Nightmare

Quick hands flipped through a combination branded on their minds, and threw back the top of a large black chest.

“Vengeance….. Christ…. Reverend….. Shadows.” Black bags full of equiptment were handed out.

Synyster Gates smiled as he opened his own bag. The first item he pulled out was a harness, wrapping around his waist and over his shoulders. Next he clipped on holsters, ammunition slid into square cases, and from their padded foam cases he slipped his precious babies. Twin berretta pistols slid into holsters under his arms, a semi-automatic sig-sauer fit into the holster on his back, and a revolver went into the quick draw belt on his hip. Syn shrugged as he slipped on his leather jacket and slid his final pistol into its pocket before he turned to the rest of the gang.

Black leather jackets faced him, Christ grinned dangerously silver blades flipping and slipping through his fingers.

“Never thought we’d be back again.” Crooned the Reverend Tholomew Plague.

“Enough of the dramatics.” A rough rumble came from the muscular man beside him. “Lets go.”

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June awoke, blindfolded, gagged and bound, in a panic. She screamed struggling against the ties. “Hush!” A soft voice said quietly next to her ear. “If you make noise they’ll come back.” She calmed slightly before the voice continued. “I’m gonna take the gag out ok, but I can’t untie you or take off the blindfold.” The voice sighed. “We have to be very, very quiet.” June felt the gag loosen and fall off.

“Oh god.” She half gasped-half sobbed. “Where am I?”

“I don’t really know the answer to that question.” The voice was young. “We don’t often see outside.”

June gulped trying to get herself under control. “Who are you?”

There was a pause. “My name is Preston, and I am a very good boy.” June heard a brief rustle as the other person settled next to her head. “Which is why I got rewarded with taking care of you.” There was bitterness and sorrow in that voice.

“Who..? Why are we here?” the girl curled further in on herself.

“I don’t know why you’re here, I can guess, but its not like any of us know anything but what we’re supposed to.” There was resignation in that voice. June heard the splashing of liquid in a bottle and smelt the hash tang of alcohol. “You weren’t thrown in the tank with the others, or even put on display which probably means either their holding you for someone real special, or you already belong to someone they need leverage over.”

“Tank? Display?” June could feel her hysteria rising.

There was a bitter laugh. “The man who owns this joint, calls himself Rex, he specializes in human trafficking.” There was another slosh as the male took a gulp from the bottle. “This place, it’s a whorehouse, and precious few of us have any choice about that.” Another gulp. “If you’re lucky your owner will come for you before Rex loses his patience and that’ll be the end of it.”

June took a deep breath. “I don’t belong to anyone but myself.”

Another bitter chuckle, and a gulp of whatever liquor the boy was drinking. “Keep telling yourself that.” A pause. “When you’re a kid you belong to your parents, and if your lucky they buy part ownership for the rest of your life with their care, when you become an adult you belong to your employer, your boyfriend, your only real hope is that you own them as much as they own you, otherwise your fucked hard in the dirt and left cold.”

June swallowed hard and shivered as the silence stretched out between them. “How old are you Preston?”

“Thirteen.”