The Way Out

**SENSITIVE CONTENT: themes of trafficking, incest, drug usage/dealing, and prostitution**

She woke to the sound of her boyfriend’s phone going off. Next to her in bed, he’s slumped over the side, wearing a pair of boxers with a hole in the left cheek and a cigarette still hanging out of his mouth. She takes a breath before getting up, suddenly thankful to be alive, and then her mind wanders to what she hid in the bottom of the bathroom garbage can. Reality sets in and she knows she’s got to get going before he’s up. The resentment for him and their life together billows in her body before she heads out for the day

When she arrives at work, she’s already got two tables. The host here dislikes her enough to seat her sections before she’s even clocked in, ensuring her tips are shorted before she introduces herself to the table.

She approaches the first table she notices. There sits an older man who walks with a cane, a middle aged red headed woman, and a young brunette. The older man orders a Jack and Coke with his hands clasped tightly on the table in front of him. He doesn’t look up at the waitress while he orders. Instead, his eyes are trained on the young brunette at the table across from him. The redhead orders a Dr. Pepper, eyeing the hollow girl taking their order the entire time she’s standing next to the table, and the young girl says she’ll stick with water. As the waitress leaves the table, she hears the old man say “If you want out of this, you just need to let me know.” She notices her own body bristling at the sound of that, but she doesn’t have context and it isn’t her business, so she carries on with visiting her other table and retrieving drinks for both tables.

By the time she gets back to the server stand and turns back around to face the restaurant, she notices the redheaded woman’s hand in the air and a scowl on her face. Before fully arriving at the table, the older man says loudly enough for her to hear, “I’m surrounded by women who can’t service a man properly,” and she thinks about the wording–’service a man properly.’ Before she can form her own thoughts, the old man continues on to say “I think you all ought to be taught the way Anne Boleyn was.” Filing that name away in her mind as something to look up later, she goes on asking if the table is ready to order.

The brunette attempts to speak first. “I’d love a burger, well done–” but was cut off by the old man, whose eyes had yet to leave the young girl and were only growing with intensity. “You don’t ever order your burgers well done.” The brunette glances at the hollow girl quickly, as she shifts in her seat and continues. “I’d also like fries and a side of ranch, please.” The brunette looks nervous–sad, maybe–and only makes eye contact for a split second. The hollow girl feels an all too familiar pang in the pit of her stomach. She knows that look, and she knows it isn’t natural or without good reason. She reminds herself it’s not her business, as she adjusts her attention to the couple sitting on the other side of the table. The old man blurts out, “Something dead and bloody is what I want on my plate,” his eyes still not breaking from the young girl. He can sense the waitress is unsure how to proceed, so he directs his angry stare at the hollow girl just long enough to snap, “Just fucking surprise me,” and then his attention is right back to the brunette. The waitress taps her pen on the side of her notebook as the redhead begins, “I’ll just have your wedge salad with chicken, if you can manage.” Once again, she stared down the hollow girl the entire time she stood next to the table, noticing the track marks on the girl’s arms. The girl pulls at her sleeves when she notices this is why the redhead is unrelenting with her gaze.

Once the meal arrives, the old man lights into the brunette right away. “I raised you to eat meat the way God intended, and you’ve never once defied me or God.” The young brunette starts to cry, completely overwhelmed by the secret she is holding and the pressure her step dad is putting on her. “I’m pregnant. There, I said it? Is that what you wanted? The truth?” The redhead wiped her mouth roughly with her napkin and then threw it down on the table. “Now what are you going on about now,” but the brunette was too distraught to repeat herself. The redhead looks at the brunette, then at the old man, then back at the young woman. “You little slut. I can’t fucking believe you. You’re sleeping with MY husband?” The old man, whose face was red with anger after the brunette shared her secret loud enough for every patron in that restaurant to hear, is now sitting in the booth with an amused smile stretching across his whole face. The brunette suddenly stops crying, shooting daggers at her mother across the table, and blurts “You think I want your old, alcoholic husband? You think I wanted him to get me pregnant… with my, my… sister/daughter? You think I want to sleep with his friends? You think there’s any amount of money in the world that would make that okay?”

The redhead is now sitting at the table with her hands in her lap, appearing to be taking in what she’s hearing and simultaneously finding acceptance for this new reality. In a resigned tone, “What are you going to do with the baby?” The brunette begins to answer when the old man interjects “Well, she sure as hell isn’t going to keep it. I’ll ensure that. Too much at stake.”

“The only thing at stake here is you and your friends going to prison for raping and torturing me, and I don’t much care about that. This baby deserves to live. She’s going to live, and I’m going to be her mommy.” With a grin oozing pride and excitement, the old man asks “She?” The redhead snaps out of the internal place within herself where she was finding acceptance for what she’s hearing and abruptly leaves the table. She can’t bear the thought of sharing her husband with not only her daughter but also with her granddaughter.

Serious now and contempt covering his face, the old man says “You and this baby will both be dead by the end of the week if what you’re saying is true.” And then he, too, abruptly leaves the table, leaving the young brunette at the table herself, with more attention from other patrons than she’d noticed before.

The hollow girl overheard the whole exchange, like much of the restaurant, and she also sees the couple exiting. Nearly knocking over the host as she picks up speed, she approaches the older man, helping him out the door and down the front steps. For the first time all evening, the old man notices the girl. She smiles at the man as he catches her eye, trying to find the right way to propose what she’s thinking. Without a word, the old man seems to recognize this girl’s search for words and offers his own. “You want to be my new little miss, sharing your flower with me and whoever else is in need, huh?” The girl, now with a coy smile, once again tries to find the words she’s looking for, but she instead chooses to cut right to the chase, asking “Does it pay?”

As she asks the question, her phone begins to ring loudly. It’s her boyfriend. Or her pimp, drug dealer? She’s unsure what to call the man she shares a bed with because how he regards her depends on how much money he’s got in his pocket and whether or not he owes someone money. Interested more in the prospect of getting away from him and making money quickly, as she hopes she could, she ends the call before answering. Her phone continues to ring and she continues to deny the calls until the old man blurts out, “Sounds like you already belong to someone else.”

Knowing ignoring those calls without securing a spot in whatever ring this old man is running will end with her being badly beaten, if not killed, she tries again with the old man, now pleading with all the honesty she can muster. “Sir, you don’t understand. The man who is calling me brought a bag home a few nights ago. He said he was holding it for someone else, but I couldn’t resist a taste. After he went to bed, I took some and then some more. When I woke in the morning, I realized I’d taken most of the bag, so I had no choice but to hide the empty bag. I didn’t tell him any of this, but he must’ve figured it out. I need the money bad. I need to repay him or he’ll kill me. Please, Sir, I’ll do anything. Anything, Sir. Please. I promise I’ll do whatever you ask. I’ll keep you and your friends happy, unlike that selfish brunette. And, Sir, it sounds like she’s out now anyways, and you’ll need another.” Now standing closely to the man, stroking his arm, she says, “Please, Sir, let me service you in a way you’ve never been serviced before. There’s nothing more I want than to earn my keep and keep you happy. I won’t let you down, Sir. Please. I really need this. Please.”

Equal parts revolted and thrilled, the old man pulls the hollow girl to him and whispers aggressively in her ear, “If I agree to make you my flower, you’ll do things you never thought you’d do. Going against me will result in certain punishment. Going against what my clients want will result in harsher punishment. You will learn quickly who you belong to, you wouldn’t dream of not answering my calls or not coming home at night, or you’ll find yourself missing fingers… or your tongue. And you will stay off drugs and away from whoever is calling you.” The girl stands rigid, trying to wriggle away a bit, but the old man holds on and switches to a sweeter tone, “You will also leave with me now to begin your training. That’s the only way I’ll believe you’re serious–if you come with me and begin your new life now. I will take care of you and never hurt you, so long as you never disobey me.”

Just like that, the young brunette was now free and the hollow girl was deeper than she could know for a long time to come. Both getting exactly what they needed at this time in their lives, though in contrasting ways. Both with gravely different lives than the ones they’d led before walking into that restaurant earlier that day.