Chapter 35

I could have panicked. An underage girl I barely knew and had accepted responsibility for had just left for parts unknown, and I had only one clue where she might have gone. Her mother lay unconscious in my guestroom, beaten senseless by my lover. The unconscious mother would have to be tended by the daughter of the woman who had just brutalized her. What, me worry?

After checking on Nicole, I went up to Janey's room. She was already getting dressed, her eyes still puffy and swollen from crying, but her face set and determined.

"Janey?"

"Be ready in a minute. Where do you think she went?"

"How'd you know she was gone? Oh, I see. Gee, you're getting pretty good with your link thing, aren't you."

"Yes, and you should be better than me, Dad. I mean, I can sense stronger than Mom, but she's real sneaky sometimes about what she knows, so I can't always tell. Simone and I can hook up pretty good, but she's way different than I am. Like, the last time we did each other, she was doing things to me I didn't think anyone but you could do. I made her stop, you know, it was too much. She's like you that way in that she can tell what turns me on, but still, she's no match for what you can do."

"What do you mean?"

She turned to me, exasperated but patient, like with a slow-witted child. "Dad. Stop thinking. Feel. Reach out. God! You can do it when you don't think about, you know? I felt what you did to Mom downstairs."

I must have looked surprised.

Janey explained, "Don't you know what you did? You were shouting how much you loved her, how this was all your fault, how you would try to make things right, but to please STOP! I mean, you weren't making words with your mouth or anything, you were like shouting in your mind, or something. It was really clear. You were really scared, not just for Nicole, but for Mom, too. That sort of made me feel good. Then I got really, really cold. Stop thinking of pictures, will you? I mean, it works sometimes, but Geez, an iceberg? Be a little easier on us weaklings, why don't you."

"You got all that, all the way up here?"

"Clear as a bell, Dad. Just stop thinking. Feel. Can you feel Mom now? Can you tell what she's feeling?"

I stopped and felt. I reached out for Sally. I found her, waiting for me. A lump formed in my throat. Shit. And I thought I felt bad. I sent her my love.

"Don't worry. She'll get over it. She knows you love her. That's all she needs to know right now. She also knows she really screwed up, too. And that you will fix it. She trusts you. She loves you. I trust you, too."

She finished tying her shoes. "Where do we start looking for Simone?"

I was taken aback for a minute. "Uh, would you mind holding down the fort here? I kind of need you to look after Nicole. She's unconscious right now, but nothing's broken, I hope. But when she comes to, I need you to make sure she's OK. If she's not, call the hospital and get her there.

"Your mother stays in the basement until I come back home with Simone, or until I give up. That could be a long time. Tough. Let her out of the stocks one hour a day for a shower and exercise. You can change her bondage if you think the stocks are too much for her. I don't know how long I will be gone, so use your judgement. I do not want to injure her.

"You may give her updates on Nicole's progress and anything I tell you to relay to her on the telephone. Otherwise silence. No chit chat, no making her feel better. You'll need to feed her at least one meal while she's in restraints. She cleans up her own messes on her free hour. It will stink down there, so be prepared for it."

Janey nodded, agreeing with everything I said, even the tough parts.

"You're in charge, kiddo. I trust you, too. Remind Nicole about the Free Room rules and that she can stay there as long as she wants. That's where I put her. Oh, the guns are put away, so you won't need to worry about her getting a hold of one. Other than that, be sure to sleep when you can, even if it's during the day. You're going to need it. I'll call when I can."

She rushed into my arms. "Thanks, Dad, for taking charge. I'm glad you're letting me do something."

I held her away from me. "You're not disappointed you're not going with me to look for Simone?"

"That's your job. Besides, if you had to worry about me, I'd just mess up your sensing thing. You have enough trouble with it, as it is." Always the critic. At least she was smiling when she said that.

"Good. I'm off then." With that, I turned and left the house, knowing Janey would take charge. Just like Sally would, if she could.

I called Amud on his cell phone from my car as I headed for the Interstate.

"Amud, I'm sorry to disturb you, but Simone left the house with you this afternoon."

"My friend, as lovely as the child is, I did not kidnap her, I swear."

"Amud, again I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply you had anything to do with it. I didn't make myself clear. She left the house riding on your car. On the back bumper. She has run away."

"Oh, dear!"

"Yes. I need to know the first stop you made after you left the house that she could have gotten off. Probably in a city or large town."

He thought a minute. "Oh, yes. We stopped in at a leather warehouse over near the new stadium. From there we are now heading home."

"Thank yo...."

"Lawrence? Lawrence? Hello? Here is Bala. The girl, the new one, she is missing, no?" From the blustering in the background, I could tell Amud was not happy that his little wife had snatched the cell phone from him. I smiled, in spite of the circumstances. He would enjoy reminding her of his mastery over her. I knew she would enjoy it also.

"Yes, Bala. I have to find her."

"Use the lights, Lawrence. Don't think, just use lights. You great master, use it. Find the precious one." She then got all soft, unlike the Bala I knew. "I like her. Please. She is very special."

"I know. I like her, too, Bala. Goodbye, and thank you." I rung off, slightly puzzled by their comments.

You know, it was beginning to irritate me. With all advice I had been getting lately to quit thinking, I was beginning to think..., well there I went again, thinking. Anyway, perhaps people were trying to tell me I did too much of it, or maybe that I didn't do it well. I wasn't sure. I decided not to think about it.

I had a haystack, a place to start. All I needed to do now was find the needle. Piece of cake. Yeah, right.

The warehouse Amud mentioned was in an industrial area, busy on the weekdays, but almost deserted at night and weekends. I could hear the ruckus from the tail end of a Heavy Metal band concert in the stadium a couple of blocks over. This being a Friday evening, I figured Simone got here just when the streets were empty, the workers gone home, the concert in full swing. A pretty young girl, alone, would stick out like a sore thumb on these naked streets.

I sat in my car, at a loss for what to do next. I had driven to the spot Amud had stopped. I parked in a No-Parking zone across from the local police precinct. Even it was deserted at this time of the week, manned by just a skeleton crew of rookies. It had been too much to hope that Simone would be standing there waiting for me. I know it was naïve of me, but I had hoped, just a little.

I closed my eyes in quiet frustration and lay my head against the steering wheel of the car. I may have cried for her, I don't know. I guess I really had wanted her to be there, tears on her face, cold from the long ride on the bumper, frightened of the strange darkness, a big van, a friendly face, old kind of, kind of cinnamon smell, candy, a warm car, warm blanket, warm up, feels good, food, voices, laugh, a funny laugh, money through the window, a door opening suddenly, a bad man, fear, scared, ...

I woke up with a start. What the Hell was that? I looked at my watch. No. I hadn't been asleep. Simone! I knew I was sensing Simone, seeing what Simone was sensing. Somewhere near, close, but going away now. Then just blank, like she was drugged. I had felt the needle jab into her leg. I could sense her drift away, then it was still, not any feelings from her at all.

I found myself out of my car. I could sense better outside in the open. I couldn't get a bearing on a direction with this sensing thing and it frustrated the shit out of me. I just wandered the streets, hoping to sense when it was stronger, when she was closer. She was so close...

I wandered the streets looking for her, half running, stumbling, walking. Looking for her senses. Just a trace, anything. I found that the harder I tried, the fainter she got. I lost all sense of time and of myself. I immersed myself into her aura, and just kept wandering, apparently aimlessly.

It happened so suddenly. I distinctly felt it when she woke up, the pain, the slaps across our cheeks, a kick in the ribs, one broke. I hurt, she hurt. Too far away, now, she was going away again. Another needle, another sleepless dream, floating. I followed that dream, walking blindly through streets.

Then the men started coming. I could see them, what they were doing to her, to us. We were ashamed, please, no more, not again. The sense from Simone started to fade, but wasn't moving away anymore. She was going into hiding, into her shell. It was her only defense, her last hope. I sent her a message, but I didn't know if she got it. I was coming. Hold on. Then it was just like static on an open radio signal.

I kept wandering, trying to find her. The streets were empty through Saturday and Sunday. Monday I had to dodge traffic as I stumbled along the sidewalks. I don't remember if I slept or not. I do remember I stopped looking at people as people. I started looking at them as lights. I wasn't surprised to find most people were pretty dim, if they had any light at all.

Tuesday came and went and I was getting desperate. Just before I collapsed in a doorway, I heard it.

"Help me. Please."

Simone! She was close! I looked around and saw her light. There were no windows in that abandoned building, but I saw her lights. Dimming, but there. I knew it was her.

I found my way into the building and damn near fell down the dilapidated steps into the cellar. It stunk of fresh urine and shit. I began a frantic search for her in the dark cavernous spaces. The lights from her had gone back out. There was only static again.

I found her. She was naked, bruised and barely conscious. They had used a staple gun to fasten clumps of her hair to a wooden post. She was hanging by her hair in a position where she couldn't stand upright or sit or kneel. The muscles of her thin legs had supported her as long as they could in the awkward position, but they had given out days ago. The floor around her was in places several inches deep in feces and pools of urine. It couldn't have been all hers.

The two men surprised me as I was vomiting. Given their poor fighting skills, my retching wasn't much of a disadvantage. I disabled the big one first. He was obviously the bodyguard. The asshole was trying to pull an Uzi out from under his jacket, if you can imagine that. The clip or barrel or something got caught on his belt, but by that time, it didn't matter. His knee when one way, he went the other, shit splashing everywhere as he landed hard. He dropped his Uzi when he grabbed for his knee. I kicked him in the head for insurance, then kicked the gun into a far corner.

The smaller man, a pimp by his dress, was smarter. I could tell because he had chosen a more appropriate weapon. He had his knife out and was trying to appear as if he was ready for me. I like fighting idiots with knives. Mainly because most fighters don't know how to use them and it makes the motherfuckers overconfident. They always get a big one like Rambo or that crocodile guy and the weight tends to throw them off balance. Then they fucking hold them upside down, like I'm going to be stupid enough to step inside his down-swinging arm. This pimp with the yellow hat had really overcompensated for his inadequacies with the monster blade he was holding. I left him writhing on the floor, the knife buried to the hilt in his thigh, right where he had it aimed. The knife had driven clear through his leg with the tip stuck firmly into the wooden floor. I knew he wasn't going anywhere for a while.

I was trying to get Simone free when the third guy jumped me. He would have had me clean, too, but he slipped in the shit trying not to get too close. A little schmutz, and I would have been dead. As it was, he still got my arm good with the deadly little knife he was using. I think he thought he had me, now that I was wounded, but he was wrong. He made the fatal mistake of letting me get too close to him. Once I'm in close, well, he died surprised. As I pushed his lifeless body off me, I gave a start of recognition. It took me a moment, but I finally placed him. He had been in some of the pictures Gary had taken of Sally during her humiliation.

I managed to free Simone using the knife I pulled out of my forearm. I simply cut her hair free from the staples and picked her up. They had not tied her arms and she latched on to my neck with what seemed to be all her feeble strength. I thought I felt her sob once, but wasn't sure. Sensing the urgency of flight, I kept trying to find my way to the stairs but my head wouldn't seem to work. Every time I tried to look for the door out of the room, my nose kept turning back to the same dark corner. I would take a step to turn, and my head would swing like a compass needle pointing north. Same damn corner, every time.

I finally realized Simone was yanking on my ear, forcing me to look at that particular corner. Understand, I was brain-dead, tired, stabbed and trying to escape, my survival instincts in complete command. My mission was over. I had Simone. It was Miller time. I was like a horse headed for the barn, ASAP. I did not want to look in that stinking corner.

She was insistent, and my ear was starting to hurt. I went over to the fucking corner. Nothing. I started to turn away. My ear just about got torn off.

"What the fucking hell do you want!" I yelled at her in my mind.

"Please. Hidden. Shiny. Silver. Important," came the faint reply over our link. It wasn't exactly words but images. I didn't really understand.

I shuffled around in the debris piled in the corner until my foot kicked into an aluminum case. It was heavy, and now my fucking foot hurt, too. I picked it up with my good hand. Simone grasped my neck tighter, easing the work I had to do with my injured arm. Where she got the strength I don't know.

My ear released from her grip, I found an exit. On the way out and up the stairs, I stumbled. I tripped over a lit kerosene lamp one of the men had left on the stairway. It fell to the basement floor and broke open. The old newspapers that cluttered the floor caught fire easily. The old dry timbers of the crumbling warehouse exploded into flames, engulfing the three bodies in the cellar.

I heard screams as I walked away, carrying Simone. It didn't bother me at all.

As I cleared the killing zone, as I thought of it, I had to stop and think where I was. I realized I was many miles from my car. I was in the middle of an area I didn't recognize right away. I couldn't see the stadium. I couldn't see any landmarks or familiar buildings at all until I got to the next large intersection. God! I was two towns over from where I had parked.

It was night, there were no buses running in this part of town. No taxis were going to stop for me, not with the way I looked after four days of wandering around, bleeding from a big gash in my arm and carrying an unconscious naked stinky little girl. I headed for the one safe house I knew in this town.

Mac didn't recognize me at first when he opened his door. I just hoped he would take over now. I collapsed in his doorway.

Chapter 36

I woke up in a hospital. I knew that before I opened my eyes. I could smell the familiar antiseptic odors. My arm felt stiff and sore. I could feel the bandaging they had used on the stab wound. Oh well, another battle scar.

I kept my eyes closed and tried to link to Simone. I was startled to find her so close. She was in the bed next the chair I was sitting in. Sensing she was safe, I drifted off to sleep again.

When I woke up again, it was dark. Simone was still asleep, resting easy. I had been having some very weird dreams. When I noticed she was holding my finger, much like Janey had done when I had sat by her bed, I suspected Simone and I had been communicating over a similar link between us. I seemed to know her better now. She was, indeed, a special person.

The dream had seemed so real, interactive. I had been on a beach, and thousands, millions of others were there, too. The fine white sand seemed to stretch for eternity in both directions. When I looked down, I couldn't focus on the sand around me, but it seemed so real I could feel it between my toes. Most of the people along the beach were building sandcastles. Some castles were bigger than others were, as those people had others helping them. Some others were struggling by themselves to build one that could stand against the relentless waves.

Some people along the beach were raging at the sea, kicking at the water, trying futilely to keep the waves from their sandcastles. As I watched, the waves would come and wash away their castles or the castles of the people near them. They were trying to stop the waves. The waves would strike at random. You could never tell when the waves would come, who would have to start over, who would be wiped out, or whose castle would be touched. Some sandcastles were barely touched by the waves, some the waves wiped out. Wherever the water touched a sandcastle there was sadness.

Sometimes the people would stop building and just wander out into the waves, to become a part of the vastness. Most of us just kept building our castles. Like I was doing.

I had a bucket in my hand full of sand. When I examined the sand in the bucket carefully, though, I saw the grains were made up of the faces of Simone and Nicole. When I looked at my sandcastle, I and I saw that the sand there, too, was made up of faces, faces I knew. I saw my parents, my sister, Sally and Janey. Mac was there, as were others, some alive, some long dead. I put the new bucket onto my castle and Nicole's and Simone's faces became part of the whole.

Looking up, I saw Simone was there on the beach beside me. The remains of two small ruined sandcastles were visible beside her as she bravely attempted to build yet another around the face of her mother. I saw in her sand the face of an elderly gentleman that I knew was the man she called Papa. The other man in the ruins was younger. It looked as if she had kicked that pile over herself, her tiny footprints visible in the white sand, long deep scars where she had tried to kick the face of that evil man away form her. But that sand, that face, was still a part of her castle, a part of her.

Simone wasn't raging at the waves as were many others in less tragic conditions. The waves had touched her as it had them, yet she persevered. I could also see she was being very careful now, selecting the material for her castle with greater care. She stood holding an empty bucket, another was off to one side. Janey's face was in her castle now, the new sand still bright and shiny. I could see my face in the bucket she had set aside. She was scared to mix it in with her mother's sand. Unsure.

Suddenly, in my dream, I was telling a story, teaching a history class. When I would turn to look at the students, they would all have the same face, the face of Simone. All of them asked different questions, throwing them at me faster than I could answer as if time was running out. I tried to answer as many as I could, but some of them I knew I wasn't allowed to answer, secrets from my past I could not share. Some of the questions were easy. Some were hard. Others I didn't know the answers to. The bell rang and the questions stopped.

We were back on the beach. Simone was turning to me smiling. Both buckets were empty. My face was in her castle. I waved my hands and a space opened in the walls of my own castle. When I looked around I could see that Sally had her castle right next to mine, each adding support to the other. Janey's was there, too, as was Nicole's. I invited Simone to place her own castle within the protection of mine, of my family's. I could tell she wanted to, but she was hesitant, afraid. It was not a feeling she was used to.

We were in the delicate and difficult process of moving her sandcastle closer to mine when I woke up.

I tried to sit up. A pair of strong hands was there immediately to help me.

"I called your house. Janey answered. She said to tell you someone named 'Bala' came over to help out. Said you would want to know everything is OK and that Sally is still in the basement, whatever that means. Nicole, whoever she is, is awake and responsive and didn't need to go the hospital. Now that you know everything is OK, Lar, you want to tell me just what the fuck's going on? Who are all those people?"

I relaxed as I heard the rapid-fire reassurances from my friend. All the little things I hadn't been able to think of, he had. Damn, it was good to hear his voice.

I smiled. "Mac! You should really watch your language around impressionable young kids, you know?" Mac had grown up on the streets in a very rough neighborhood. Ever since high school I had ribbed him about his rough language, helping him smooth out some rough edges. In return, he taught me to fight dirty and about the hard facts of life in the real world. We both learned and improved, better individuals for our friendship.

He punched my arm, the good one. "Damn you, Lar, I've been stuck in here for three days waiting for you to wake up and tell them I had nothing to do with this. Whatever this is. What is this, anyway, and who the Hell are you and what have you done with my friend Larry Sampson?"

"Oh, God, Mac, where do I start..."

"He can't tell you."

The two of us turned our heads as one to look at the clear, sweet voice coming from the bed. Simone was awake.

She repeated, "He can't tell you. He has integrity." She said that last word as if it were the most important thing in the world that a man could have. She may be right.

"Damn, Lar, who is the beautiful woman who uses big words with such a lovely accent?"

"Excuse my manners. Mac, this is Simone. Simone, Mac."

He stuck out his hand, "Hi, Simone." His trademark grin that had won him more than one fair maiden lit up his face.

"Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Mac." She said his name with her delightful accent, and giggled at his response to her. I had seen Mac in many situations, but I had never seen him this flustered. I swear, he even blushed.

"I can get her to explain any big words you don't understand, OK, lughead?"

"Fuck you!"

"Monsieur Mac!" That reprimand came from her, followed by another laugh. I had never observed that particular behavior they called coquettish before, but it was truly amazing to see this teenaged girl keep Mac tongue-tied and off balance.

After several minutes of valiantly waging a losing battle, he turned to me for rescue. "Help me out here, please! So help me God, I want to take her home with me. But if you dare tell CeCe I said that, I'll make you pay for our lunches for the next 10 years."

"I'm tempted to tell you to go fuck yourself, Mac," I laughed, grinning at him. "But I don't think I could afford you for the next 10 years with your new contract." Mac had gone on a tear at the plate the last month of the season. It hadn't been enough to get the team into the play-offs, but it sure brought up the gate receipts, which is what counts. He had been expected to just be a part-time replacement for an injured player. He had far out-performed expectations. I knew he would, given the chance.

When the opposing pitchers kept getting hit, they started walking him. Trouble with that was that Mac firmly believed in scoring. Baseball to him was simple. You get on, you score. He brought an exciting sandlot quality to an aging team, invigorating the whole team in the process. If you walked him to first, he would steal the next three bases, including home plate. The fans loved it. So did management. They had just signed him to a huge contract for the next 3 seasons.

"Lawrence, is he OK?" Simone asked quietly.

I knew what she meant. Was he safe to have in her sandcastle? Would he hurt her, leaving her to trample more sand?

"Uh, 'Monsieur Mac', as you have dubbed him, is my closest and best friend. I would, and have, trusted him with my life and yours. I hope someday you will find a friend as good as he is to me. I can't tell you if he will be good for you, but I would bet he would be. That decision has to be up to you. Always."

"It is frightening, Lawrence. How can I be sure who to trust?"

"Trust your mother. Trust Sally. Trust Janey. Learn from them, watch them, see how they measure people, who they let into their lives."

"But Gary, and that other man..." she didn't finish.

"Don't hold your mother responsible for Gary, Simone. Sally fell for him, too. We all need to learn from our mistakes and the mistakes of others."

"I know." She looked up at Mac with her sparkling blue eyes, her decision made. I knew he was a goner. He was going to be a part of her sandcastle whether he liked it or not. Something told me he wouldn't mind. CeCe's opinion was another matter, but one bridge at a time.

A first for Mac, he had not interrupted this short exchange. He was puzzled at some things we were saying, others began to make sense.

"So, anybody want to tell me what you were doing on my doorstep covered in blood and shit? Can you tell me that much?"

I looked over at Simone, who nodded for me to tell him.

"Remember a couple of weeks ago, that serial killer they caught?"

He nodded, shuddering at the reminder. It was still fresh in most people's minds. Even with his tough background, some things still touched you hard.

"He was Sally's boyfriend before she kicked him out."

"You mean the one where she just about shot apart her house when she kicked him out, oh about four or five years ago?"

"You knew about that and didn't tell me?"

"Well, yeah, CeCe told me but she said Sally would tell you. I thought you knew. Honest!"

"Thanks, buddy. Thanks a lot. Anything else you want to tell me about my fiancée before I start?"

He shook his head sheepishly. I knew he hadn't meant to keep it from me. I continued the abridged version and told him the story about Sally and Gary, then of us seeing Gary, Nicole and Simone together at the symphony. I told him what I had done to set Gary up, just not the connections I used or how I had made them. He assumed they were from my financial clients. I let him.

I also glossed over exactly why Nicole and Simone were staying with us, and what led to Simone running away, just that there were some adjustment issues around the house to work out. Then I turned to Simone and asked her to tell both of us what had happened from that point, as I was curious, too.

Simone lowered her eyes and spoke to her hands, which were folded on her lap. Her voice was clear and her words concise, no fear apparent in them.

"I was so jealous of Janey. She is so beautiful and her dance was perfect. I will never be like her. She has so many friends. It is so hard for me to speak with people my own age, especially the boys. I try, but I always say the wrong things and make them feel stupid. I don't mean to. For Janey it is so easy. Everyone likes Janey.

"I was angry at her for being so perfect. I did something awful. I told one of her friends, a boy she really liked, something that made him not like her. It was a lie. She found out. It hurt her, and she cried at night for several nights. She did not hate me, though, and that made me feel so small. In fact, she tried harder, spending more time with me, helping me. I had never done anything like that before, to try to hurt someone. It made me feel so dirty inside. It shamed me.

"I know she tried so hard to make me feel welcome, but it was still her room, her home. I missed my things, too. You took us in to your home to help us, but it was not my home. Mama felt the same way, a little. Please understand, we were grateful for the help you gave to us, but it hurt our pride to need it.

"I was angry with Mama, too, for saying those ugly things about Janey. It was not the first time. Mama isn't like that, really. Please do not hate her, Lawrence, she is very frightened and alone. She needs to have a man such as you take care of her. But she kept saying bad things, worse and worse. I think she was afraid you would not want me around with Janey so perfect, so she tried to make her less perfect by saying those things about her. I warned her that Mist-, er, Sally was becoming angry with her. She didn't care.

"Then after the dance Mama said that horrible thing about Janey. My Mama is bigger and stronger than Sally, but I have never seen such a rage in a person. I wanted to stop her from hurting Mama, but I couldn't move my feet. It happened so fast, too. I could feel Sally's rage with that thing Janey showed me. The intensity of her madness terrified me and kept me from moving. I was ashamed to be so weak and useless when my Mama needed me most.

"When that nice couple left, I hid on the back of their car. I am sorry for running away, Lawrence. I did not mean to go. I did not mean to cause you so much trouble. I thought if I were not there, Mama would not have to worry about you not wanting me around. If I were not there, I would not have to live with Janey and be compared to her perfection. At least, that's what I told myself later, as we both know those are just excuses, really. In all honesty, at the time, I did not think at all, Lawrence. For once in my life that I can remember, I did not think. I just did it.

"I had gone outside to get away from the things in my head. I could still hear Mama screaming. I could sense Sally's rage. I could feel the thump of Mama's body as she was pulled down the stairs. I could feel the hairs pulling out of her head. I had to get away, as far from the pain and screaming and rage as possible. I am sorry I was so weak.

"Their car was leaving and I ran and jumped on. I didn't think. I had to do it before it got too far away and once I took that first step, I was flying. I have never felt so free before. I was doing something without planning it out. Without knowing what would happen. My heart was racing from the excitement and the wind felt wonderful on my face. Such exhilaration I have never felt before. I was free!

"The first part of the ride was like a magic carpet. I was gliding along. Then the went too fast and I got frightened. I couldn't see the exit signs because my eyes would water in the wind. The temperature dropped as it got dark and I got cold. I kept my eyes closed most of the ride so I didn't know what road I was on. I got off at the first stop of the car, but by then, I was cold and lost. I didn't know where I was. I started walking towards the lights of the big sports arena and the music, looking for a telephone or a store. A big van drove by me as I was walking along, I think maybe twice. The second time it went by then backed up. I was so cold, I was shaking.

"A nice man in the van asked me if I would like a ride. I said no. He said just get in to get warm, it was cold out tonight, and it looked like rain. He said he would just drive me around to find a telephone, then bring me back to where I was standing. I said no. He asked me if I was hungry. I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused you, Lawrence, but I was so cold and hungry. I did not eat at the dinner, I had been too excited with all the new things Bala was teaching us. The nice man pulled a big sandwich out of a bag and took a bite. I could smell it though the open window. The juices dripped down his chin and he reminded me of Papa. Just a little. It looked so good. I am sorry, but I got in.

"He started driving around. I wrapped up in a blanket in the back, as far from him as I could. It was so nice and warm. He gave me a cup of hot chocolate, to help me warm up first, he said. It tasted funny and I think he had put something in it. But it was warm and I drank it all. I felt a little funny later, but not bad. I suddenly didn't care if he didn't take me to a telephone or back to where he picked me up anymore.

"He made a phone call while we were driving around. I didn't pay any attention to where we were going. I felt like I was floating. I didn't care about anything anymore. Soon we were far away from the sports arena. He stopped the van by another car on this dark street with all these broken buildings. An ugly man in a yellow hat looked at me and made an ugly laugh. I didn't like him. He handed the nice man some money. Suddenly the door I was leaning against was yanked open. A big man ripped the blanket away from me. I felt the cold again and I screamed. He hit me. Then he stuck a needle in my leg.

"I woke up where you found me. I felt you coming, I think, but I had to hide. They..., they did bad things to me. I got thirsty, and they peed in my mouth. When I got hungry, they backed up to my face and defecated on me. The other men, they always kept coming and using me, in my mouth, in my bottom, everywhere. They paid money to the man in the yellow hat to use me.

"When you found me, they were getting ready to move me to another place. The man said someone had paid cash for me and I was going far away, where no one would find me. They had taken pictures of me first thing before I got too dirty, to show to the buyers. The yellow hat was happy with the price the new people had paid him. He called me 'prime.'"

She ended her story. Both Mac and I sat there, unmoving, shocked at what we had just heard.

"Simone," I asked her, "were there two men or three who took you the first time. When they grabbed you out of the van"

"Just two. The man with the yellow hat and the big, dumb one. He made a lot of piss. He grabbed me and leaned on me until I was still after he stuck me with the needle. I remember he carried me to the other car under his arm like a loaf of long French bread, but I couldn't feel anything. Then I don't remember."

"There were three men in the cellar. Do you know who the third man might have been?"

"When they went away and left me alone, they said they were bringing back someone to take me away. Perhaps that was him."

I hoped to God it was, and that he had been acting alone. I just wanted this nightmare to end for Simone.