Page 35 of Fight or Flight

But Nora only nods slowly before following me into the kitchen.

If the situation were any different, I would blush at the state I find the area in, but Nora doesn’t seem to mind as she moves the empty takeout boxes from the chair and sits down before looking at me expectantly.

I turn on our rusty oven and set it to the right temperature before I fish out a frozen pizza from the fridge. The adrenaline that was cursing through me just a minute ago started to wear off, and I felt lightheaded and on the verge of tears.

My mind starts racing as I stare at the tiny timer above the oven.

What happened to Nora’s parents, and why was she tied and hidden in the back room of the goddamn strip club? I know Sergio isn’t an outstanding citizen waiting to do charity work in Chicago. But to kidnap a little girl?

I feel sick, knowing that I’ve been working for them for close to three years now, oblivious to what may be happening behind closed doors. What if I’ve been happily getting high and pouring drinks just as some other little girl was being locked there?

The timer dings, making me jump, and I grab the mitten to retrieve the steaming pizza with shaking arms. I cut it into triangles and place it in front of Nora.

I’m worried she’ll burn her mouth when she grabs the first piece and bites into it eagerly, but she doesn’t seem to care. The next piece is gone before I can even voice my worry about her getting sick from eating too much. There goes my hope about her only being captured for a few hours. She looks like it's been days since she last ate. The poor child is starving.

When she’s on her third piece, her movements slow, and I chose this moment to question her a bit.

“Nora, where are your parents?” I sit opposite her slowly and wait for an answer.

Sadness pulls at her face for a fraction of a second before it’s gone, and then she replies in a monotone voice, “Dead.”

“Both of them?” I need to clarify, and she nods without meeting my gaze.

“How old are you?” Is my next question.

“Nine,” she responds and reaches for the glass of water I placed in front of her before.

“Why were you at the club?” I’m scared to get the answer, but I need to know what happened. I have to know just how messed up the situation I got myself into is.

“They took me,” she says, barely audible, and drops the uneaten pizza onto the plate, looking ashen.

“Took you from where?” I lean toward her and hesitantly reach my hand toward her, careful not to spook her. When she doesn’t answer, I press, “I’m sorry if this is painful, Nora. But I need to know. So I can help you.”

“They came to the house and screamed at my dad. Then they started to look for money. They destroyed everything, even my dollhouse. The man smashed it to pieces, and I started to cry. My mommy told me to be quiet, but I couldn’t stop... The black devil told the big men to take me instead of the money. I didn’t want to go... My dad was screaming, and then...”

Tears spill down from Nora’s eyes, a look of absolute devastation taking over her innocent face, and she shuts her mouth tight. I slump in my seat, feeling drained and knowing this is so out of my depth.

I’ll be taking Nora to the closest police station in the morning as soon as I’m packed and ready to leave. I know I’m done here in Chicago; the moment I go to the police and point fingers at the Ramirez brothers, it will be the same as signing my own death sentence. I know in my heart that they will hunt me for it until they put me down.

I’ve watched many movies and heard many stories. I know what happens to the snitches.

I excuse myself from the room, leaving Nora alone like a coward, and step into my room, where I throw the gun on the mattress and retrieve one of the zip lock bags from my pocket. Making a beeline to the small bedside table, I sprinkle the surface with the white stuff and make untidy thick lines with my finger before I breathe them into my system.

Right away, I sense it’s not cocaine. The feeling is also euphoric, but something is off. My heart starts racing more than usual, and I have to squish the oncoming panic attack when the thought that I could be poisoned hits me.

When nothing of that sort happens within the next minute, I relax slightly, but the overwhelming feeling of paranoia doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.

“Is this your room?” A small voice behind me calls, and I almost jump out of my skin.

“Hey! Nora!” I exclaim way too loudly, and the girl takes a frightened step back. “I’m, uh, I’m not feeling so swell right now. What’ya think ‘bout getting some sleep?” I hear myself slurring my words more and more, but it’s like I can’t make my tongue to cooperate as I speak.

My thoughts seem clear, the whole world in focus, but somehow, my body didn’t get the memo that I’m feeling so good and bright right now.

“You can take my bed while I pack and wait for my friend Christy to come back. I need to speak with her before we can go.”

Nora eyes me like I’ve grown two heads but nods before taking a seat on my unmade bed. I can tell she’s tired but tries to stay alert—poor kid.

I exit the room, trying to appear normal, but I know my moves are jittery at best. What the fuck is this shit? A rat poison?

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