Three hours to Seattle, that's all it would take. Three hours and she would be free of this hell hole. That is, if she could escape this place...and...she thought for a moment...and if Thomas, her pimp didn't catch up to her first. He was just down the street at the corner market. Oh and that john she had just cold cocked with the table lamp and bear bottle, if he wasn't completely K.O.'d he'd also be on her tail in a minute or less. She contemplated finishing him off with the broken bottle...or maybe a kitchen knife? She thought about it while stooping over his limp body. But she didn't have a moment to lose, Thomas would be here any minute. Now was her chance.
Cindy had spent all of her young adult life working the streets of Portland for Thomas as 'his most prized hoe' as he would refer to her when speaking with his friends, cohorts and clients. He saw it as loyalty. She was just trying to survive. He valued her because she was willing to do anything, anything the tricks wanted. This brought him a higher price. As obedient and forgiving as a well trained dog. But that is not what Cindy wanted to be. She never wanted this life.
She first hit the streets at the age of 14. A runaway from a broken family. Both parents in jail on drug charges, a foster family who abused her, and an extended family who wanted nothing to do with her for being a part of the riffraff of the family. She had no one to turn to at the time. It was only her younger cousin living in Seattle who truly cared about her. But her aunt and uncle would have no part of her coming to stay with them. "We don't need the drama from that rebellious child" they would tell her cousin Annabel. "She lies, she steals, and she smokes. Let Child Services take care of her. They'll make sure she's in a home that's trained to handle her behavior"
Cindy would often text her cousin Annabel for advice, but what good advice usually comes from a 13 year old offering it to a 14 year old living in extreme duress? "Just run away from them" Annabel would text Cindy. "Just run away if they hit you like that. You don't need foster parents who hit you." And so she did. Cindy ran away from her foster home.
It wasn't long until Cindy realized she'd have to sell herself just to buy food and clothes. Living under a bridge in east Portland isn't exactly the safest place for a teenage girl either. It took less than 3 days of living on the streets for an attacker to discover her and brutally rape her while she slept in that dark corner. This would be the first of countless never ending attacks.
"You need a pimp" another prostitute working her street told her. "You need someone who can protect you and make better deals than you can on your own. Besides, I don't need some young newbie stealing my business. Come with me. I know a guy" That's when Cindy met Thomas.
Oh, Thomas would make deals alright. He mostly used Cindy to fund and fuel his drug business. She would do whatever he asked her. His most prized hoe indeed. She would service even the sickest bastards Thomas could find. 'At least he protects me' Cindy would rationalize in her mind. 'At least I don't have to live under a bridge, I can work in a closed environment, and he'd always be just around the corner to stop someone from killing me if things got too bad' Of course Thomas did feed her and gave her a mattress to sleep on in his crack house. He also supplied her with the drugs she needed to forget. But no drug he gave her could truly strike the pain and images from her mind. It was just too much. Too many years of working for him. It was time to get out.
Annabel had grown up, finished college and had just gotten her first apartment. "come stay with me in Seattle" she pleaded with Cindy. "I have my own place, come stay with me and we will work things out together. I'm here for you"
On that fateful day, Cindy decided to make a run for her life. Inside the home of one of Thomas's better paying clients, Cindy stood over the unconscious man that she had just knocked out, contemplating her escape. Now, was the time. Now was her only chance to get to Seattle.
Usually her car wasn't readily available. But this time it was. Most of the time, her car would be parked at the house while Thomas would drive her and drop her off at the home of one of the johns. But this time was different, he had her drive herself for this trick while he would go make another deal. After that he would meet up with her when she finished, take the money and she'd go do another. He was starting to trust her she thought, after-all, he did buy her the car a couple of years ago. He trusted her enough to screw for his money and run some of his drugs.
Still high on crack and a surge of adrenaline, Cindy burst through the front door, down the steps and out to her maroon 95 Chevy Corsica. An old beater it was. Rusted undercarriage, sun faded and pealing paint, broken drivers mirror and an obnoxious tapping noise from the engine...at least it still ran. It would get her to Seattle, she was sure of it.
In the back seat her baby was crying and drenched in sweat from heat exhaustion. Cindy did leave the car running and air conditioning on. But it was mid August, and at best all the a/c could do was blow some semi-cool air. It was still nearly 100 degrees in the car when she opened the front door and looked to the back seat to check on her baby.
"oh baby, I'm so sorry. We're gonna be alright...mama's gonna get us outta here, I promise" Trembling in fear, Cindy fumbled for her keys. "I'm not gonna let the bad men get us, we're gonna go to a better place...no more bad men. I promise baby."
Cindy started the car, revved the engine up, and threw it into reverse knocking over the trash can by the sidewalk and bottoming out as she bounced over the curb and onto the narrow city street. She couldn't go west to reach I-5. The street was closed off for construction. She had to go east, it was the only way. Go east and get past Thomas. She could do this. Tensioner belt squealing, engine tapping and the stench of burnt oil, she punched it forward and turned left on Martin Luther King Jr Blvd. Go north to I-5 and then north to Seattle. She'd call her cousin when she got close. That was the plan.
Passing the corner market, as she turned left on MLK jr blvd, she saw Thomas out by the street leaning up against his black 2017 Dodge Charger conversing with a couple of men. He was making a deal. 'Oh God, I hope he doesn't see me' She thought. But how could he not? Her car was just so damn noisy. And he did.
She could see the shock and instant anger swelling in his ridged and pitted brown face as he pounded the hood of his car. "Oh my god, he sees me" she whispered to herself in horror as her car squealed past him. "oh god, please let me free, oh god, please let me free"
Cindy did have a good head start, but it wouldn't last long. His car had so much more power and speed than hers. But if she could lose him on the blvd before reaching the freeway, then he'd most likely think she went back to the house. Just a bad deal with that trick is all she wanted him to think this was about. Hopefully he would go looking for her at the house. That would buy her more time. 'I just need to lose him in the traffic', she thought. She didn't want him thinking she went to the freeway. She would lose this race for sure between Portland and Seattle if he ever caught up.
She plowed through traffic, running red lights and dodging pedestrians and bicyclists. A slow 18 wheeler was about to pull out in front of her.
"Oh no you don't, a--hole!" Cindy shrieked. She swerved around the big rig, narrowly missing it. Barreling down the boulevard she cried, "Get around that Thomas, you f-cker!"
Just a couple more miles to go. She didn't see Thomas behind her. 'I'm gonna make it' she thought. Just a little further. Cindy made it to the freeway and it wasn't long and she was crossing the I-5 bridge into Vancouver, Washington. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Looking in the rear view mirror at her small child, Cindy forced a smile through the blood that was crusting over her swollen lips. "Bad men are gone baby. I promise. Bad men are gone" Her baby girl was still crying.
'Cindy the slut'. That's the name that kept repeating over and over again in her mind. 'Cindy the slut, Cindy the slut'. That's the name Thomas called her when he wasn't calling her other names like hoe, c-nt, b-tch and every other vulgar name that was thrown at her. She was property to him. That's all she was. Nothing but a thing to be sold to his "clients". Extra revenue for more crack and a wet spot to slap around and amuse.
She made it through Vancouver and still no sign of Thomas behind her. She kept looking back at her small baby girl. Cindy had never given her a name. She just called her 'baby'. Cindy's mind was always full of so much. Sometimes she couldn't even believe that she even had a daughter. Who was this child she gave birth to in that crack house?
All of these years was nothing but a whirlwind of drugs, abuse, and all of the prostitution. Thomas sold her to the worst of the worst. Men who were sadistic and got off from the abuse...and the cutting. She had been gang raped and cut and burned so many times she couldn't count. But somehow she managed to shield her baby from most of the abuse. Now she was going to make a new life with her baby at her cousin's place in Seattle. "I will think of a good name for you, I promise my baby girl."
Cindy had almost reached Kalama when the crash happened. The impact from behind was so great that the rear window shattered throwing bits of glass forward showering the back seat, Cindy's neck, and some of it landing her babies hair. The small Corsica spun out of control, wheels screeching, and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air. Cindy tried to maintain control, but the whiplash stunned her and about all she could manage was a controlled fishtail to the shoulder of the highway. The car came to a sudden stop in the grass embankment. The baby was now crying hysterically.
Cindy tried to pull herself together, but she couldn't shake the shock of impact quickly enough to react.
"You B-tch!" she heard the angry male voice shout from outside. It was Thomas. Indeed he had caught up to her.
Thomas threw the car door open, grabbing Cindy by the hair, and dragging her out.
"Where did you think you were going you little c-nt!?" Thomas demanded while gripping her hair in his left hand and clenching his right hand around her throat.
"Uhhg...uhh, I...(cough)..I...don't...know..." Cindy managed to whimper a response while choking from the pressure of his clenching hand.
"I'm gonna kill you for this you worthless b-tch, for all that I've invested in you and you gonna ditch me like this!?" Shouted Thomas. "You're gonna die!" Thomas let go of her throat and reared his fist back to punch her in her face. Thomas was much bigger than her. 6' 2'' and 220lbs of solid muscle. He lifted weights and was a street fighter. A blow to her could certainly kill this petite 100lb woman.
And then it happened. Due south came the flash. A very bright flash, brighter than the sun it seemed. Fortunately Cindy wasn't facing that direction, but Thomas was. The flash had blinded him. The heat seared his skin like a bad sunburn.
(image source Fotolia.com)
"What the f-ck was that!" yelled another male voice. It was Thomas's business partner, Carl who had been sitting in the passenger seat of the Charger.
"My eyes! My eyes!" Shouted Thomas. "Grab this b-tch!"
Carl bolted over and snagged Cindy's arm as she tried to jerk it away. "No you don't, we're not through with you, b-tch" Carl forcefully barked at her.
Thomas may have been a pimp and drug dealer, but he wasn't uneducated. He had been paying attention to the news and he knew exactly what happened. The reports of rising nuclear tensions between North Korea, China, Russia and the US continued to grow and become more intense over the last few years. Emergency Alert tests were being conducted regularly. Local authorities and news channels had been putting out public announcements in an attempt to educate the public on what to do in case of a nuclear attack. Most of America knew a nuclear war was eminent, but people still weren't ready.
Portland had just been leveled. This was it. There was no going back there.
Northbound traffic hadn't yet caught on to what had just happened. But southbound traffic had come to a screeching halt. People were already exiting their vehicles gazing at the growing mushroom cloud in bewilderment as they looked on toward Portland.
"Throw that b-tch in the car, and grab the kid. I'm gonna sell it" demanded Thomas. "You're driving!"
"Where are we going to go?" asked Carl
"Just get us out of here!" ordered Thomas. "North....No...We need to go east, into the mountains. Take us north of Longview then go east like we are going to Mt. St. Helens. We need to get out of here....Sh-t just hit the fan!"
"What about the car?" Carl continued to balk "You smashed the front end!"
"Just drive!" persisted Thomas "Just go as far as we can"
Carl forced Cindy into the back seat of the charger and threw the baby in after her. Thomas staggered, still blinded and finding his way to the passenger seat of the Charger. Carl hopped into the driver seat and then sped north on I-5, leaving a trail of coolant behind them. They were going to make their way into the mountains until hell blew over.
No human being should ever experience the nightmares that were about to happen. For decades to come, humanity would endure collective unimaginable horrors that could only be dreamed of in Hollywood.
Cindy's life would be very short, her torment would soon end. But her baby, this small defenseless child...Well, that would be a different story.
(image source Fotolia.com and author photo edit)
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