. There was no guarantee they’d ever see each other again. Maybe I was the one who’d stand in for Liz when necessary.

I danced with the bride and drank with the groom for a couple of hours. The wedding gave us all a break from the pressure we were under from both the cartel and the mafia. The cartel was most certainly going to retaliate in some way, and we owed the mafia for all they’d done to help us.

In a few nights I’d be starting the extra runs to Mexico to pay them back, and I wouldn’t have much time to do any partying, so I was making the best of it.

I was getting hot from all the champagne and dancing, so I stepped outside for some air. What I saw brought my mind back around to Vikki. Liz was getting into a sedan with an older couple. The couple was being very attentive to her, so I figured they were her parents. They’d come to take her home. I was happy for her.

Then, I noticed she carried a bundle in her arms. It had to be Vikki’s baby. My heart gave a lurch as I watched it disappear into the car.

For a brief moment I’d held that tiny life in my hands and I felt bonded with it. If it was hurting me that much to see it go, then what must it have done to Vikki?

Without considering the consequences of my actions, I raced up the stairs to the room Vikki had been assigned. The door was open, and I saw her tossing the few belongings we’d collected for her into a beat-up old bag I recognized as one of Flame’s.

Her shoulders drooped in a way that spoke of internal pain and sadness. It came close to breaking my heart.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded in quick defense of my feelings.

“Exactly what you think I’m doing,” she answered. “It should be plain to see. If I’m not supposed to take this stuff just say so.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that shit! It’s all yours. We don’t give gifts then take them back. I want to know why you’re packing. It’s late, and it’s not safe for you to go,” I replied.

“Liz left. Did you try to stop her?”

“I saw her go, but that’s different. She was with what I assume are her parents. She’s safe in their car not wandering the streets in the dark. She’ll be in a whole other state soon. You can’t go out there alone. The cartel may be watching us and just waiting to grab you again,” I explained.

She turned her pretty face toward me, and I saw the red-rimmed eyes and the puffy cheeks. She’d been crying.

“What difference does it make? If they take me again, then it’s what I deserve. I gave my child away. I have no home to go to. I’m nothing, just a waste of space like all the foster parents told me. Go back to the party. I’ll see myself out,” she replied.

I gently grabbed her wrist to end the packing. I was surprised she wasn’t trying to hide her pain. “They lied. Too many foster parents are in it for the money. They don’t have a clue what the kids need, and most of them don’t give a damn. They lash out with lies to belittle the kids, so they’ll behave. Sit down and get calm. Think before you make a mistake.”

“Don’t you mean before I make ANOTHER mistake?” she sarcastically asked.

“Not at all. I just think you’ll be safer here than out there,” I said.

“I can’t stay here forever. I don’t belong. I’ve never belonged anywhere,” she stated.

I rubbed a hand over my face in frustration. She was so down on herself that I didn’t know how to fix it. I wasn’t a psychiatrist, but I had to try. No one else was around.

“Tell me your story,” I commanded.

“What? Why? Do you want some kind of entertainment from my sob story? Will it make you feel like a hero to know you saved the poor, pitiful girl who nobody loves?”

“Vikki, stop it! I thought we understood each other better than that. Have I ever put you down, or said I thought less of you due to your situation? Have any of us? I’m just trying to help you the best way I know how. If you talk about what your past was like then it can ease the burden. At least, that’s what I’ve learned. You could have easily given in and died in that nasty trailer, but you didn’t. You’re alive because you’re strong. You’re not poor or pitiful,” I argued.

Vikki abruptly sat down on the bed. She held her head in her hands as she answered, “I’m sorry. I lashed out at you because I’m scared. The last time I went out on my own, I screwed up by trusting the wrong person. That’s how I ended up in this mess.”

“Why were you alone?” I urged her on.

“I have no one. I don’t even know who my parents are. I’ve spent my whole life in foster care, passed around from place to place. I never bonded with any family. When I turned eighteen, I was tossed out of the system with just some clothes and a teddy bear I’d stolen. I did a lousy job of fending for myself on the streets, so when a handsome rich man offered me something special, I jumped on it. He locked me up and raped me. After using me repeatedly, he sold me. That’s how I ended up with the traffickers. He’s the baby’s father. There’s nothing else to tell,” she said in a kind of daze.

Shit.“That’s awful, even worse than I’d imagined, but it’s not your fault. Nobody taught you how to care for yourself even though the government paid them to do better. It’s a damnshame the system sucks. But I have to ask, do you have reason to believe you can take care of yourself now? Do you have skills to get a job?” I asked.

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