t/w
death, pedophilia, rape, trafficking

I will never proofread these

Natalia sprawled out across the bed, Harrison's TV playing on full volume in the other room. It sounded like it was some sort of baseball game. She'd pulled on an over sized t-shirt and some sweatpants she had with her. It was the most covering thing she had. She had a TV in this room and she'd usually just play it for background noise while she slept. She hadn't gone to sleep without noise in eight years. Whether it be voices of the multiple children around her or the voice of some man twenty plus years her senior calling her 'sexy' or 'hot' or whatever.

The TV was off. She couldn't sleep, not yet anyway. She could still feel his hands on her. This was fucking torture.

The extent of Natalia's knowledge is that she was in Canada. She had no clue where, though. Given what she'd seen outside of the windows, she was in the woods, so that gave some answers. But in the end, she had no way of knowing if there was a town just a few minutes away or if she was hours upon hours on end away from any other civilization. The last place she'd been was Ireland. It was February 26th. She had turned fifteen just four days ago. 

Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen

She'd been here way too fucking long. She'd been property for way too fucking long. She had to free herself. She tried to shake away the thought, she tried it before when she was twelve, when she was in an American city, either New York City or Chicago. She'd tried to stab him. Her hands were now very much scarred because of it. Like quite literally, the dude sliced up her hands, leaving her with permanent scarring.

But she had to try again. She had too get the fuck out of here. So, she stood up. And then sat back down. How the hell would she even go about it? She'd tried to kill the American guy when he was sleeping but he was, unfortunately for her, a light sleeper and she didn't want to risk that again. What was a girl to do?

"Talia?" Harrison poked his head in. Natalia looked up at him, keeping her eyes and face as a calm as she could. A lesson she'd learned from Maeve. To keep her eyes and face blank when whoever had her at the time wanted to rape her. He stepped forward, grabbing the bottom of her shirt and taking it off, no sooner pinning her down. 

Oh, god. No, not again. Not. Fucking. Again.

His lips traveled down her stomach and he pulled down her sweatpants and underwear. Stop. She almost said it. But she could barely say anything. She could hardly breath. She wanted him to stop, but even if she could bring herself to speak, it's not like he would anyway.

She looked around, desperate to find anything that could work. She looked to her left to see the glass cup on the nightstand. And before she could completely think about what she was about to do, she did it. She grabbed the cup and brought it down onto his head, shattering it. He died after seconds.

(yes I stole that from don't worry darling)

Natalia's breathing picking up, she pushed his body off, she frantically put her clothes back on and as quickly as she could, she ran out the door, down the snow covered driveway and down road. After ten minutes of walking in the freezing cold, she came to a town. Thank whoever the hell is up there.

She walked up to the first person she saw. A young man, looking to be around eighteen, nineteen or early twenties. "Excuse me, sir?" She said and he looked at her. "Hey. Everything okay?" He asked. Obviously he'd ask that, she had goosebumps, she didn't have shoes and wasn't even wearing a jacket. "No, no, it's not. I need your help. Do you know Harrison Micheal?"

He looked at her. "Yeah? Is he okay?"

"I just...my name is Natalia Haden." She smoothed her hair. "I was being trafficked, I had to kill him, I..." She cut herself off, she was legitimately distressed. "No, no. He wouldn't do that." He said. "He would." She stated.

So, she climbed into his pick-up truck and he drove her. There was Harrison's dead body in the bedroom for proof. The police were called. Natalia was taken to Toronto. There, she'd be furthur questioned.