Trigger Warning: Human Trafficking Explicit language
“We can’t keep living like this John!” “Well what the fuck do you want me to do?! I can’t just pull money out of my ass! Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch you’d get better tips and we wouldn’t be in this mess!” “Oh don’t give me that bullshit! You know it’s your fucking drinking!”
Mum and dad had been screaming for hours. I held Katie for dear life, covering her ears to block out the noise. Katie looked up at me, whimpering “do you think it’ll stop soon?” I tried not to cry, I didn’t like seeing my sister like this. “I don’t know Katie, I don’t know”
“John…John will you shut your mouth for one fucking second!” Mum’s voice went quieter. Katie and I looked at each other and moved towards the door to listen.
“…all we have to do is tell them where we want to meet, we take the kids there and they give us the money.” “You want to sell my kids on the fucking black market? Are you insane?” Gretel turned and looked at me with wide eyes, “what’s the black market?” “I don’t know, but I do know that I don’t want to be sold.” “You said the other night that if you got rid of them then all our problems would disappear, but now I’m giving you the chance and you’re backing out?” “That’s not what I meant.” “Bullshit you meant that with every bone in your drunken body.” “We can’t sell them okay? That’s fucked up” “Look John. All we have to do is say we’re going on a picnic or some shit and they take them off our hands. It’s not fucking hard.” “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?! I have a solution to our problems. Stop being a fucking coward for once and…” “Fine. If it will shut you up.” “Good. I’ll tell them we’ll meet them at Mt Hood. We’ll go on a little family…hiking trip.”
“Andrew,” Katie looked me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen, “what are we going to do?” I didn’t know what to tell her. This wasn’t good. She stared at me for a few moments and then she said “I know!” She ran over to the bookshelf and started searching. “Ah ha!” She pulled out a book and ran back to me. “This one! Hansel and Gretel! They left stones! That’s what we’ll do! We can use the rocks from my rock collection!” “Perfect! Let’s do it!”
“Kids! Time to wake up! We’re going on a hike!” “Yes mum.” I’d been awake for hours. So had Katie. We tried to act as excited as possible. Ran to the car. Sung songs. Being as happy as possible. Just like we planned. Dad stayed quiet the whole trip, but mum joined in. “Okay kids, we’re here!” Katie reached out and held my hand. She was just as nervous as me. “Okay if you guys just want to go and wait by the tree over there, dad and I just need to go talk to the ranger.”
It’s time. We held hands as we walked over to the tree. We were ready. Katie let out a gasp. “THE STONES! I LEFT THEM IN THE CAR! WE HAVE TO GO BACK AND GET THEM!” As she turned to get them, a man grabbed her and threw her in a van. “KATIE!” I ran in after her. As soon as I got in the door slammed shut and the van drove off.
This house smells like our house after Dad smokes the stinky stuff. As soon as we got here they locked Katie and I in a cage and told us that tomorrow someone is coming to collect us. Since then, the three men have just been playing cards and smoking and drinking like dad does with his friends.
“Read ‘em and weep boys” “Nah fuck off” “Deals a deal” “I don’t want to cook” “Come on man, I’m fucking starving. Stop being a little bitch and cook for us.” One of the men looked at us. “Oi, can one of you fuckers cook anything?” Katie’s eye’s went wide. “Mummy taught me how to cook eggs.” The man laughed and said “naw, mummy taught you how to cook eggs. He stood up from the table, walked over to us and unlocked the cage. “Well let’s see how well mummy taught you to cook eggs.” He pulled Katie out of the cage and slammed the door shut, but didn’t lock it. “Now you stay in there boy, and you…” he dragged Katie by the arm to the kitchen, “…make us some eggs.” I watched Katie get the eggs out of the fridge and walk over to the stove. “Excuse me,” she said. The man rolled his eyes, “What?!” “Can I please have a chair so I can reach the stove?” The man groaned and then picked up a chair and took it to Katie. “Thank you.” He went and sat back down. “Excuse me?” “For fuck sake kid what do you want?” “Can you please turn the stove on for me?Mummy says I’m not allowed.” “Ugh fuck me.” The man stood up and headed over to Katie who was now shaking a can of cooking spray. He turned on the stove but as soon as he did, Katie sprayed the cooking spray over the flame and straight towards the man, who’s coat caught on fire. She jumped off the chair and kicked the backs of his knees making him fall to the ground. The two other men ran over to help him. Katie ran past them “come on Andrew!” I opened the door of the cage and ran after Katie and then we ran outside and there ran and ran til we found some other people and that’s how we found you so can you please help us?
Graham Strolansky 28th of June 2023
In my thirty years as an arts and culture journalist I have seen many spectacular performances in many different places. I have sat in private boxes in the most prestigious theatres as well as on the floor of an abandoned warehouse. But I could never have possibly imagined that I would see the most powerful, captivating and thought provoking piece that I have ever seen whilst doing my weekly grocery shop. The spontaneous public performance began in the candy aisle. The performer, a young girl who would not reveal her name, began her piece quietly and calmly. Her actions easily ignored by the untrained eye, but I could tell from experience that she was about to give the performance of a lifetime. Her prop work was exceptional. Handling the bag of skittles in such a way that showed emotion and attachment without spoken word, something that even the most experienced of performers struggle to achieve. And then, the catalyst if moment. Her love. Her most prized possession. Taken away from her. The moments that ensued were breathtaking. The volume of her actions and words grew as the piece went on, symbolising the character’s emotions growing as the piece went on. Each phrase was executed with a power I had never witnessed before. I was captivated. The kicking. The screaming. Every moment perfectly reflected the anger and frustration of the character, so much so I myself began to feel their pain. The magnificent display was concluded with the returning of the skittles, conveying the message that in order to protect what you love, you must fight for it. I approached the young performer for an interview, but was escorted out by security at the request of her bodyguard. I guess genius must be protected at all costs…
Public Service Announcement
The Daily Times 29th of June 2023  The Daily Times would like to issue an apology in regards to the actions of Mr Strolansky and the publishing of yesterday’s article, ‘Powerful Performance in a Grocery Store’. We were unaware at the time of publishing that this was in fact an article written about a toddler having a meltdown and not a real artistic performance as Mr Strolansky had made it out to be. As a result of his actions, Mr Strolansky has agree to step down from his position and undergo psychological evaluation. We apologise for any distress this situation has caused.
“One more.” “Grandma it’s nearly midnight, I’m tired.” “You have to let me win at least one.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she had already started dealing. It was no use. Grandma has always been a competitive soul. Mum always says that Grandma only took it easy on her until she understood the rules. From then on, it was cutthroat. She hates when people try and teach her new games, only because she can’t win.
“You first love” A crap hand. All singles. Let’s hope the chance goes in my favour. Pick up. Discard. “Your turn”
Grandma takes a card from the deck and adds it to her hand. “You know what I love about Canasta?” I have no idea if this is about to be some mind game she has picked up over the years or a deep and meaningful story. Knowing this woman, it’s probably both. “What?” “It’s a beautiful metaphor of life” Yep. Deep and meaningful mind game. “You see, the cards you get given in the beginning might help you, but ultimately it’s the decisions you make along the way that cause you to win” She puts a seven of hearts down on the discard pile. “Your turn” I pick up a card from the deck. Ace. Not helpful what so ever. I decide to indulge in Grandma’s mind game, hopefully it means I get to go to bed soon. “But you can’t really make well informed decisions, you don’t know what the deck is going to give you along the way. “We’ll that’s life my dear.” I put down the Ace. Grandma continues her monologue. “You never know what life is going to give you, you just have to make the best decision you can make given what you have at that moment in time” As if she scripted this moment, she places down four Aces and a joker, and adds my discarded Ace to her collection, seemingly giving her the upper hand. But I know her bluff. “I guess its also applies to the people who seem to have it all figured out.” “How so?” She asks. “Well you think that someone has it all together and they are about to win because of what’s out in front of them, but the cards they are hiding in their hand might tell a different story” She smirks. “Well yes, I agree. But the opposite is also true. A person may look like they are doing poorly, but in fact they are hiding a concealed red canasta.” I laugh. “If that’s what you think is happening here, then you’re very very wrong.”
We back and forth for a while longer. Picking up, putting down, psyching each other out. Until finally, she reveals a concealed red canasta, bringing the game to an end. “Ah so who was the one who was hiding the concealed red canasta?” I tease. “Oh that, I didn’t get that to begin with. I only started with a pair of tens. But I built it up along the way. Slowly but surely. Who would of thought that the little thing I started with would become the most amazing thing in my hand? Certainly not me.” I shake my head and smile. That’s enough metaphors for one night. “Goodnight Grandma” “Goodnight dear.”
Author Note: Why was the battle of Mustafar scene from Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith the first thing that came to my mind? I don’t know. But when inspiration strikes, you run with it.
I do not recognise the eyes that look back at me They are eyes of malice Eyes of greed Hungry for power Hungry for love These are not the eyes of the boy from Tatooine
I believed in you Even when others did not Even when the council said You should not be trusted I did I always did But the man in front of me now I do not
A man of absolutes A man of delusion A god complex A man who will stop at nothing A man who has lost sight of everything Everything he has ever loved
Was this my fault? Or was this destiny? Was it the chancellor? Or the neglect of the council? Did we misread the prophecy? Or is he not the chosen one? Did the words of the prophecy Poison his mind? Is this the monster the prophecy made?
Five minutes left she says Please let this end Making me sit here is torture Counting the seconds Waiting, waiting, waiting
Four minutes I know I failed this exam English isn’t my strength But then again what is?
3 minutes to go Longest five minutes of my life I wish I was home already
2 more minutes Come on
One minute
End of exam.
I am going to die tonight. I am going to get brutally murdered. Some crazy drug addict will break in to my car and murder me. Or maybe it will be a really charming and seemingly nice guy who offers me a blanket and then turns out to be a psychopathic serial killer. I don’t know how, but it’s happening tonight.
10:31pm. Twelve hours until the job interview. Surely this is a sign. It has to be a red flag. A company that can’t even organise the accommodation they promised? Not to mention this seems to be the sketchiest motel in this entire city. Heck why am I even waiting here? I should just drive home. Clearly they don’t care! No…no…you want this job. This is your dream job. You can’t let a little obstacle like this get in your way. Maybe it’s a test. Maybe they are seeing if I’m dedicated to this job enough to spend the night in my car in an unfamiliar city. Yeah. Yeah that’s it. Has to be a test.
Oh my god what is that guy doing? Oh is he…oh he’s taking a shit in the gutter…okay…ew…what the fuck. I hate the human race. I…can’t even…wow. Wait…there are no public bathrooms near by. What am I gonna do if I need a shit? Fuck. I’m not shitting in a gutter. God let’s pray that moment doesn’t come. Maybe I should check Google maps and see what’s near by…
Man thank god for tinted windows, these people are getting shiftier by the hour. What if someone tried to break in to my car whilst I was inside? That’d be funny. Surprise motherfucker! Ha they’d run for the hills.
I should be recording this experience. TikTok would love it. Just a compilation of crackheads talking to the lamppost. I could start now. What is that time? 2:34am. Eh…no point. All the good stuff has happened.
I’m gonna be so sleep deprived for this interview. Maybe I should try and sleep.
What was that?
Nope, can’t sleep. It’s fine, people have lasted a lot longer on no sleep. I think. “Hey Siri, how long can a human stay away for before going insane?” “A person can stay awake for eleven days before he or she goes insane.” Oh I’ll be perfectly fine. Anyways, better to be tired then dead…I guess.
I think I’m going to start donating to help the homeless. This is rough. I can’t imagine living like this. Never feeling safe. Not being able to sleep. Being cold. Very cold. I’m freezing. Really wish I had a blanket. I wonder if I can rip the car seat apart and use it as a blanket. No. Not worth it. Fuck can that sun hurry up and come up so this can be over with.
I can’t believe I’m getting dressed for the most important of my life in the bathroom of a diner. God I don’t know if any amount of makeup can hide the bags below my eyes. Oh well, it’s going to have to do.
“Hi my name is Claire Andrews, I have a job interview at 10:30.” “Oh Claire hi, I’m Marlene, nice to finally meet you, how was your stay at the The Grand Hotel?” “…I’m sorry, did you say ‘The Grand Motel’ or ‘The Grand Hotel’?” “Hotel, oh please we’d never put our guests up in a motel. Especially not the Grand Motel, there are some very…interesting characters that hang around there” “You don’t say”
I can’t believe this is happening. My own child. A criminal. My sweet innocent baby girl. Being escorted out of the court room.
I remember her first lesson in my beat up Honda civic. She barely even made it up to speed. So nervous... So cautious… So careful… And the first time she saw an animal crossing the road in front of her. She cried because she only just stopped in time. I’ll never forget how the second that she got her license she picked up her friends and visited every fast food chain in the city. I swear I never even saw so much as a scratch on her car. Never once crashed. Never a speeding fine. Nothing. The perfect driver.
I still have a hard time believing the police officers that came to the house that night. The entire night seems like some figment of my imagination. My little girl could never. I couldn’t stop asking them how. How could my little angel commit such a terrible crime? How could she take a life as innocent as her own? “Angela was operating the vehicle with a blood alcohol level of 0.19” No. Not my little girl. Never. She knows better. “She hit the other vehicle head on, travelling at speed on the opposite side of the road” No. “It appears she swerved at the last second, saving herself, but killing the other driver on impact.” Not my little girl.
“Angela Martin, the jury found you guilty of manslaughter…” I can’t believe this is happening. “…sentence you to 5 years in prison…” My own child. “Case closed.” A criminal.