Grace Comes at Night Part 1

prompt: Coalition | Word Count: 1200 Words | Genre: fiction
Due Jan 29, 2020
Warning: Human trafficking

Grace came at night. An unlooked for favor I could not have hoped for, nor ever thought deserved.

I saw her from the window of my darkened room upstairs. She was taking pictures of the house from the bottom of the rickety staircase, where moments before I had seen Sammy Scumbag, who’d left the door ajar when he entered. 

She looked like an Angel. Like innocence personified. Standing in the light of the open doorway, her pale skin shimmered with an otherworldly radiance. Blond hair haloed by the light of a nearby street lamp. She wore a green sweatshirt and black jeans, clean and crisp. She was older than me, maybe early twenties. She stood with head held high, shoulders pulled back, legs hip-width apart; projecting confidence and strength, despite her slight frame and thin arms.

I couldn’t fathom why she was here. Did she know what went on in this place? Surely she wasn’t planning on going inside?

I’ve lost track of the number of girls who've passed through these walls in the two years I’ve been here. None of us  had ever come of our own free well. We were taken by force or coercion, secreted into the house in the middle of the night. Five rooms occupied, two girls per room. Except mine, since Raina escaped last week.

But I wouldn’t think about Raina right now, gaining her freedom only to be found murdered the next day.

“Please.” The little voice trembled in fear. “Please, I don’t want to.”

I followed the sound of Marisol’s childish plea with my eyes, landed on the cracked mirror on the dresser by the wall separating my room from hers.

“He’ll hurt me, like last time. Please don’t make me do it again.”

I cringed at the sharp crack of palm against face, instinctively raising my hand to my own swollen cheek, now reflected in the fragmented mirror. I closed my eyes, hating the sight of my own face; wishing I could as easily shut my ears to Mari’s desperate cries.

Madam Esther’s stern voice carried through the wall. “You’ll do as I say, girl, or I’ll have you beaten and locked in your room without supper.”

I could smell the burnt crap she called supper wafting up through the unused heater vent.

“Do that! I don't care.”

Another slap, a stifled cry, and two sets of footsteps making for the stairs.

“Be strong, girl,” Keisha called from her room across the hall. “Don’t let him see your fear.”

Or your shame, I thought, bombarded with memories of Sammy Shithead’s vulgar tendencies. Futility and rage warred inside me. Breathing became suddenly more difficult.

I should have taught Mari how to shield her thoughts, how to go away in her mind until it was over and she was alone again, back in the safety of her room.

Except, the last girl I’d given this advice to had lost herself, and never found her way back. After two weeks of unresponsiveness, Esther had her removed. We dared not ask to where. She’d been replaced with twelve year old Marisol.

The house went quiet after the footsteps receded down the stairs to where the “guest chambers” were located. I turned to look out the window again, just in time to see the Angel take a step closer towards the stairs.

“No! Oh, no! You can’t go in there!”

I would’ve run down the stairs, risking my own safety to warn her off, if I hadn’t already heard Esther lock my door when she passed it by on her way to fetch Mari.

“Go away!” I tried in vain to open the window, though I knew it was sealed tight.

I waved my arms in large motions, hoping to catch her attention, gesticulating wildly at the Angel and willing her to run away while she could.


*_*


Something flashed in Grace’s peripheral vision, above and to her left. A teenaged girl waving frantically, motioning for Grace to go away. She looked worn down, despondent, though Grace sensed a core of defiance that’d kept her from sinking into utter despair.  

Grace knew exactly what the girls in this house endured, having lived through similar circumstances herself. Her heart ached at the memories; for herself and for this girl. She backed away from the open doorway, headed towards the shadows again, where she had hidden for the last three hours to watch the comings and goings of the house. Her job was not to draw attention to herself, but to observe and report her findings.

Once she was partially hidden behind the trash bin and a large, dying tree, she raised her camera and took a closeup of the girl in the window. The teenager kept repeating that shooing motion, clearly warning Grace to go away. To beware of the threat of capture and captivity.

Not gonna happen this time, Grace affirmed to herself, reassured by the feel of the device strapped inside her bra, recording and transmitting her location to the Community Coalition Against Human Trafficking, and the police officers they’d engaged. With her reconnaissance today, she was certain they now had enough evidence to prove there were kids being held here, forced to engage in sex against their will.

Grace gestured to the girl, using hand signals and body language to say “I see you. I’m gonna get you out.”  

She tried to convey a message to let the girl know that she knew what went on in this house and that steps were being taken to free the girls held here; to punish their captors. “Maybe not tonight,” Grace said in body language, not wanting to give false hope, “but soon.”

Someone came to the open doorway, blotting out the light. Grace pushed further back into the shadows, but managed to snap a quick photo. An old Asian woman peered out into the night before closing the door firmly behind her.

Taking this as her cue to go, she repeated the message to the girl in the window and hoped it was understood: “We know you’re here. Tell the others to be ready. I promise. We’re gonna get you out.”

Whether she had understood, Grace couldn’t know. But the girl pressed her palm to the window and nodded. Grace wrapped her arms around herself, pointed to the girl, and passed on a virtual hug that she hoped would touch her soul.

It took all her will to walk away and leave this girl behind. She didn’t know how long it would take to get the warrant, or convince the authorities to make a move. She could only pray it wouldn’t be long. 

*_*


The glass was cold under my palm where I’d left it, as I watched my only link to the outside world disappear down the alley.

I flung myself to the mattress as soon as the Angel was gone from view. Wrenching sobs caught in my throat, long denied tears flowing down my cheeks. Hope and despair filled me where moments before had been only futility and rage.

God’s grace had found me tonight, but I didn't know which hurt worse, watching her go, or the kernel of hope she’d left in my heart.

Grace in the Morning - part 2

prompt: For Hire | Word Count: 1000 Words | Genre: fiction
Due Feb 26, 2020
Warning: sequel to Jan20 Prompt; reference to human trafficking
 
Grace in the Morning
 
 
Flashing police lights illuminate the rapid events happening outside the dilapidated house on this chilly Monday morning. Deputies manhandle Madam Esther and her thugs out of the house in handcuffs and bruises. Nearby, Grace watches in silence, her attention focused on the girl in the window upstairs, face shiny with tears.
 
Grace should be elated, but all she feels is heart-sore. Memories are surfacing. Suffocating.
 
“Pull yourself together, Grace,” she tells herself sternly, taking several deep breaths, and reminding herself of her duty. “These girls are counting on you. You didn’t come this far to fail them now.”  
 
She’s the one who’d recognized the signs of human trafficking, had informed the Community Coalition, where she volunteered. She’d set this rescue in motion. She nominated herself to be the one to give freedom back to the abused and mistreated girls trapped inside, and to do it in a way that would preserve their dignity and restore hope to their lives.
 
The old Asian woman glares at Grace as if Esther knows she is to blame for her downfall. But she shows no evidence of remorse or regret as the deputy shoves her roughly into the backseat of his police car.
 
Gabriel, senior detective and coalition leader, appears in the doorway of the house. Signals all clear.
 
She makes her way over to the house, climbs up the porch steps to meet him.
 
Behind her, the new guy follows. He’s wearing leather jeans that sag from his hips, black leather vest over white t-shirt. With his bald head and tattoo sleeves, he looks every bit the part he was hired to play, to infiltrate and obtain the final evidence needed to arrest the ring leaders and convict them with a lasting penalty. 
 
Damon’s persona, coupled with the events of the morning, have unleashed memories of Grace’s own bondage and deliverance, three years before. She instinctively shrinks away from him.
 
"You shouldn’t be here," she says firmly. “It’ll be harder on the girls with you here.”
 
Despite his appearance, Grace knows Damon to be a kind-hearted, gentle man. He has two teen-aged daughters himself, and his motivation is only to help. He nods understanding, fades back into the shadows.
 
At the porch landing Gabriel hands her a set of keys. His beguiling eyes hold her a moment, compassion in his steady, tender gaze.
 
“Go on then,” he steps aside, his confidence bolstering her courage. She takes a deep breath and enters the house.
 
She climbs to the second floor, unlocks the first door at the top of the staircase, opens it slowly. She knows not to approach too quickly. Not to touch or initiate physical contact. Grace knows firsthand the horrors she will have suffered from her captors. The difficulties she’ll face in recovery.
 
Morning sunlight streams through the window. Recognition crosses the girl’s face. She launches herself into Grace’s arms, holds on with fierce relief.
 
“I knew you’d come back,” she whispers. “You’re the Angel I saw in the window that day.” 
 
Grace’s arms tighten around her thin frame, faces press together where warm tears mingle.
 
“I knew you’d come back,” she repeated, “I knew it.”
 
Grace made soft, shushing noises, whispered “its okay,” and “you’re safe now,” and “we’re gonna take care of you,” between the girl’s wrenching sobs and declarations of gratitude.
 
At the touch, warmth infuses Grace’s soul, fills her with resolve and strengthens her purpose.
 
“Let’s go free the others, shall we?”
 
~_~
 
 
The assembly room is charged with a sense of accomplishment and pride, triumph and achievement ripples through the crowd. Gabriel watches as glasses of champagne or sparkling cider are distributed to the throng.
 
“Gather around, people," Gabriel raises his voice above the general hubbub of the assembly. It takes several attempts to gain their attention, caught up as they are in reliving the events of the day.
 
“Let me just start by saying how proud I am of each and every one of you. This has been a long, difficult job and by God, you nailed it!" Gabe pauses for cheers and erupting applause to calm down before continuing.
 
“Please, raise your glass and join me in a toast."
 
Light glints off champagne flutes as they’re lifted high in prideful anticipation.
 
"Because of you, nine young girls have been rescued from atrocious conditions.”
 
Whistles and cheers erupt once again, elation and pride swelling the room.
 
"Because of you, another band of human traffickers have been taken off the streets. I promise, they will be punished to the full extent of the law. It's because of you, and the work of our coalition, that we’ve achieved this success. You are all to be commended for a job well done. Thank you, one and all!"
 
Glasses clink and Gabriel joins the company in downing his cider. He speaks a while longer about the importance of their work, the value each team member brings to the coalition, and he applauds them a final time.
 
He scans the room, observing the group as it breaks into smaller clusters, frowning slightly when he sees Grace set her glass on a side table and head for the door.
 
“Grace!” he calls, hurrying to catch her before she leaves. He wants to tell her how grateful he is, how magnificent she’d been in the gentle manner in which she’d treated the rescued girls. How the girls will need her in the coming days and weeks.
 
He knows she knows this, but he wants to tell her anyway. To have a reason to talk with her. To linger in her presence.
 
~_~
 
 
Grace’s heart leaps when Gabriel calls her name. She’s tempted to pretend she hasn’t heard him, to run away instead. But she’s learned to trust this man in the six months they’ve worked together, even to let her guard down in his presence.
 
“Don’t go,” he says, alluring eyes holding her with his steady, tender gaze.
 
She’s afraid, but not of him.
 
Responding to his soft entreaty, she doesn’t run away.