Exhaustion had taken hold of Maggie. Her muscles felt heavy, and her senses were dulled—exactly the results Rock desired. With heavy eyelids, she stared at the wall, looking at nothing. Finally, she found the strength to speak. “Please help me. I don’t want to hurt anymore,” she mumbled.
“Ain’t nobody that can help you, but you.” There was a short pause, “She’s cleaned up!” Trinity screamed.
The sound of the door being thrown open made Maggie jump. Armando approached her. “Here’s the deal. You’ll work for Rock, and you’ll do everything that’s expected of you. I don’t wanna hear no whining or complainin’, or you’ll find yourself in a shitload of trouble,” he said. “Stand up and show me what you got.”
Maggie got off the bed and stood. She swayed back and forth, trying her best to keep her balance. She squinted in an effort to make eye contact with Armando. “How’s Seth? Is he doing OK? Can I visit him?”
“You just ain’t had enough, huh? You’re not getting it. You don’t get to ask for things, girl, you give things. Things that men want. You understand?” he pressed.
Maggie lost her footing and landed hard on the floor. Armando lifted her up and threw her on the bed. “Go get the others,” he told Trinity coldly.
A few minutes later, there were several men in the bedroom. Each took his turn with her. When it was over, Armando hoisted her up by her shoulders. “Listen here. You Rock’s bitch now. If anyone asks, you are eighteen years old. Even if the police ask, you’re still eighteen years old.”
“Nobody will believe me. I’m only fourteen,” she managed to say.
“Damn girl, what ain’t you getting?” Armando asked angrily. “Put this stupid ass back in the box,” he instructed to one of the other men.
Maggie pleaded and begged for forgiveness as she was hauled over to the closet. She dropped into the bottom of the box like a brick. Quickly the door was closed, and the deadbolt was thrown. Disoriented and in pain, Maggie slumped against the rough wood. She began to hum the tune of “Itsy Bitsy Spider.” She didn’t know why, but it made her feel better. After that, her imprisonment went on for over two more weeks. She came out once a day for the three rituals. She was told over and again that she was eighteen years old, and if she ever told anyone who she really was, they would kill her and Seth.
“We know where your parents live, too,” Armando lied. “Don’t think we won’t torture and kill them if you ever tell anyone who you are.”
At the end of the third week, the small door opened, and Maggie started to cry. A bright flashlight was aimed at her face, and she recoiled from the painful beam of light. “How you doin’, baby?” a man cooed. “Don’t worry; I’m gonna help ya now.”
Maggie was too distressed, and tired, to be relieved. She hoped that by “helping her,” the man meant he would shoot her in the head.
“Come on, baby. Give me your hands,” the man said softly.
With great effort, Maggie raised her hands into the air. The man pulled her out and gently laid her on the mattress. He bent and picked up a ratty blanket from the floor and covered her with it. Then he sat on the side of the bed and stroked her hair.
“Trinity,” he said in a calm voice. “Bring me a glass of water for our Maggie.”
He held the glass as Maggie took small sips of water. Maggie grimaced when she tried to open her eyes for the first time; the light was too painful to handle. Finally, with much effort, she opened her eyes. There, sitting next to her, was Rock.
She flinched.
Rock leaned closer to her. “No, baby, it’s OK. Rock is here to take care of you now,” he assured her.
Rock instructed Trinity to fill the bathtub with warm water. Then he gingerly carried Maggie into the bathroom and placed her in the tub. The heat of the water began to soften her stiffened muscles. Rock massaged her arms and legs. She let herself relax with his powerful, gentle hands rubbing away weeks of being cramped at the bottom of the box.
“Go make somethin’ nice for Maggie to eat,” he told Trinity.
As he rubbed Maggie’s neck, he looked into her face. Her eyes smoldered with intensity. Rock was the first person in three weeks to show Maggie any compassion, and this tactic made her love him. Maggie felt her belly flutter as she watched him intently. She opened her arms, and he leaned over and hugged her close to him. “That’s it, baby. Rock is here to take care of you now. Do you know how old you are?”
“I’m eighteen,” she answered, wanting to please him.
“How did you get here?” he continued.
“I came here on my own. I love it here,” she recited.
“Where do you live, baby?” he asked in a sultry voice.
“With my boyfriend,” she said affectionately.
“Who is that, baby? Who is your boyfriend?” he sang.
“Armando is my boyfriend,” she said with a pang of guilt, as if she was betraying Rock.
Rock saw that all-too-familiar look. “That’s right, baby. But, me, I’m the one you really love,” he said sweetly.
“Yes,” Maggie agreed.
Rock was proud to have wrecked another girl, especially one as gorgeous as Maggie was. He was delighted to think of all the money she would make for him. But Rock wasn’t aware of Maggie’s ability to persevere through the most hideous circumstances.