I Left with the Traffickers

Dora's POV

She dragged me through the crowd, moving fast toward a remote exit behind the park.

An unmarked van was waiting outside.

She expected me to fight or cry like any other child.

She even pulled out a length of thick rope.

But I didn't resist.

I just climbed into the back on my own and took a seat in the corner.

The engine roared to life.

Through the tinted window, I watched the massive Ferris wheel shrink into the distance.

My tense body finally began to relax.

For the first time in my life, I didn't have to listen to Leo’s cries anymore.

I didn't have to drop everything to go comfort him.

I was free.

---

The van jolted along rough mountain roads for hours.

Night fell, pitch-black and silent.

Finally, we pulled up to a secluded compound enclosed by steep ridges.

Barking dogs swarmed the vehicle, their deep growls echoing in the dark.

The door slid open.

A man with a deep facial scar yanked me out. I stumbled, barely keeping my feet.

The woman shoved me from behind.

"Move it! Stop slacking!"

Flanked by both of them, I was pushed into a low concrete shed.

As the heavy door swung open, a wall of damp mold and foul stench hit me. I held my breath.

There were no lights inside.

Only a sliver of moonlight filtered through a tiny, barred window.

I felt my way along the rough wall and curled up in the darkest corner I could find.

---

As my eyes adjusted, I noticed small shapes huddled in the shadows.

Children.

Some were weeping quietly.

Panic spread quickly in the dark.

One child started sobbing, and then another joined in.

"I want my mom..."

"I want to go home..."

I buried my face in my knees, listening to the chorus of fear. I remembered making those exact same sounds once.

I couldn't remember which time it was.

Maybe the tenth or fifteenth time my parents left me behind.

We were in a crowded grocery store.

My mother was focused entirely on buying snacks for Leo. They walked too fast, turning a corner and forgetting I existed.

I wept and searched until a security guard brought me to the lost-and-found desk.

My name echoed over the intercom over and over again.

I waited for two hours. I cried until my chest hurt, then sobbed, until I had no strength left at all.

When my mother finally showed up, there was no relief or worry on her face.

Only annoyance.

She grabbed my arm hard enough to leave a mark.

"What are you crying for?! You always ruin everything! Couldn't you just stay put and wait for me?!"

I never cried after that day.

---

A small hatch on the iron door snapped open.

Something hard thudded onto the dirty floor.

"Eat up and shut the hell up!" a voice barked from outside.

The weeping quieted down.

A braver child crept forward, squinting in the dim moonlight.

"It's stale bread..."

Nobody reached for it.

"I won't eat that! It's filthy!" a boy shrieked. "I want dinner! I want my mom!"

The crying started all over again.

My stomach grumbled loudly in the dark. I hadn't eaten since morning.

My mother gave me half a glass of milk, that was what was left over from Leo's breakfast.

I crawled over to the rolls. I picked one up, brushed off the dirt, and stuffed it into my mouth without hesitation.

It was dry and choked my throat, but I chewed slowly and swallowed with effort.

A familiar feeling of fullness washed over my stomach.

It tasted better than any meal at our dinner table, where nothing was ever saved for me anyway.