The Last Tear

Two days later, the car finally stopped. My family dragged me out, and the second they yanked the hood off, a wave of sadness hit me.

I had guessed correctly. It was the house I'd lived in for 18 years.

The statues at the front gate still had the dark circles I'd drawn on them as a kid, back when I thought it was hilarious.

I glanced around, caught up in my thoughts, when my father suddenly slapped me so hard that my ears rang.

"Keep your damn eyes down. Don't look at things you're not supposed to."

It was a while before the gates creaked open. Then out stepped a tall, broad-shouldered man.

It was Tyler.

Roger hurried forward, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Hello, Mr. Ty. We brought the girl, just like you asked. So, uh…"

Tyler's gaze swept over me, and he frowned.

"You didn't have to rough her up this badly."

Over the past two days, my family had beaten me more times than I could count. To keep me quiet, they'd even taped my mouth shut so I wouldn't blurt anything like last time.

"No choice," my father said quickly, putting on a fake smile. "She's stubborn. It's hard to keep her in line."

Tyler gave a short nod. "Doesn't matter. Even the toughest girls break once they're here.

"Anyway, lucky timing. Mrs. Fuller is picking a few strong ones today for the procedure. If she's chosen, and she actually delivers a baby later, you'll get a bonus—maybe an extra few grand."

My stomach dropped.

Mrs. Fuller. He was talking about Margaret Fuller, my foster mother.

Before I could even process, they shoved black hoods back over all our heads.

"No outsiders are allowed to see the grounds," Tyler said. "You'll get them off once we're there."

My parents and Roger stiffened, but Tyler said a few more things to calm them down a little.

We were marched through what felt like endless tunnels and factories.

Finally, Tyler's voice came again. "Alright, take them off."

The hoods were pulled away, and I blinked against the dim light.

Around me stood a dozen girls my age. Their bodies were bruised, their faces streaked with tears and fear.

Tyler pulled out his phone and dialed. "Mrs. Fuller, the girls are ready. You can come make your pick."

"Good. I'll be right there," came Margaret's voice on the other end.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

The sharp click of high heels echoed closer and closer.

Then the door swung open. Margaret's eyes met mine.

I wanted to cry out and ask her to save me, but with the gag over my mouth, all I managed was a muffled whimper.

Margaret hesitated, her brow furrowing. She pointed at me. "Who's this?"

"Oh, she just came in," Tyler said quickly. "Her family's right here. Once you sign, they'll get their money and be on their way."

My family bent their backs, nodding and greeting her with fake respect.

Margaret gave a curt nod, her eyes flicking over me. Then she shook her head.

"Send her to the winery. She's too skinny. I can't use her."

My chest tightened in terror.

The man running the winery hated me. If I ended up there, he would kill me even if he found out my real identity.

I collapsed in front of Margaret, looking up at her with a desperate, pleading gaze.

For the briefest second, something flickered in her eyes. She turned back to Tyler.

"Did you check her identity?"

Tyler nodded, signaling to Roger, who dug into his pocket and pulled out my ID.

"She looks fine enough. Sure, she's been beaten a little, but she'll do for the winery."

He handed the ID to Margaret.

The moment she held it, I saw her fingers tremble, her knuckles turning white.