[quote quote=1814]Manuel snickers as you pass him, but he does not touch you., though as you walk ahead of him to the car, you can feel his eyes undress you. He motions to the open passenger door and shuts it after you slide in before getting in the front passenger seat for the ride out of the slave pens. The door lock clicks as you shut the door.

Exiting the tunnel into fresh air and sunlight is as much a miracle this time as every other time. The driver, a man by the name of Paco, quietly opens the rear windows enough to allow some air in for you. Manuel notices and jumps his ass for it. <span class=”d4pbbc-font-color” style=”color: blue”>”Hey, what are you doing? She does not deserve special treatment.”</span>

Paco snorts. <span class=”d4pbbc-font-color” style=”color: blue”>”Special treatment for her? Fuck off, Manuel. It is for me. You don’t have to get the smell out of the seats every time she rides in the back.”</span>

Manuel twists to look around at you and takes an exaggerated sniff before nodding and turning back to face the front. When Manuel is occupied elsewhere, Paco looks at you through the rear view mirror and gives you a small smile and a wink. Of all of Senor Carlos’ men, Paco is the only one to have treated you even partially decently. The car leaves the hacienda and heads into the city. You have been to his high rise in the past a couple of times and know that it means a special client, but the route the car is taking is wrong for that. The most likely alternative is one of Carlos’ brothels. He has used you in the past to heal one or more of the girls and boys he pimps out from there. Before you, it was easy to just let a sick or injured whore die and replace her with another girl or boy from the streets, but since you came along, he can just have you heal then and get them back to work. Sure enough, the car eventually pulls into the parking lot of the Pink Pussy Cat, a low class brothel. Manuel gets out and your door unlocks. He motions for you to accompany him inside.[/quote]

I would have rather stayed in the cell. This duty of denying the pitiable the escape of death and the arms of their ancestors turns my stomach. This was not mercy, it’s torment. Still, a little voice reminds me that I am waiting for a sign, never knowing when my opportunity will arrive. It is entirely possible our fortunes could turn in the next hour…or a year from now. It is the possibility of the former that permits me to do this detestable duty despite the pleading eyes of these wretches. Our time will come, I’m sure of it.

I harden my heart and pass by Manuel into the place, hoping my look of serious determination doesn’t belie my inner turmoil.