Turning the Tables

Paige

A couple weeks of quiet passed. We cleared out all the women from Tom’s midday rescue that had other places to go, and the remaining few who didn’t settled into life at the Haven. I started to itch for something to do. That anger boiled in my veins nearly daily, even when women from other situations came to us. Lauren had to talk me down from facing one woman’s abuser myself when he stood outside our building for a few hours.

The week of the auction, I sat down to dinner with Tom on the patio outside.

“We’re moving on Marino on Friday,” he said.

I swallowed hard. Friday was the day of the auction. My skin crawled as I remembered waking up in the dark, cage-lined basement. I’d cried at first, something that pissed me off to remember during the rest of my captivity. But I hadn’t known how much my life was going to change then. Now, thinking about it just made me sick. I pushed my dinner a bit away.

“That’s when all the women will be there,” Tom continued.

I remembered that, too. F