The Never List

asked.
    “About the white slavery network. That there’s a huge organization that will hunt you down and kill you if you try to escape. And kill your family. If you still have one.”
    The van’s engine revved, and we made a hard right turn.
    “How did you end up here?” Tracy asked after a few minutes of silence, while we took in the girl’s words, trying to process the impossible.
    “I was pretty stupid. Got myself into this mess. I ran away with my boyfriend when I was fourteen, and we hitched our way to Portland. We both wanted to get out of some sticky situations at home.”
    She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
    “We should’ve known better,” she continued, “but when you’re young, you think you’re going to beat the odds. You know, whatever, we were just kids back then.”
    I held my tongue, thinking how very much she was still just a kid.
    Tracy shifted forward, “Let me guess. Drugs. What was it? Heroin? Ecstasy? Special K?”
    The girl looked at her blankly at first but finally nodded. “Heroin. That was Sammy’s thing. So … you know the story—he had to pay for the drugs, so he had to sell the drugs. He didn’t exactly have an MBA, so you know, funds got low. Especially because he ended up using half of his own shit.”
    She was shaking her head, clearly more disgusted at Sammy’s business acumen than at the fact that he was a heroin dealer and user. “So he got into it with these very gentleman chauffeuring us at the moment. He had to pay off his debts somehow.” She shrugged.
    “With … with you?” I asked, revolted.
    “Well … Oh, I should have known something was up. He begged me to go with him for a pickup. He got down on his knees and cried, saying he couldn’t do it without me. He was convincing. I guess anyone can turn out to be a hell of an actor when their life is at stake.”
    She paused and stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t read her expression.
    “Look, I know he loved me. And I know it nearly killed him to do it, but you know, it was him or me. Only one of us was going to live at that point. And he picked himself.” She pursed her lips. “Fair enough.
    “He took me out to this warehouse in the middle of fucking nowhere, see. I have played this scene over in my head like a zillion times. Obviously this was a bad idea. Obviously it could not end well. Who knows? Maybe it was a form of suicide walking into that building that day. At any rate, we did it. We walked in, two kids in the middle of one big shitstorm of a life. And there were these three guys”—she jerked her thumb in the direction of our drivers—“sitting at a tiny little fold-out table in the center of the room. It was comical, really. They were really … big you see.” She held up her hands in the air, far apart. “And the table,” she laughed, “it was so small there in front of them.” She held her hands close together, showing us the proportions.
    She couldn’t go on, she was cracking herself up so much. We waited silently, frankly not seeing the humor in it at all.
    Finally, she continued. “I didn’t suspect it right away, but I was pretty creeped out when I saw the looks on their faces. Grinning from ear to ear. Looking back, I guess they thought they knew an earner when they saw one. At the time I was afraid they were going to rape me. Ha.” She looked off in the distance and swallowed hard. But there were no tears.
    “That was pretty naïve. I thought a little gang rape was about the worst thing on earth.” She laughed, but it was humorless this time. She wiped a strand of brown hair out of her eyes, pushing it back behind her ear.
    All three of us shifted uneasily and stared down at our knees. As though we couldn’t even look at each other and see our shared shame in one another’s eyes. I looked up at the row of girls next tous. If they were listening, they hid it well. Each seemed wrapped up in her own thoughts, or the total lack thereof. Finally, the girl started talking again.
    “Anyway, they grabbed me and dragged me away. Sammy was crying and yelling out how much he loved me. But I could see that shifty look on his face and knew he was in on it. Sure he cried, but he was crying for himself. Poor Sammy, losing his girlfriend like this. When they told him to beat it, he turned and ran as fast as he could out the door. He was smart, I suppose. Set me up, then got the hell out. I know it just killed him, though. Well, maybe it was even enough for him to