Bullied Property Read online

  Bullied Property

  Hollie Hutchins

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Elaina

  2. Marco

  3. Elaina

  4. Felix

  5. Elaina

  6. Marco

  7. Elaina

  8. Felix

  9. Elaina

  10. Marco

  11. Elaina

  12. Felix

  13. Elaina

  14. Marco

  15. Elaina

  16. Felix

  17. Elaina

  18. Marco

  19. Elaina

  20. Elaina

  More By Hollie

  Bullied Bride

  Let’s Be Friends!

  Prologue

  Elaina

  Clouds darkened over the Rodriguez farm as I made the last of my rounds. I administered medicine to the chickens for an illness that had spread through their coop. Thankfully I caught it early. The farmers tended to blame me if they lost too much of their livestock, even if by the time I was able to treat them it was too far gone for me to control. A brood of dead chickens could cost me my work with the family altogether.

  I could feel the moist chill rolling in the air, and I still had to check on a few cows that were due to give birth soon. With another farm to visit after this, my last stop of the day, I needed to work fast or else I’d be soaking wet by the time I made it home to my mother and sisters.

  Mr. Rodriguez came riding up on his horse when he spotted me in the pasture. He likely knew I was nearly finished for the day and was coming to settle up. I was always grateful for that over the clients who would make me hunt them down and practically beg to be paid. But he hung his head low when he explained he was short again. This was usually how it went.

  Farming was a risky and costly business. There was too much beyond their control like the weather or the state of the animals. My services as a vet were a necessity, but most of the farmers around here could still hardly afford me. It certainly wasn’t enough to cover my mother’s medical bills in addition to the rest of our living expenses.

  I graciously accepted what Mr. Rodriguez could afford to pay and told him I hoped things looked up for him soon. I knew he wasn’t trying to short me on purpose. It was the hottest summer on record in years and many were struggling to keep their animals healthy in the squelching heat and to keep their crops watered well enough to survive.

  “You’re too kind, Elaina,” Mr. Rodriguez tipped his hat to me with a humble smile. “It can’t be easy for you to take care of your family on this kind of wage. But it’s better than being up at auction in Bogota, I suppose.”

  Before I could ask what that meant, he rode off and disappeared over the edge of the field. I didn’t know anything about an auction in the capital. I hadn’t been anywhere near the city since I finished veterinary school, which I worked hard to pay my own way through. But if Mr. Rodriguez believed it was a thing I should be glad not to be a part of, I’d take his word for it.

  But this restless feeling of something needing to change had been building in me for a while. My sisters and I were born out of an affair our mother had with a man in America. She did not think he would ever leave his wife to be a proper father and husband to us, so she brought us back to Colombia and raised us on her own. We were so young when it happened that none of us could remember him. We didn’t even know his name. My mother was strong enough to never need a man, but now she was getting older and had fallen ill. The burden of supporting our family had fallen on me and my sisters.

  I knew something needed to change in order for me to keep up with our expenses and my mother’s health. It’s as if I was so desperate for some new solution, I had my ears perked for the slightest possibility. That’s what lead me to ask Josephine about this mysterious Bogota auction when I arrived for my next job.

  “Rich Colombian families pay a lot of money for services…contract labor,” I explained to my mother and sisters later that evening, just as Josephine had explained it to me. “With veterinary work, I could likely get a good job at a pretty decent wage and get our family out of debt. We might even be able to get ahead.”

  Lucia and Jada’s eyes were wide with disbelief. My mother listened carefully, on edge, and skeptical as always but that was faded more and more these days by her illness.

  “I’ve heard terrible things about what happens to women who are auctioned away there,” Lucia shook her head.

  “It’s a façade!” Jada confirmed. “They claim they are buying people’s services for their farms, but the women are often abused. You can’t do this, Elaina.”

  They didn’t argue much at first, likely because they thought I would back down at their first refusal. But they should have known better. My mind was practically already made up before I even told them about it. I needed a chance at something new, something better.

  “Slaving away for what amounts to nothing more than pocket change at the end of the day isn’t going to keep us afloat much longer,” I explained sternly. “I am the only one with an education who stands a chance at getting a real job with good pay through the auction. There will always be horror stories about any new and unfamiliar thing. And the bad will always carry further than any of the good. Bad press gets more attention.”

  My sisters continued arguing, increasing the urgency and drama of their tales more with each passing minute. They were so worked up they started speaking over one another in a frenzy. Finally, I had bit my tongue long enough.

  “I would do anything for my family!” I barked, silencing them immediately. “Even if it means auctioning myself off as slave labor!”

  Lucia and Jada looked away with grim expressions, realizing that if I was so adamant about this, it meant we were worse off than they realized. But my mother’s eyes darkened in determination and resolve. I knew I had said too much.

  “I will not have my daughter become a slave,” she answered in a deep rasp. “I forbid it.”

  Speaking those few words, even with how much she restrained her voice, was enough to send her into a terrible coughing fit. She pulled herself up from the dining table to excuse herself from us, but just as she rounded the corner, I noticed her pull the napkin from her mouth to reveal a streak of blood. We were running out of time.

  I left my sisters without arguing any further, knowing it was no use. They were younger than me and not ready to accept the harsh reality. It wasn’t enough to just get by. Our mother needed better treatment than we could afford and more than what was available in our rural village. The auction soon became the only resolution in my mind.

  Once the house grew quiet and I knew everyone was settled in and sound asleep, I quietly packed me things. I wrote them a letter, apologizing for disappointing them, but promised it would be better for us in the long run. With the note pinned to the table under a vase of flowers, I ran off into the night with only as much as I could carry in a small sack over my shoulder.

  1

  Elaina

  My journey into the city was terrifying. Men gathered on the corners of the streets stared me down with threatening gazes. I had heard plenty of stories about what happened to women who went roaming around here when they were unfamiliar with the area. My fear got the better of me for a moment, sending me into a frenzy where I was so concerned with avoiding anyone who looked like a threat, that I ended up even more lost than before.

  My heart pounded as I wandered through the unfamiliar alleyways. As I walked with my senses on high alert, adrenaline pumping through my veins, I thought I could understand why some women went into prostitution just as I passed a few of them on the corner. My eyes met theirs and I knew at once they weren’t so different from me. That’s what I had been doing selling away
my services for nothing all these years, without resorting to selling off my body as the product.

  They weren’t bad women. It was just the only way they could see to make a living, just the same as how I viewed the auction. If it hadn’t been for my education in a trade, I might be standing right there on the street corner with them.

  I got so lost in my thoughts that I bumped right into a big burly man barreling down the street. He sneered down at me, towering above by nearly three or four feet. His chest was so round and large, it seemed to block out the run behind him. As his snarl faded into a vicious grin, I knew he didn’t see the difference between me and the women on the corner either.

  He asked, somewhat politely, how much. I knew what he meant and felt disgusted, offended. I told him I wasn’t for sale and attempted to huff past, but he tightly grabbed my arm and twisted. I looked up at him in fear, seeing how his features had crumpled into empty anger. I knew I could not give into him. I didn’t grow up the head of my household, protecting my family all those years for nothing. My uncles taught me how to fight.

  With one swift kick of my leg, my foot struck him between the legs. He buckled over from the searing pain, but it was not enough to make him release his grip of my arm. I tried to run past before I realized he hadn’t let go, and his body crippling over in the opposite direction nearly ripped my arm from the socket. I was forced to follow his body’s lead and try to find another way to get free.

  He mustered up what he could through the pain and whipped me around, trying to wrap his arms around me. I bit into his arm as hard as I could, drawing blood. He let out a terrible growl that caught the attention of everyone within earshot, but no one came to help me. They were afraid of him, and I knew I should be too. Maybe even enough not to fight him, but I couldn’t surrender to whatever he had in store for me.

  I threw my head back, ramming into his hard enough that I was able to set free from his grip, and scramble off of a few feet. He tried to run after me, grabbing at my limbs and my clothes, but somehow, I was fast enough to outrun him. But not without getting a number of nasty scratches and bruises in the process.

  I didn’t stop running, even as tears clouded my vision so much that I could barely see where I was going. Once my attacker was far behind me, the people I passed by looked at me with confusion. They hadn’t seen what happened and had no clue as to why I was so afraid, or what I was running from. My heart began to beg the question – had I made a mistake?

  But as soon as I thought it, I noticed I was on a quiet, calm and empty street. The setting sun cast a warm glow across the closed-up shops, which almost seemed like a sign. It felt like a safe place, even if I had no way of knowing that for sure. Whatever safety was to be found there would be gone soon if I didn’t find shelter. After seeing what kinds of things happened in broad daylight, I knew I did not want to be out here alone in the dark.

  “Señorita?” A woman’s voice called out quietly from one of the darkened doorways.

  I turned around to see a plump woman poking her head out from a café. She looked very worried for me and quickly began waving me over.

  “Do you need help?”

  I was speechless for a few seconds, unsure of how to answer or explain. But I saw her eyes dart across the scraps on my arm and chest underneath my ripped blouse. The sight was enough to answer for me I guess because she soon shuffled me inside without asking anything else.

  She served me food and tea, and finally I had calmed down enough to explain everything to her. She was quiet and listened intently, reminding me of my mother. Part of me wished she could tell me I had overreacted, much like I would with my sisters. That the man who attacked me was just random bad luck and otherwise I should be fine. But she seemed to understand the dangers of the city all too well and offered me no comfort. I was smart to be afraid.

  “I would hire you myself if I could,” she smiled, taking pity on me. “But I am barely able to keep my head above water as it is. But I can offer you a place to stay for the evening. And I can send you where you need to go for the auction.”

  I nearly cried as I thanked her, wondering how I would have gotten by without her help. Maybe it was foolish to go in search of this thing without a better plan, but after seeing the state my mother was in, I couldn’t waste any time.

  The room above the café was small and dusty. The bed looked like it was built for a child more than a grown woman and it squeaked terribly. I barely slept a wink with all of the springs poking into my back, but I was so grateful for the help I couldn’t complain. It was certainly better than whatever waited for me in the city streets at night.

  I expected to be shown out first thing the next morning, but the woman sat me down at a table with a full spread for breakfast. I scarfed down an ample helping of rice, beans, eggs, and chorizo. She was even nice enough to serve up a cup of hot chocolate to go with it.

  “God knows what you’ll be eating once you get to where you’re going,” she sighed. “You better enjoy this big, hot meal while you have it. You may not have another one for a while.”

  I swallowed a gulp of the chocolate down hard, knowing she was probably right. I already missed the humble but well-cooked meals my sisters and I always managed to prepare, no matter how tight we were on money. Any food seemed to taste better when we cooked and ate it in each other’s company. But if me getting by on scraps also meant that they were taken care of and that I had a chance at giving us a better life, I was happy to take it.

  By the time I finished eating, the café had opened to regular customers and the woman seemed eager for me to leave. She slipped a piece of paper into my hand and shoved me towards the door. I thanked her again and said goodbye but lingered for a moment expectantly.

  “Sorry to bother you. You have already done so much,” I said slowly. “You had said you could help me find the…”

  “Go, go, go!” she answered urgently. “That is all, now go!”

  Feeling confused and worried all over again, I stepped back out into the city streets. I had almost forgotten about the slip of paper she quietly pressed into my hand. I opened it up to see a set of directions and a note to give to the person in charge once I arrived.

  I followed the map closely to arrive at the back-alley door and knocked twice, paused, then a third time, as instructed. The man on the other side of the door seemed to expect a note immediately. He barely opened it just enough to hold out his hand impatiently. Once he read the note, he ushered me into the dark building.

  The gangly man explained that he was the director of this operation, though that seemed hard to believe. The auction’s reputation for being so dangerous lead me to think its ringleader must be more like the man who accosted me in the street. This man was wire-thin and old and seemed weak enough that I could take him. But I quickly began to spot the larger, scary men that loomed in the dark corners of every room. I quickly realized he was simply the brains behind the operation, and they were the brawn to back him up.

  “I will find you a good place to work for,” he explained as he led me to a room. “Until then, you will stay here.” He stopped to look me up and down as he unlocked the door to where I would be staying. “Young, pretty thing like you…shouldn’t take long.”

  “To be clear, I am rendering my services as a veterinarian,” I reminded him sternly, needing to make sure there was no confusion. I could hardly see what my looks had to do with my skills as a worker.

  He simply laughed, revealing a half toothless grin. “Meals will be delivered to your room. Your food as well as your board and my fee will be taken out of your initial pay once we find you placement.”

  “Yes, of course,” I replied, grateful that he expected nothing upfront. Though I guess no one with that kind of money to throw around would be here in the first place.

  After setting my sack down on the bed and looking around to take in the small, dusty room which greatly resembled where I had stayed the night before, I was surprised to see the man still standing i
n the doorway. I stared back at him awkwardly, wondering what else was expected of me.

  “Your resume!” he snapped, holding out a greedy hand just as he had at the front door.

  “So sorry,” I blushed, digging around in the pack for my handwritten work history and recommendations I had gathered while building my clientele of farmers back home.

  The moment I handed it over, he slammed the door shut behind him. I sat down on the bed and stared out the small window overlooking the surrounding clay buildings. I already missed home so much it hurt, and my heart ached even more to imagine my mom and sisters waking up to find I was gone with nothing but my letter left behind.

  I was served a small portion of rice for dinner and terrible oatmeal for breakfast. While I ate, I watched some children eating fresh peaches in the street outside my window and wished I could have some fresh fruit. I was not bought and sold yet, so it seemed that maybe I could venture out on my own if I pleased. But I quickly remembered my first experience in the city as well as the scary-looking men lining the walls downstairs and thought better of it.

  After another dinner that was barely enough to fill me up so I could actually sleep, followed by an equally dissatisfying breakfast and lunch, there was finally a knock on my door. Feeling wary, I opened it up just enough to see it was the boss standing there.

  “May I come in?” he barked, more as an order than a question.

  I stepped to the side and let him come in, hoping for the best. It was terrifying not to know the rules or who I could trust and who I couldn’t. But I reminded myself that the nice woman at the café sent me to this man, and surely, she would have warned me if he was dangerous. After all, she had been right about the food being less than gratifying.