"To some extent I liken slavery to death." - Marcus Tullius Cicero

     Piper flinched at Dylan's gaze as he shoved her dinner to her. It was a peanut butter sandwich. Piper had loved peanut butter sandwiches since she was little, but Dylan somehow managed to make them unappetizing. Not that she had much of an appetite anyway. 

     She ate her sandwich without much enthusiasm. She remembered how she had met Dylan while on a trip with her father. They had gone off the reservation to visit Piper's grandfather, who was sick in the hospital. Dylan had told her he could offer her a job with good pay and benefits. He promised her opportunities that were rare on the reservation.

    Naive as she was, Piper agreed to go with him. She left her father the next week. She had only been 16 then, but she wanted to help bring in the money her father desperately needed. There weren't many jobs for him, as most people on the reservation were employed by the tribal or federal government. Piper knew things weren't as bad as on some reservations, like Pine Ridge Reservation where the average life expectancy was the second lowest in the western hemisphere*, but Piper knew people her age whose lives were lost to drugs, alcohol, or suicide. She didn't want to end up like them. 

        "What's for dessert?" Lacey asked.

       "There's no dessert here!" Dylan growled.

       Lacey's shoulders slumped. Today was her first day and Piper knew how she must feel. The first day was always hard, but time didn't make the pain and humiliation any less hurtful; it only made the pain more familiar. 

    Piper scooted towards Lacey. The new girl was only 15, but her braces and the fact that her hair had been in pigtails when Piper first saw her made her seem even younger. Lacey's shoulders were trembling and tears were running down her cheeks.

    "I'm hungry," she said.

    Piper understood why she focused on her hunger. It was easier that way to say that the thing that hurt the least was the one causing the most pain. Piper had grown accustomed to hunger in the decade she had been stuck in Dylan's clutches. Piper missed many things: good food, the sun, but most of all: her father.

    "I can give you some of my breakfast tomorrow," Piper promised.

    "Really?" Lacey asked.

    "Yes," Piper said. "Dylan said we'll have bacon and I'm a vegetarian."

  "Even though you're hungry?" Lacey asked.

    "I'd be sick to my stomach if I ate meat," Piper said with a shrug. "I usually trade meat for something else, but you need your strength."

    "When will I get to leave?" Lacey asked.

    "I wish I could give you an answer," Piper said. "but I'm not sure. I've been here for more than ten years."

    "But surely we can leave or escape?" Lacey asked.

    As if the world had heard Lacey's words, there was a knocking on the door downstairs. Piper heard Dylan answer the door. She couldn't hear everything, but she heard heavy footsteps and the words "police" and "warrant."

    Lacey and Piper exchanged glances. Lacey was beaming and Piper managed a small smile for the girl. The footsteps and voices drew closer. Piper heard a creak as the door opened up.

    She imagined the scene from the officers' point of view. There were several sleeping bags rolled up on the ground and six women and one man sitting on the ground. They all wore smudged makeup and torn clothes. All of them sported bruises and cuts and Drew had a sprained ankle.

    "Arrest them all," one of the officers said.   

    "We haven't done anything wrong!" Lacey squeaked.

    "Please," Piper added. "We're victims too."

    The officers didn't listen to them. They roughly shackled and handcuffed them. Piper only hoped that they would let Lacey go because of her age because she had no illusions of hope let for herself.

*My source for this statistic is: http://indianyouth.org/american-indian-life