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(Kid)(Napped)









(Kid)(Napped)
Dedicated to the young women I met who were kidnapped and raped.
By Dominic Brogsdale

Listen, my sons, to the instruction of a father; pay attention and gain understanding.
Proverbs 4:1

How many times have your parents told you not to do things, and the next thing you know, you go and do it, and your realized you shouldn’t have done it?
Michael Jordan

Guard yourself and your conscience no one else will and know that a bad decision at the right time can destroy you far more surely than any bullet!
James Clavell

Parents of a 13-year-old Nebraska girl who was kidnapped from Morton Middle School last week advise all parents to keep an eye on the apps their children download.
(Retrived from KETV 7: OMAHA)

One hundred four arrested in massive central Ohio trafficking, online child sex sting; among those chargeda medical doctor and a church youth director.
(Retrived from WBNS news; Columbus Ohio)

“I was trafficked to other billionaires. I was trafficked to politicians, professors, even royalty: it was the elite of the world. It was the people who run the world. It was the most powerful people in the world.”
Virginia Roberts Giuffre

                        (American Advocate, after her experience with Jeffery Epstein)                            (Retrieved from “Exposing Jeffery Epstein’s International Sex Trafficking Ring” by 60 Minutes Australia )                                                                                                                                                              





 Sixteen-year-old Jetta didn’t realize just how good she had it. Her parents had grown up in poverty, but those were just words she didn’t care to hear. She and her four siblings—two older brothers and two younger sisters—let their parents’ admonitions to study hard and work hard blow right over their heads. 

 In her room, Jetta divided her attention between talking online to random men and doing homework. She particularly liked chatting with a man whose identity was named “givemethatgoodgood69.” She’d connected with him months ago. As she worked her way through an algebra problem, chathead ”givemethatgoodgood69” popped up in the lower right corner of her computer monitor displaying a handsome face. The chat box read:“watz go ma, what chu doing?” 

 Jetta smiled from ear to ear, her beautiful brown face glowing and perfect white teeth shining. Fingers flying over the keyboard, she replied: “bored doing homework, what chu doing?” 

 “shit over here thinking about you,” givemethatgoodgood69 said. 

 Jetta let a puff of air escape from her nostrils, and she gleamed with pleased satisfaction. 

 “um hum ok, whatever!” she responded. 

 “you gonna show me a little somthen, somthen tonight? I'ma put you on video and text you,” givemethatgoodgood69 typed. 

 “maybe [cat emoji][heart emoji],” she texted. 

 “come on boo stop playing back that azz up!!!” givemethatgoodgood69 urged through text. 

 Jetta smiled, pleased by the man’s attention. She walked over to her small silver Bluetooth radio and turned on Juvenile’s “Back That Azz Up.” 

 “go head and shake it for a playa ma!” givemethatgoodgood69 typed. Watching the webcam the girl aimed at herself, he bit his bottom lip in greedy eagerness. 

 Jetta started moving her hips back and forth in rhythm with the beat, getting on the plush gray carpet and popping her watermelon-sized buttocks up. She stuck her tongue out. 

 “go head and get in that chair and pop it for a playa, show me something ma,” givemethatgoodgood69 texted. His picture in the corner of the screen showed him smiling. 

 Jetta pulled off her shirt and slowly took off her red bra. She twirled the undergarment, her pink tongue sticking out from between full lips coated with shiny gloss. 

 “drop dem panties, you know what to do, don't play wit’ me!” givemethatgoodgood69 urged. 

 Jetta smiled, then her expression turned serious and lusty. She rolled her task chair back to where her online lover could see her. She slid off her yoga pants, sat down, and hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her thong as if she were going to pull it down. With a quick smile, she put her index finger towards the screen, wagged it, and whispered, “No, no, no.” 

 “It's like that, huh? Okay, I'm signing off,” givemethatgoodgood69 said aloud, his voice carrying through the computer’s audio system. 

 Jetta smiled, pointed her index finger in the air, and sat back in her chair. She spun around a couple of times and faced the computer screen. She leaned back in the chair, stuck her tongue out, and slowly slid her thong toward her ankles. 

 “Yeah, that’s what I'm talking about. That’s sexy as fuck, take all that shit off!” givemethatgoodgood69 said, biting his lip. 

 Jetta quickly pulled her thong back up and started moving her pelvis up and down, biting down on her bottom lip as she gyrated in the chair. 

 “Don't do me like that, you playing with me,” givemethatgoodgood69 complained. 

 Tongue still poking between her lips, Jetta pulled the thong into the groove of her sex. 

 “fuuuuucccccccckkkk!!!” givemethatgoodgood69 texted. He closed his eyes in a slow blink, pinching the bridge of his nose and puffing his cheeks out. Mesmerized by the sexual display, he put his hand over his heart and tilted his head back in his seat. 

 Jetta lifted her legs up and slowly slid her thong to her knees. She had to yank a little harder on the silky thong, because it was wedged between the thick, moist labia. 

 givemethatgoodgood69 grunted and said aloud, “That’s heaven right there. A-yo, we partying tonight if you wanna come. Remember or write this address down: 6969 Wrongway Road, phone number 555-9648.” 

 Jetta nodded, staring at the address and telephone number. She took off her thong and let it dangle from her ankles. She began to move her buttocks in the seat, opening and closing her legs. The thong dropped to the floor between her feet. 

 “have you stripped before, got dammit, me and the homies will pay you,” givemethatgoodgood69 texted back, showing her a wad of $100 bills. 

 Jetta smiled and kept chair-dancing. She then swiveled the chair around and started jiggling her watermelon buttocks, turning back to look at him seductively. She raised her eyebrows. 

 “J-E-L-L-O, it’s alive,” givemethathoogood69 sang out, imitating an old Bill Cosby commercial. 

 She turned around to face the computer, bent down, and put her face to the carpet with her buttocks in the air. 

 givemethatgoodgood69 groaned, closed his eyes for a second, and spoke, “If you turn around, you will make my night, my week, my month, my year.” 

 With her face in the carpet, Jetta continued to shake her buttocks, not paying attention to his words. After a moment’s silence, she looked up saw that givemethatgoodgood69 was off the screen. 

 “Jetta!” a loud, commanding, authoritative voice barked. 

 “Ahh!” Jetta squealed. She scrambled around her room, trying to find some clothing to hide her shame. She finally jumped into bed and pulled the covers over her body. 

 When she looked up, her father was staring her down, as though someone had killed his mother. He walked away. Shaking, Jetta got up to shut the bedroom door. Shoving past the girl, her father entered the room like a tornado with a metal baseball bat. He tapped it on the ground like Larry Doby, Hank Thompson, or Willie “Homerun” Brown in the ninth inning, last to bat. He swung with everything he had in him, giving the computer screen an earthquake crack. Then he raised the bat over his head and, with all his might, swung it down onto the keyboard like Thor bringing down lighting. Enraged, he beat at the computer equipment until he was tired. 

 In terror, Jetta cowered in the corner as she watched the destruction. Breathing hard, her father directed his attention toward her, pointing the bat at her. “What did I tell you about talking to men on the internet, huh?” 

 Jetta trembled and didn't answer, instead pulling the soft black blanket off her bed to cover her naked body. 

 “You want your naked body to be put on the internet for the rest of your life? You want the whole world to see yo ass, huh?” her father shouted. She didn't answer. He got louder, “Do you hear me talking to you? I asked you a question, young lady!” 

 Jetta yelled out, “I'm almost eighteen, Daddy. I'm a grown woman.” 

 Raising his eyes, her father took a deep breath. Voice lowered, he hissed, “Oh, so you grown now? You grown because you about to be eighteen, and you shaking yo little ass for God who knows who?” 

 Jetta still trembled and her eyes teared. She did not respond and her father continued raging, slamming the bat into the wreckage of her desk every time he tried to make a point. 

 “Grown is taking care of your family. Grown is paying this bill and keeping a roof over your head. Grown is going to work every day and being responsible.” Setting the bat down, he lifted his hands up, slapped them on his thighs. He continued, “Jetta, do you know how hard your mother and I worked to get where we are today? My mother was a prostitute; your mother’s mother had twelve kids by twelve different baby daddies. How many times have I told you that story and what happened to them?” 

 Jetta mumbled, “Well, the pastor said Jesus healed the prostitute and told her to go sin no more.” 

 Her father eyes narrowed. He looked perplexed and said, “Jetta, what does that have to do with anything? On top of that, re-read the story, since you wanna get smart, in John 8:1.” He took another deep breath to calm himself, then changed the subject, “Now listen, what if you’re dealing with a predator, a psychopath, a sociopath, someone who has paranoid personality disorder, schizoid personality disorder, schizotypal personality, antisocial personality disorder, borderline personality disorder, histrionic personality disorder, avoidant personality disorder, or any type of disorder? Some of that type of people will manipulate you and game you up so fast, you won't even see it coming.” 

 Jetta rolled her eyes and smirked. “No disorder will get me.” 

 Her father’s lips twisted in fury at his daughter’s willful defiance. He rolled up his sleeves and said, “Okay, you wanna get smart, I'm the rapist. Try and get me off you.” 

 Her father darted towards her, whipped the blanket off her, grabbed her by the arms. He pinned her face down to the bed easily holding her while she yelped and struggled, then he shoved her naked body against the wall. Getting up in her face, he snarled, “I'm not even using my full strength. Go ahead and fight back, think about what someone who don't care about you would do to you!” 

 Further demonstrating what could happen if she got in the wrong hands, he pinned her back on the bed and spread her legs. She started to scream, “Daddy, stop! I get it! Stop, Daddy!” 

 In the middle of all the commotion, Jetta’s mother entered the room and smacked her father in the face. 

 “James, that's enough! You’re gonna scare the poor girl to death. That's not the way to handle things. Let me talk to her, woman to woman.” 

 Jetta's father climbed off the bed, let out a big sigh, and threw both hands in the air. ”All right, Netta, you talk to her, because I don't seem to be getting through.” He kicked the shattered electronics on the floor and stomped from the room. “Clean this mess up, and I'll see you downstairs for dinner.” 

 His wife and daughter heard him grumble as he headed down the stairs, “My dumb ass trusting her with a computer in the room. Knew I should have taken it out.” 

 Netta stared at her daughter, lips curled in a slight smile. “Girl, what is your problem? Why are you showing these little boys your tail? For some attention?” 

 Jetta raised her eyebrows. “Mom, you a woman, too, you know. Don't act like you didn’t do something like that either. I know you ain’t innocent.” 

 Netta’s small smile remained as she rolled her eyes at her daughter. “First of all, you don't know what I did; and, if I was doing all that, we wouldn’t be living how we’re living.” She paused and her expression turned serious. “Girl, you know how hard your father and I work to have what we have and put you in a decent neighborhood and then put you in private school for a good education?” 

 Jetta buried her face into the covers, already having had enough of embarrassment and parental lecturing. 

 Since her daughter didn’t bother to answer, Netta continued, trying to drive her points home, “Your father grew up in an abusive household. Not only did his mother walk around naked and bring random men in all the time, she would have sex with them throughout the house, no matter that he and his brothers and sisters saw it. Why do you think he don't have a relationship with his mother today? Why do you think he's so protective of you and your sisters? Not only does he talk to people like that as a counselor, but he has firsthand experience of how some men are.” Her tone and demeanor got more serious. “Do you hear what I'm saying to you?” 

 Again, Jetta didn’t respond. Her mother's voice echoed even louder, “Hello, young lady, I'm talking to you. Do you hear me?” 

 Jetta curled up amid the covers, rocking back and forth. Finally, she answered, her voice low, “Yes, ma'am.” 

 Netta held her daughter’s attention with a piercing look. “Let me tell you how sick some men or some people can be. I work as a loss prevention specialist, and I work with the police and correction officers. Let me tell you what they told me.” 

 Jetta turned big puppy dog eyes at her mother and mumbled, “What’s that?” 

 Netta closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then said, “A man ...” Disturbed, she paused and put her hand over her mouth. Then she quickly let it out: “A man raped a 4-week year old baby to the point of bleeding.” Netta took another deep breath and waved her hand in front of her face like a fan. She quoted a Bible verse from Luke 23:34, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” 

 She paused, shut her eyes, and put her hands over her mouth. 

 Jetta’s jaw dropped in pure disbelief. “Oh, my gosh, no, that didn't happen, did it?” 

 Netta noded, her eyes still closed. “Yes, it did, sweetheart. That’s why we’re so protective of you and your sisters, because there's some sick people out here.” 

 Jetta rocked back and forth. “What happened to the baby?” 

 Netta waved both hands. “I don't even wanna talk about it, it's so sick. That poor baby.” 

 Jetta’s face scrunched in sympathy and she murmured, “That poor baby.” 

 Netta sighed again. “I know, but back to the matter at hand. With all the sex trafficking going on, kidnappings, and people disappearing, you can never be too careful. Remember when y’all where younger and we said don't take candy from strangers and don't go too far down the block—just go down the street and that's it, and come in when the streets light go on? You can never be too careful, honey. Your father and I are speaking from firsthand experience.” 

 Jetta huddled in the covers. “Was your brothers like that, Mom?” 

 Netta turned her lip up and lowered her eyes before answering. “Girl, let me tell you like this: I grew up in a household full of brothers; and, let me tell you, that's all they talk about—women and schemes and plans on how they gonna get them some kitty cat, if you know what I'm saying. That's why your Uncle Larry got ten-something odd kids he can't take care of, because that's all he talked about was when he was gonna get some.” 

 She nudged her daughter’s knees with her elbow. 

 Jetta smiled, “I got you, Mom.” 

 Netta embraced her daughter, squeezing her tightly. “Girl, please don't be doing that unless you wanna be on the internet for the rest of your life, or something worse happens.” 

 Jetta sighed, “Sorry, Mom, I won't do it anymore.” 

 Netta gave her girl a little squeeze and said, “I hope you mean it, girl.” She released her daughter and looked her in the eye. “Get you a nice church boy or a nice Bible boy or something. That one boy is nice, what's his name?” 

 Jetta rolled her eyes. “Oh, you talking about Theo” 

 Netta smiled with encouragement. “What's wrong with him? He gets good grades, he's respectable, he's polite, has good manners ...” 

 Jetta rolled her eyes and cut her off, “He's also a lame, a square, and a cornball, so, no, Mom. And he reminds me of Dad, and he's too nice.” 

 Netta shook her head. “Oh, I see, you like them thugs, bad boys, and gangsters. Well, let me tell you this before I go.” She raised her eyebrows high and glared at her daughter. “You might be in it for the thrill, and they may seem like fun and games, but it's not gonna be so fun when you get stuck with a baby, dealing with baby mama drama, or you one of the side pieces. And when you hit forty years old with three, four, five-something kids and now you wanna find a good man, it's gonna be too late.” Netta rapidly blinked her eyes, “Hello, young lady, do you hear me?” 

 Jetta sighed, “Yes, Mama, I hear you.” 

 Netta stared at her as if she were looking into her daughter’s soul. “If you don't believe me, go listen to Alexis K. Taylor.” 

 Jetta tilted her head back and squinted her eyes. “Who?” 

 “Alexis K. Taylor on YouTube, she'll tell you how some men are.” 

 Jetta frowned again. “That crazy, light-skinned lady that says all that crazy stuff?” 

 Netta raised her eyebrows again. “What would you rather have, sugary sweet and a lie, or harsh and raw but telling the truth?” Jetta didn’t respond. Netta tapped her daughter’s leg. “On that note, put some clothes on, come on down for dinner, and, girl, please behave yourself. You’re better than that.” 

 She hopped off the girl’s bed and walked downstairs to the kitchen. Jetta remained curled under the covers, her knees tucked into her chest as she stared at the carpet and thought about everything that had just happened and her father seeing her with her butt in the air. A loud ringing echoed through the house. 

 “Kids, come and eat!” her mother shouted. 

 Jetta sighed. She walked over to her dresser, not bothering to shut the bedroom door. 

 Her 14-year-old sister Joy walked in and said, “I heard the commotion. You okay?” 

 Slowing putting on sweatpants, Jetta replied in a grudging tone, “Yeah, I'm fine, thanks.” 

 Joy walked over and started flapping her hand underneath her breast, repeating, “Titties, titties, titties, titties, titties, titties.” 

 Annoyed, Jetta pushed her away. “Stop. Why you always playing?” 

 Joy switched to making popping sounds with her mouth and patting her breasts. “Because playing is fun.” Jetta shoved her again and her sister let loose with a barrage of questions, “Why yours so big? What are those, D, E, F? Mine are B. Are you doing it to some guy? Is it making your hormones rage? Is that why they’re so big?” 

 Irritated, Jetta shoved her again and put on her shirt. “Oh, my goodness, you are so annoying.” 

 Jetta put her house shoes on and headed downstairs where her other sister, Vina, was sitting at the kitchen table. Following Jetta downstairs, Joy took a seat next to her. Their older brothers, Tayvon and Jassen, rushed down the stairs with a clatter of thumping feet. Tayvon jumped over the couch and Jassen threw the football to him. Tayvon caught it, bumping into the table with a loud thud. 

 “Touchdown! Score two hundred and something to seven!” he shouted. 

 Hearing the noise, their mother glared and pointed at them. “Listen, y’all, break my stuff, I'ma break ya ass. What I tell y’all about running in the house and throwing things? Take that outside.” 

 Tayvon and Jassen straightened up and walked to their mother. Both kissed her on the cheek and said, “Sorry, Ma, you know we love you.” 

 Netta’s cheeks darkened with a blush, but her stern expression didn’t change. “Uh huh, don't suck up. Y’all know better. Now go sit down so y’all can eat.” 

 The boys sat down. 

 When all the kids were seated around the table, both parents finally sat down. James was exhausted from work and still angry with Jetta. Dealing with his five adolescents was taking its toll. He rubbed his forehead—a sure sign of a headache—and tried to hold a smile. “Tayvon, can you say grace tonight?” 

 “Yes, sir, Pops, I can do that for you,” Tayvon replied. 

 James reached his hands out. Everyone connected, held hands, bowed their heads, and closed their eyes. Tayvon cleared his throat and said, “Dear God, thank you for this food today that our parents provided. I know they work hard for this food. And thank you for this leg, Lord, on and under the table.” 

 Tayvon opened one eye, looking at Jetta. Jetta scowled at him. Jassen puffed his cheeks out, but made no noise because he knew his brother was talking about Jetta. 

 Tayvon continued, “Thank you for always being good, with a good family, and as a hoe.” 

 Jetta bit down on her bottom lip, glaring at Tayvon. Jassen couldn’t contain his laughing, so he pretended to sneeze: “Achoo!” 

 Seemingly unaware of the subtext, their parents murmured, “Bless you.” 

 Jassen smiled and looked at Jetta. “Excuse me, may I go? I need to blow my nose.” 

 Looking at both her brothers, Jetta mouthed, “Fuck both of you.” 

 Tayvon opened one eye, then closed it. Opening it again, he said, “Bless you. Yes, go blow, bro.” 

 Head bowed and not knowing the inside joke, their mother murmured, “Yes, go blow. Continue, Tayvon.” 

 Tayvon cleared his throat longer than usual, opening his mouth wide and looking at Jetta. He then continuing praying, “Excuse me, y’all, must’ve been something in my throat … but thank you, God, for always blessing us with the beautiful sun—” he opened one eye to look at his silently fuming sister and smiled “—and the refreshing rain that bring new life. Some of us just love that refreshing white rain on our face. Thank you, Lord.” 

 Jassen pretended to sneeze again, turning his face away from his parents. Tayvon patted him on the back, grinned at Jetta, and said, “Go blow a bro, go blow.” 

 “Amen, y’all,” Tayvon said. 

 Jassen ran upstairs, pretending to sneeze. 

 Everybody at the table intoned, “Amen!” 

 Netta took the bowl of mashed potatoes and said as she dished a serving onto her plate, “Good prayer, honey.” 

 Tayvon flashed another mocking grin at Jetta and replied, “Thank you, Ma, I try to give my fellow men the best.” 

 He winked at his sister. Jetta whispered under her breath, her voice carrying no further than his ears, “Asshole.” 

 Jassen returned downstairs and rejoined his family at the table. Conversation was minimal while everyone passed bowls and platters of crispy fried chicken, buttery mashed potatoes and gravy, salty green beans, and savory corn on the cob. James cut the tender chicken thigh on his plate, and taking a bite, complimented the cook, “Honey, this meal is where it's at, good as always.” 

 Netta smiled, “Thank you, Bea. I used some new spices, the original KFC spices.” 

 They started to laugh, but their children didn’t find the joke that funny. 

 Netta looked at Jassen. “How was your day today, honey?” 

 Jassen took a big bite from a crispy drumstick, looked at Jetta, and replied with his mouth full, deliberately displaying the half-chewed food. “We had fun playing with balls.” 

 Tayvon’s cheeks puffed out and he cleared his throat to mask his laughter. Their mother bit a piece of chicken, chewed, swallowed, then said, “I can't understand you. Don't talk with your mouth full.” 

 Tayvon finished chewing and swallowed his food, all the while looking at Jetta. He closed his fist and made a small circle, pretending that he was clearing his throat, but really making sexual jokes. “Oh, I said I was playing ball, Mom, ball. We won, and I shot it super high for the game. It was a deep, deep three, Mom, and it went—bam!—right in that hoe.” 

 He made “hoe” sound like “hole.” 

 He glanced back and forth between his mother and Jetta. Jassen’s shoulders shook with restrained laughter. Jetta stared her brothers down, lips pursed as she held in her hurt from her brothers picking on her. 

 Netta raised her eyebrows. “That's my baby, making game winners.” She focused her attention on Jassen and asked, “How about you, Jassen? How was your day, baby?” 

 Jassen, being comical and jovial, answered, “Oh, it was good, Mom. I was in science class and we had to dissect this fish.” 

 He glanced between his mother and oldest sister. Netta frowned in confusion and echoed, “A fish. I never heard of that, maybe a frog or something, but not a fish. Anyway, go ahead. What did y’all do?” 

 Still being comical, he replied, “Oh, Mom, let me tell you, I was all in the gut, and it was smelly, nasty, stinky. I don't see why anybody could wanna be around or—” he directed his gaze at Jetta “—see something so stinky.” 

 Jetta’s temper flared like a volcano. She grabbed a handful of mashed potatoes from her plate and flung it at her brothers, shouting, “You like refreshing white stuff in your face!” She grabbed some drumsticks and threw them at Tayvon and Jassen who dodged the greasy missiles. “Here, take this meat, too, while you at it!” 

 James shouted, “Jetta!” 

 “Jetta, what is your problem, girl?” their mother demanded as she bristled in anger at the disrespectful treatment of the food she’d cooked for them. 

 Consumed with anger, Jetta grabbed a handful of green beans in one hand and the pitcher of juice in the other and hurled them at her brothers. James’ chair toppled over as he jumped to his feet, lunged toward his oldest daughter, and grabbed her hand. 

 Wrenching her hand free, Jetta cried, “You’re supposed to be the big psychologist and counselor, but you can't see they was making fun of me the whole time!” She looked at Tayvon and Jassen, then back at her mother and father. “How about y’all talk about the girls y’all sneak into the house? And, Dad, how about you talk about the affairs …” she paused then continued, “… the affairs you been having? I seen you put a woman in your car over on Parsons Avenue, looking real nervous. You probably mess with them because your grandma wasn't shit. That's psychology for your—” 

 The crack of flesh striking flesh resounded in the room. 

 Jetta gasped, putting her hand to her stinging cheek where her father had smacked her. He put his left hands on his hip and pointed his right hand at her face. His voice, cold and furious, filled the air. “I'm your father. You watch how you talk to me. Secondly, get your facts straight before you accuse me of something.” 

 A tear formed in Jetta’s eye, and she bolted upstairs to the bathroom. As she examined her face in the mirror, she heard her parents downstairs arguing over her father slapping her. She couldn't believe her father struck her. The last time he’d disciplined her, she was little and he’d only yelled at her for foolish behavior. 

 Unwilling to admit to her own recent foolishness and feeling unjustly chastised, she muttered, “I'm going to that party, I’m tired of Daddy always keeping me locked away in the house.” 

 She removed her clothes, took a quick shower, dried off with a towel, and went to her room to dress in her sexiest party clothes. Tiptoeing through the mess on the floor, she found the piece of paper on which she’d written the address for the party. She put it on her dresser, then, standing unclothed in front of mirror, she applied herself to putting on her makeup: powder, eye liner, and shiny red lipstick. She heard a gentle tap at the door as she rubbed her freshly glossed lips together. 

 “Go away,” Jetta yelled. 

 “It's me and Joy,” Vina announced. 

“I said, go away,” Jetta yelled out more aggressively. 

 Vina opened the door and entered, Joy behind her. They shut the door because Jetta was naked and plopped down on her bed. 

 “Oh, my God, y’all are so annoying,” Jetta griped. “What do y’all want?” 

 Vina met her gaze with concern and replied, “We just came to see how you were doing, is all.” 

 Putting on another shade of eyeshadow, Jetta responded, “Thank you for asking. I'm fine.” 

 Joy wiggled her feet back and forth and tapped them together. Watching her sister apply cosmetics, she said, “We just wanted to see if you was okay, because Tayvon and Jassen are mean to us sometimes, and Daddy always keeps us locked up in the house. He mad right now.” 

 Jetta met both sisters’ eyes in the mirror and snarled, “Fuck Daddy, I'm leaving.” 

 “Where you going?” Vina asked. 

 Jetta, looking at the results of her efforts in the mirror, replied, “To a party.” 

 Joy jumped up. “Oh, can we go?” 

 “No,” Jetta said bluntly. 

 Vina grumbled, “Why not?” 

 Jetta tilted her face to make sure her makeup looked good from all angles and replied, “Because y’all too young.” 

 Vina’s expression turned mulish. “Seriously? I'm only a year younger than you, and Joy is just a year younger than me.” 

 “The answer is still no,” Jetta said. 

 “Daddy!” Joy called out. 

 Jetta slammed her palm down on the dresser and turned to glare at her sisters. “So, you really gonna try and blackmail me?” 

 Joy smiled with feigned innocence and said, “If you can't beat ’em, join ’em; if you can’t join ’em, bribe ’em; if you can't bribe ’em, blackmail ’em.” 

 Jetta wondered if it was it smart to go to the party by herself, or even to go at all. She wanted to take a chance and she wanted to rebel. Her sense of injustice inspired a new surge of anger. They don’t give me the freedom I deserve, even though I’m not a little kid anymore. And Dad smashed my computer and smacked me in the face. She considered the pros and cons of bringing her sisters with her. They’re annoying, but there’s safety in numbers, right? And it’ll be fun. 

 She put her hands on her hips, looked towards the ceiling, and sighed. “All right, y’all can go. I'm leaving in fifteen minutes, so shower and wear something sexy.” 

 Squealing with joy, Vina and Joy jumped off the bed and embraced their oldest sister. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

 “Okay, y’all can get off of me now,” Jetta said, once again annoyed. 

 Joy tapped her right and left breasts four times, each time giggling and saying, “Thank you, thank you!” 

 Jetta tilted her head back and mumbled, “So annoying.” 

 She turned her attention to styling her hair, then donned a red thong and matching bra. She looked at the endless bottles of scented body spray her father gave her for her birthday, running her fingers over the them and mumbling, “Let's see … let's see, here cucumber melon, pink chiffon, sugar plum swirl, twilight woods … ah, how about dark kiss.” 

 She smoothed a cocoa butter lotion over her silky brown skin, then spritzed herself with the body spray. Jetta took a moment to admire her glossy skin in the mirror, then pulled out a red skirt and shirt she kept ready for parties. As she dressed, she heard a knock and her sisters walked in. 

 Jetta looked them over and said, “Um, what do y’all have on? Y’all not going anywhere with me looking like that.” 

 Both girls wore wrinkled blue jeans, wrinkled t-shirts with their school logo on it, and pink athletic shoes. 

 “I said sexy, not sloppy,” Jetta said with obvious disappointment in her sisters’ fashion sense. 

 Vina stomped, tilted her head back, and grumbled, “That's right, you did say sexy. Stand up and let me see how you look.” 

 Jetta stood up and twirled like a Disney princess, saying, “This is sexy, girls.” 

 Joy watched in admiration. “Whoo, pretty. Okay, we know what to do.” 

 Her sister turned to leave. Before they did, Jetta looked at her collection of lotions and body sprays and thought to herself, Which one don't I care for? She picked the cucumber melon scented one and tossed it to Joy, saying, “Here, catch!” 

 Joy reached for it and fumbled. It dropped on the carpet. 

 Jetta pursed her lips and remarked in a snide tone, “And you wanna play basketball for the school.” She paused, then ordered, “Go rub that on and make sure y’all ain't ashy.” 

 “Okay,” Joy said as both sisters rushed off. 

 Jetta looked at herself in the full-length mirror positioned in the corner of her room, checking every inch of her brown body to make sure her clothes looked good, her hair looked pressed and glossy, and her outfit was wrinkle-free. She turned around, put her finger in her mouth, and started twerking. 

 “Yo,” Tayvon announced his presence outside her door, then seeing what his sister was doing, he started laughing. 

 “Ahh!” Startled, Jetta jumped, put her hand over her chest, stomped her right foot, and stormed towards her door. “You are an asshole. I swear I hate you.” 

 She tried to slam the door shut, but Tayvon blocked it with his foot and popped his head in. With a slick smile, he said, “Yo, I just wanted to say sorry for picking on you earlier. You know I love you.” 

 Not believing in his sincerity, Jetta threw him a look of disgust and replied, “Okay, thanks, you can go now.” 

 Tayvon lowered his eyebrows, suspicion dawning. “Where you going anyway, all dressed up and looking good?” 

 Giving him a stony look, Jetta answered, “None of your business. Now goodbye.” 

 She slammed the door against his foot back. 

 “I know you up to no good again. What Dad tell you?” her brother demanded. 

 Sneering, Jetta looked him up and down, and snapped, “Fuck you and fuck Daddy. Now goodbye.” 

 Tayvon locked a hand around the door and used his strength to hold it open. Giving her a serious look, he said, “I heard everything earlier. Dad right, you know. You gotta watch some of these dudes on the internet, and some in general.” 

 Jetta’s upper lip curled. “Like girls need to watch you, just because you a little football star and you be sneaking them into the house. Okay, thanks for the info, Mr. Hypocrite.” 

 Tayvon shrugged. “Okay, you got me there, but, hey, I'm big bro and I'm telling you because I'm tryna protect you. Although I may pick on you, I don't wanna see nothing happen to you.” 

 He puckered his lips and making kissing sounds and closed his eyes. 

 Jetta pushed against the door, but it wouldn't budge because he was too strong. “Would you go, please? I don't want no kiss from you. I don't know how many cooties you got on yo lips.” 

 Tayvon licked his palm and smeared his saliva across Jetta’s face and forehead. Dashing away, he called out in a mocking tone, “Love you, be careful out there!” 

 Jetta wanted to scream, but didn’t want her mother and father to hear her. She buried her face in the covers on her bed and screamed into the muffling fabric. Returning to her place in front of the mirror, she used her damp bath towel to wipe off her brother’s spit. She heard a knock at the door and growled, “Tayvon, if you don't do leave me alone, I swear—” 

 “It's us.” Joy announced calmly. 

 “Come in,” Jetta invited. 

 Joy looked Jetta up and down and wiggled her fingers. She pursed her lips and complimented her older sister, “Whoo-whoo, fabulous, girl.” 

 Jetta puckered her lips and curtsied. Pleased with her sister’s admiration, she smiled and said, “Thank you, thank you, girl.” 

 She walked towards her sisters. They stood at attention for inspection. Both girls wore long, matching red sundresses. Their makeup was done to perfection. Their thick black hair was curled. They wore simple ballet flats. Jetta slithered around them like a snake on a tree, sniffing their necks. Joy and Vina snickered. She smelled cucumber melon on their skin. Jetta squatted and took a big whiff of their groins. Her sisters giggled nervously. Getting back up quickly, she looked at them and explained, “Y’all good. I just had to make sure y’all heifers’ coochies don't stink.” 

 Joy rolled her eyes. “We’re not doing anything like that, are we?” 

 Jetta's eyes narrowed. “Doing what?” 

 Joy raised her eyebrows and asked, “Well, having sex?” 

 Jetta started dancing, snapping her fingers and twerking. “Shoot, girl, we might!” 

 Disturbed by the answer, Joy’s expression went blank. “I thought we was just dancing and stuff.” 

 Jetta sighed with disappointment. Her sisters were so literal. “Girl, are you serious? We just gonna have a couple of drinks, have a good time, and dance with a guy or two—nothing serious.” Jetta’s gaze darted back and forth between her sisters. “Don't try to play innocent, either. I know about y’all few or two boy toys y’all had here and there.” 

Joy raised her eyebrows and snapped, “Um, no tongues and fingers for the both of us, nothing super crazy like you. I know your body count high.” 

 Jetta pursed her lips and shook her head. “Um, don't get smart. I had two or few, thank you. Get it right.” 

 Joy smacked her lips, then drawled, “Whatever.” 

 Jetta sighed and patted her hair. “Okay, we dressed and ready. Who gonna be the fall guy for checking to see if Mom and Dad are downstairs?” 

 Vina looked at the clock. “It's ten o’clock now. Mom and Dad are in bed, probably.” 

 “It's ten already? Dinner was, like, eight o’clock. Time flying,” Jetta said, glancing at the clock. “Well, go check real fast.” 

 Vina crept downstairs. Their father was sitting on the couch, snoring like a bear in hibernation, a Psychology Today magazine in his lap and half a cup of whiskey on ice balanced on his knee. The 65-inch television blared an ESPN broadcast showing the highlights of an upcoming basketball player named Gary Trent, Jr. who scored a 40-point game. Vina tiptoed back upstairs, reported what she saw, and whispered to her sisters, “Daddy asleep in his chair. You want me to wake him and put him in his bed or leave him there?” 

 Jetta pursed her lips thinking about what she wanted to do. After a moment, she murmured, “Daddy must be really stressed out to be drinking; he did that AA stuff a long time ago.” Looking at her sisters, she instructed, “No, leave Daddy there, because you know when Daddy gone, he gone, and he ain't waking up. We only going out for an hour or two and coming back home. Make sure you grab keys, deactivate the alarm, and leave one of the windows unlocked in the basement and stuff. Put some clothes underneath the covers just in case they check our rooms.” 

 Vina looked at Joy. “You get the downstairs and I'll take care of the rooms.” 

 “Got it,” Joy replied and rushed downstairs. 

 Jetta grabbed her cell phone and dialed the number that givemethatgoodgood69 gave her earlier. The phone rang three times. A man answered, “Hello?” 

 A little nervous because she didn’t know whom she was talking to, Jetta replied, “A-yo, is this 69 I was talking to earlier online?” 

 The man asked, “Who dis?” 

 “Remember me from earlier, sweethoneychocolate7?” 

 The man got excited. “Oh, yeah, what’s up wit’ you? You coming through? We got drinks, party bumping, me and a bunch of people chilling, you know. You got the address?” 

 Jetta’s heart raced. “Yeah … um ... 6969 Wrongway Road, right?” 

 “Yup, you got it.” 

 “I'm bringing my sisters, too. They a little bit younger than me, that cool?” Jetta asked. 

 “Cool, cool, bring ’em through. We just having a good time is all.” 

 “Gotta make sure my sisters safe,” Jetta said, injecting a stern tone into her voice. 

 “Come on, how long we been talking online now? We friends, ain't we? You seen my face, I gave you my address,” he said. 

 Still nervous, Jetta ignored the bad tingling in her gut. All the conversations her parents had about listening to her gut and not doing something if it didn’t feel right came to mind. That annoyed her. 

 The man’s persuasive voice flowed like sweet honey over the connection. “Yeah, we've known each other for a while. You've seen my body and I seen yours. What you scared of?” 

 “Nothing, I'm coming through,” Jetta replied, unable to quiet that internal warning, but determined to ignore it. She deserved to have fun. She was tired of her parents treating her like a stupid little girl. 

 The man spoke again to put her at ease. “Listen, if you wanna come, come. If you don't, then you don't. It's up to you. Either way, we getting our smoke and drink on.” 

 Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Jetta murmured, “All right, we on our way.” 

 “Okay, cool. What whip you got, so I can make sure you and your sisters are safe, because you know it's dark out. I mean y’all will be fine, just wanna be on the lookout,” he said, showing a gentlemanly concern that reassured her. 

 “I drive a 2010 silver Nissan, and good looking out,” she replied. 

 “You ballin’ like that, you must come from money? Well, cool. We’ll be on the lookout.” 

 Jetta’s eyes narrowed. “My dad and mom have good jobs. What do you mean by we?” 

 He chuckled and said, “You know what I mean. I'll see you when I see.” 

 He hung up and Jetta stared at the gray carpet, having second thoughts. Her father’s voice echoed in her head, and something in her gut didn't feel right. 

 Vina snapped her fingers at her to get her attention. “You ready?” 

 Putting on a brave front, Jetta replied, “Yeah, girl, I'm ready to do this.” 

 Vina knew her sister well and could tell that something had changed. “What's wrong, girl? You okay?” 

 Jetta smiled with forced enthusiasm and said, “Yeah, I'm fine, let's go.” 

 She grabbed her car keys and cell phone, leading the way downstairs. They sneaked like cats, watching their father snore from a distance. 

 “Where y’all going?” Jassen asked in a loud voice, taunting them for sneaking. 

 All three girls shrieked. 

 “Asshole,” Jetta muttered under her breath, looking at him then at their father. 

 “I'm telling Mom and Dad,” Jassen declared, just loudly enough so their father might hear him. Jetta leveled a death stare at him. He grinned and said, “Psych! Nah, where y’all going though, looking like hoes?” 

 “To a party,” she answered, knowing she’d go nowhere if she didn’t give him answers. 

 “To a party?” 

 Jetta looked at her father and back at him. “Yeah.” 

 “You better be careful out there. It's what …” Jassen glanced at the clock on the wall, “… ten-thirty-something at night and you going to a party? Who is it?” 

 “None of your business. You wasn't invited.” 

 “Daddy,” Jassen called out, smiling. 

 Jetta shot another death stare at him. “You are such an asshole, I swear.” 

 “Tell me then,” Jassen commanded. 

 “Sixty-nine sixty-nine Wrongway Road. Now leave me alone, asshole,” she hissed. 

 He chuckled and shook his head. “I know where Wrongway Road is. You going to the ’hood; you ain't ready for that life. You a rich girl, ’bout to go hang out with some rat niggas.” 

 “Better than this boring suburb that Mom and Dad got us cooped up in,” she retorted. 

 “Dad and Mom told you them family horror stories about growing up. Uncle Jimmy sold and was on crack. Daddy was pimpin’ his mom and the sister somehow, and banging them out, and he got the sister pregnant. I have no idea how something like that happens.” He spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders. “You know about mom's brothers. Uncle Harry was on heroin. Uncle Tony did three years in prison, got out, did seven years, got out for two years, and went back in for God knows what. And Grandma got pregnant by Uncle Johnny. Why you think they so strict on us, and why you think they psychologist and criminologist or whatever it is they do?” 

 Jetta lowered her eyes and scoffed, “You really believe Mom and Dad’s fairy tales? They tell us that to scare us and keep us locked away in this house.” 

 Jassen raised one eyebrow. “I don't think Mom and Dad would lie about something like that. I think Dad really went through some real shit and probably things he ain't tell us, that’s why he be shaking and he real strict about alcohol in the house and he be zoning out half the time. That's why he went into the military—to get out of all that mess—and we don't hear from his side of the family that much, because they all crazy. Same with Mom. Could you imagine growing up like they did?” 

 Jetta rolled her eyes and beckoned her sisters, “Let's go.” 

 Seeing his sisters’ determination to go where they ought not, Jassen tried to dissuade them one more time. “You ain't listening. Don't get fucked up out there, because I'm not saving y’all.” 

 The girls slipped out the front door and ran to the car. Joy jumped in and slammed the car door. 

 “Girl, don't slam the door so Mommy and Daddy can hear us,” Jetta admonished with a fearful glance toward the house. 

 Joy giggled. “Sorry.” 

 Jetta glanced at her review mirror and sped off to into the night. As she drove, she mustered her defiance, courage, and enthusiasm, clapping, dancing, and singing over and over again, “Hey, we going on a road trip, we going on a road trip, we going on a road trip.” 

 In the back seat, her sisters joined in, clapping their hands and swaying to the beat. Jetta parked the car along the curb and typed the address into the GPS app on her cell phone. She smiled and said, “It's twenty-five minutes out and it looks like it in the city” 

 Joy looked up. “I've never been into the city before, well a couple times with Daddy.” 

 Looking at her phone, Jetta admitted, “Me neither, really.” 

 Vina reached over the front seat and tapped Jetta’s shoulder. “Girl, turn some music on.” 

 Jetta pressed the Bluetooth on her car and said, “Play Big Sean remix, Dance Ass remix with Nicki Minaj.” 

 The music started playing and the girls started screaming, lifting their arms and singing along. They moved around so much, the car shook as they bounced and wiggled and chanted, “Ass, ass, ass!” 

 Vina and Joy put their hands on top of the back seat and their knees on the seat. They turned around and started twerking as they sang. The loud sound of flatulence filled the car. Both girls dropped back to their seats, grabbing their buttocks and giggling loudly. 

 Jetta rolled down the window and shouted, “You nasty bitch!” 

 The three of them laughed. Joy kept giggling, a blush darkening her skin. “It was an accident!” 

 Jetta smiled, wind blowing in her thick black hair, and shouted back at her sister, “You is always a goofy bitch.” 

 The girls laughed. 

 When they made it to Wrongway Road, the girls face frowned. Vina stuck her tongue out, made a gagging noise, then complained, “It's a dump out here: kids playing outside in the middle of the night, homeless people on the ground, people smoking on the corner. The apartment or whatever this place is looks run down. Jetta, who we meeting again?” 

 “Where are we?” Joy squinted, trying to read the big, dark sign. She read aloud as she deciphered the words through the peeling paint and lack of illumination, “Nickerson Garden Project.” 

 “Hey, hey, a-yo, a-yo” a man greeted them, looking at Jetta. 

 Jetta looked back at him, squinting. “Oh, that's him, the guy that's hosting the party.” 

 Pow! 

 The girls flinched at the unexpected, loud noise. A man in a black mask shot out the front left tire. The girls screamed. The man that flagged Jetta down clapped another man's hand, and gave him a one-armed hug, and walked off. Three black vans emblazoned with signs that read “Fix Her Pipes Handymen” blocked them off. 

 Terrified, Jetta froze and chanted, “Oh my God, oh my God, Oh my God … what's happening? What's going on?” 

 Joy and Vina curled on the back seat and held each other. 

 “Jetta, what's going on? What's happening?” they cried. 

 Jetta shifted the car into DRIVE and tried to drive off. 

 Pow! 

 The masked man shot the other front tire out. The three vans surrounded them from the back, the side, and the front, trapping the car against the curb. 

 Tears in her eyes, Joy cried out, “Jetta, what's going on? I'm scared, what's happening?” 

 The masked man went to the driver’s side and pointed the gun at Jetta. “Get the fuck out, bitch.” 

 Jetta froze like a fish stuck in ice. 

 Pow! 

 Glass shattered and the girls screamed again, cowering away from the shards of glass. 

 “Nigga, I told you the tires, not the muthafuckin’ window. We can fix the tires, but not window,” another masked man yelled from the van in front of the car. 

 The gunman took his mask off, shrugged, and said, “My bad, family.” 

 The man in the front van in the exhaled a gusty sigh and said, “Dummy, don't take your mask off either. You know what, just get back in the van.” 

 The gunman ran back to the van and other masked men came out, rolling tires to the front of Jetta's car. Three men came from the van blocking the street side of her car. Another six men jumped out of third van. They, too, were masked and they pointed pistols at Jetta's car. 

 All three girls gaped in fear, speechless. The men opened the car doors and grabbed the girls. Being touched galvanized them into resistance. They kicked, screamed, and cried, squirming like worms on fishing hooks, not knowing what was going to happen, but knowing it was going to be bad. The men easily overpowered the girls as they dragged them to the back of a van. 

 The men tossed the girls inside where three more men grabbed them, held them by their necks, and put rags soaked in chloroform over their faces. The girls continued to struggle as the chemical overwhelmed their senses. The rags absorbed their tears as the van’s driver started the engine and shifted it into gear. Jetta's vision blurred, scrambling like an old black and white television, as she watched her sisters succumb. She pushed weakly at the strong arm restraining her, then her hands dropped as the masked men and her sisters faded out. 

 Jetta wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she began to wake up. Her belly churned, her vision was blurry, a headache throbbed behind her eyes, and her arms and shoulders screamed with pain. Her face felt puffy and raw. She realized her arms where raised, a thick brown rope wrapped around her wrists. She hung from a pulley overhead. She blinked in confusion and convulsed as nausea erupted, ejecting vomit onto the floor. Shaking and clammy with sweat, she realized she was not alone. Noises drew her attention to her sister Vina. 

 Her sister lay on an old stained mattress. A black cloth had been stuffed into her mouth, an effective gag muffling the screams that filtered through the cloth. Naked, she kicked and struggled against the man on top of her. Turning away from the horror, Jetta looked around and discerned she and her sister were in a big, abandoned warehouse. Cool air wafted through broken windows high above. Decrepit machines reeked of oil and dust. The place smell of old wood, metal, sweat, and despair. 

 Jetta looked again at her sister and her heart jumped. She cried out, her voice hoarse, “Vina! Vina!” 

 Pausing in her struggle, Vina met her gaze through the corner of her eye. Tears trickled down to the filthy mattress. Defiance sparked and she started kicking and screaming again, though the sound was muffled by the gag. A line of men, wearing ski masks and cruel smiles, waited for their turn at Vina and made crude jokes about what they were going to do to her. Jetta lurched to go to her sister’s aid, but the ropes binding her prevented that. She squirmed to free herself, staring in disbelief at what was going on around her. Another noise captured her attention and she remembered that she’d brought her other sister into this disaster, too. She swiveled to see Joy in the shadows, being held by two masked men. She closed her eyes against the horror. 

 One of the men near Vina clapped his hands and rubbed them together. With a sinister smile, he announced, “Fresh meat right here, fellas. I go first this time. We got order around here.” 

 He pushed his pants down, flopped down on the crusty mattress, and went for Vina's neck. 

 “What are you doing? Stop it!” Jetta yelled. 

 Vina’s wild kicking made contact. The man grunted more from annoyance than pain. The man looked at his fellow gang member and barked, “A-yo hold this bitch’s legs down, so I can get up in there deep.” 

 Another man darted forward, a length of rope in his hands, and wrenched one of Vina’s legs down. With appalling efficiency, he tied her ankle to the rusty bed frame. Another man did the same with the girl’s other leg. 

 Helpless, panicked, and horrified, Jetta screamed, “No!” 

 Sour saliva tasting of bile bubbled from her mouth and dribbled down her neck as she watched the man violate her sister. The man bit his bottom lip and grunted as he thrust his hips as hard as he could. The skin-on-skin contact made loud smacking sounds. Vina’s veins popped out of her neck; tears and mascara dripped on to the filthy mattress, 

 “Damn, this muthafucka good, y’all,” the man said between grunts as he forcibly penetrated the girl as hard and fast as he could. 

 One of the other men swung his arms back and forth and blurted, “Shit, hurry up. I'm tryna get in there, too. That shit look tighter than a muthafucka!” 

 He looked at the other gang members who nodded and grinned with eager impatience. 

 Another man, smiling, agreed with him. “Hell yeah, I'm tryna hit that young shit.” 

 “Stop it!” Jetta yelled again. 

 The loud crack of flesh striking flesh came a split second before pain exploded in her face as another masked man backhanded her. He grabbed her by the chin, looked her in the eyes, and growled, “Shut the fuck up, bitch. You next, then we shipping you bitches overseas. Y’all worth about six figures.” 

 He shoved her face away to the left and then slapped her again with his right hand. 

 The force of the blow smacked Jetta’s head on the cold steel pillar to which the pulley she was tied was attached. She wept. Her hands and arms burned from the strain of supporting her weight. That pain made her wonder just how long she’d been like that. Her helpless position reminded her of Jesus on the cross on one of her father’s pictures hanging on the basement wall with a scripture at the bottom reading: “Luke 23:34: Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” 

 She closed her eyes and bawled a simple prayer, “Jesus, help us.” she said. Tears, hot and salty, dripped to the floor. 

 The man who struck her still stood next to her, watching the brutality take place. Sparing her a dismissive glance, he said, “Bitch, shut the fuck up. Jesus ain't coming to save yo ass. You should’ve thought about that before you was hoe'n.” 

 Jetta turned her head away, her father warnings echoing in her mind. 

 “I should have listened,” she whispered. 

 She thought about her father and everything he told her about predators: psychopaths, sociopaths, and all the different disorders. She couldn't remember which “path” or disorder was what, but she knew enough to know that the men around her were criminals. They cared nothing about her and her sisters, their fear or their pain. She didn’t know what kind of disorder explained what they did to her and her sisters, but she finally recognized evil when she saw it. 

 Jetta raised her head and opened one eye, because she couldn’t bear to see what was happening to her sister and she couldn’t bear to look away. The man abusing Vina ejaculated in her face. No longer having the will to scream, the girl shut her eyes and shook her head back and forth. Jetta slumped, then looked up one more time and counted fifteen men waiting to rape her sister. She wanted to bawl again, but sniffled quietly instead because she didn’t want to draw the attention of the man who smacked her. Over her tears, she overheard the man who raped her sister say, “Man, that shit was good. I think I took her virginity, homie.” 

 Another man responded, “Why you ain't cum in her, homie?” 

 The first laughed and answered, “Shit, I wasn’t thinking. I'm so used to pulling out on bitches, I wasn't thinking about it.” 

 The other men laughed. 

 “All right, who next?” he asked. 

 One answered, “Shoot, my turn, nigga. Give me that.” 

 Jetta closed her eyes, then opened one again, feeling compelled to watch the horror. The man who claimed his turn pushed his sagging black jeans down and climbed onto the dirty mattress. Leaning over Vina, he started sucking on her immature breast as he stroked himself, trying to get himself erect. Beneath him, Vina looked toward the ceiling, shaking and traumatized. Having succeeded in getting hard, the man plunged into her vagina, hips snapping at full speed. Vina no longer had the will to fight back or even scream, although the gag had been removed. 

 For a split second, Jetta opened both eyes. The man’s head was on Vina’s the left side. Vina turned her face away, which put her bloodshot, glazed eyes toward her older sister. She could barely blink. Weak moans of pain rose from her throat. Jetta let out a bitter deep sigh and resumed weeping. 

 “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” she mumbled. 

 Her tears fell to the cracked concrete. Her thoughts returned to her father and his breaking the computer with the baseball bat. Now I see why Daddy was so mad, she thought to herself. I got tricked, manipulated. I've talked to this guy for over a year, and I really thought I had a friend. Like the devil and Eve, I got tricked and didn't even see it coming. 

 As time passed, Jetta’s thoughts dwelled on her father's teachings about men and the worst of human nature, her mother’s stories about her family. They weren’t fairy tales after all. Movement near her jolted her from her mental escape. She looked up to see one of the men press another rag over Vina’s her mouth and nose. When her sister slumped unconsciousness, the men untied her, dumped hot water and soap on her body, rubbed her down with a rag, put some lotion on her, and dressed her back up. Jetta realized the rag must have been soaked with chloroform. 

 One of the men looked at the mattress. “Turn that mattress over. It got blood and nut stains all over it.” 

 Four of the men turned the mattress over. 

 Another man looked at Joy and grinned with evil intent. “Her shit was good, but I bet yours is even better.” 

 He shoved Jetta’s youngest sister toward another man who grabbed her by her petite arms. He leaned forward and fixed her gaze with his. “You cute with that little dress. What's your name?” 

 Shaking like a leaf on a windy cold day, Joy glanced at Jetta then looked back at him, too terrified to speak. 

 “What's your name, bitch?” he screamed in her face, spittle flying. 

 “Joy,” she mumbled. 

 While the other man held her, he tore at her dress. 

 “No, no, please, no,” the girl begged them as she tried to resist break free. 

 Jetta's heart sank: that was her baby sister, a young, innocent girl. Jetta mustered her courage and her voice shook as she pleaded, “No, please don't, she's innocent. Don't do that to her.” 

 The man standing next to her hit her again, the crack of his hand loud as he struck her face. “Bitch, didn't I say shut the fuck up? You ain't innocent.” 

 He then slapped her breast and reached down to squeeze her left butt cheek. Getting in her face, he growled with foul promise, “You next bitch.” 

 Jetta spat in his mouth and snarled, “Fuck you.” 

 The man gripped her neck with one hand, choking her as he slapped her face several times. She felt her lip split and tasted blood and thought she’d never known such pain. 

 Another man ran over and grabbed his arm. “Yo, yo, yo, chill out, B. We need to sell these young bitches. Don't fuck her face up now.” 

 “Bitch spit in my face, yo,” he shouted as the other man pulled him away. 

 Jetta sniffled. Her vision blurred as the flesh around her eyes swelled. Her gorge rose. As vomit resurfaced, she thought to herself, Maybe if I throw up on myself, they won’t rape me. She gave in to the nausea and directed the vomit over the front of her body. It burned her abused throat and tasted vile. 

 The man who choked her looked at her through the dark mask and muttered, “You nasty bitch.” He returned to her and whispered in her ear, “You ain't getting out of this, bitch. You ain't the first bitch that tried to throw up on themselves.” 

 Jetta didn't respond, she just exhaled through her nostrils in despair. 

 “No, please no,” Joy cried as the men took all her clothes off. One man held both of her arms down and two grabbed her ankles. 

 One of them forced his way between her legs and declared, “I go first.” 

 He climbed on the bed, pulled his pants down, and started rubbing on Joy's breast as he stroked himself to get erect. One of the men lightly kicked him in the buttock and urged, “Man, if you don't hurry the fuck up with yo peewee wiener ass …” 

 The other men laughed at him. 

 The man on top of Joy swung his arm back and retorted loudly, “Man, I already came once. Man, second, third round is hard, bro.” 

 Finally erect, he tried to insert his penis into Joy and couldn't. He thrust at her resistant flesh and grunted, “This muthafucka tight. I know it's about to be good though.” 

 “Stop!” Jetta yelled. “She hasn’t been with nobody!” 

 She started to cry again. Unable to bear the pain of what she was about to do, she mustered some courage, and begged, “Do me first. Please, spare her.” 

 The man assaulting Joy spat on his penis and then spat on her vagina for lubrication. As he rubbed his saliva onto the girl’s vagina, he replied, “Nah, we all know you a hoe. We been keeping tabs on you for awhile now. We want this newbie right here. I know this shit right here ’bout to feel good.” 

 “Stop it!” Jetta screamed. 

 The man who had apparently appointed himself Jetta’s master grabbed the back of her neck and forced her to face him. “You like to spit in a muthafucka's face, watch us spit all over yo sister.” 

 Jetta started coughing and shut her eyes. 

 The man on the bed crowed as he forced his way inside Joy’s body. 

 “Ouch, that hurts! Please stop, that hurts,” she pleaded, begged, and cried as tears rolled down her petite cheeks and onto the filthy mattress. 

 The man gripping Jetta’s neck noticed she’d closed her eye and shook her. “I said look, bitch.” 

 Jetta opened one eye as the man raping Joy stared her in the eyes with his upper teeth sunk into his bottom lip. Joy screamed and cried in agony and humiliation. 

 Jetta's bottom lip trembled. She closed her eyes again as they began to tear. When she closed her eyes, she saw her sister Vina being raped; when she opened her eyes, she saw Joy’s rape. It was like a film in her head that wouldn’t go away. Her whole body shook, and she repeated a litany of abject regret, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

 She squeezed her eyes shut to see flashback of her sisters in the house as she promised to keep them safe, a promise she couldn't deliver. Her parents again returned to her thoughts and she sobbed, “Mommy, Daddy, I’m so sorry.” 

 The man holding her neck shook her again and snarled, “I said shut up and watch, bitch. I don’t want to hear shit about your mommy and daddy. My mom sold me multi times for crack rock and I didn't cry about it, so neither should you.” 

 With his right hand, he reached for his back pants pocket, pulled out a pistol, and pressed the muzzle to her head. 

 “I said watch,” he whispered in her ear. 

 Trembling uncontrollably, she opened her eyes as much as she was able. 

 The man violating Joy started to grunt and ejaculated inside her. When he finished, he got up and took a deep breath, smiled, and said, “Damn that's some good cat right there, boys.” 

 Another man dressed in black put both his hands out and whined, “Come on, man, why you cum in her, bro? We don't wanna go in behind you, man.” 

 “Man, we been doing this for years, this ain't nothing new, dawg. Get the fuck out here,” he responded. 

 Another man in black palmed his erection and crawled onto the bed between Joy’s legs. He spat on her vagina and drove his erect penis into her. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, as he exclaimed in bliss, “Fuck, that's good.” 

 Powerless to do anything, Joy bawled, saliva leaking from the side of her mouth. She cried so hard she could barely make noise anymore. Veins popped out the side of her neck and mascara streaked black lines down her face. 

 Jetta didn't want to look, but she was afraid to close her eyes. She trembled and breathed heavily through her nostrils as the man kept a firm grip on her neck and cold metal to her head. 

 Eventually, the man raping Joy got off, gasping for air as he called out, “Anybody else? That shit was good, though.” 

 He walked to another masked man and high-fived him. 

 Many of the men were satiated and tired. One commented, “Man, that be nice if our bodies were like women. That second or third nut harder than a muthafucka, boy.” 

 “Man, I know, but I’m forcing this last one out,” another replied and looked at Jetta, pointing at her. 

 Another man looked at Joy and declared, “I saved my nut; that bitch too skinny.” 

 One of them untied the traumatized girl and dragged her off the dirty mattress. He poured water and soap on her, rubbed her down and rubbed some lotion into her skin. Another took a cloth soaked with chloroform and pressed it over Joy’s face, holding it until it knocked her unconscious. 

 Another man looked at the one holding Jetta by the neck and ordered, “Unchain that bitch. She got that fat ass.” 

 The man tucked his gun back into his pocket and started to release the bonds holding her imprisoned. 

 Jetta couldn’t stop trembling. “No, no, no, no, no, no,” she begged and shook her head. 

 The man who had struck her shoved her at another man who grabbed her by the throat. He stared into her eyes, then flung her onto the mattress. Landing hard, Jetta looked at her unconscious sisters as some of the men rolled them up in dirty carpets and tossed them into one of the black vans that she belatedly realized were parked in the warehouse. 

 Jetta was terrified and her heart sank to the darkest depths. She cried out, “Oh, my God, where are you taking them?” She jumped up before anyone could tie her, but one of the masked men backhanded her. She fell face-down on the mattress, a hand pressed to her face and trying to bear the sting as she watched the loaded van leave the warehouse, taking her sisters into the dark haze of midnight. 

 They held Jetta down. One man clamped her neck, two pinned her arms at the end of the bed, and two more manhandled her legs and spread them wide. Another man clamped his hands around her waist to lift her butt in the air. Jetta screeched, “Stop it!” 

 Yet another man in a dark mask came over, pulled her by her hair, wrapped a bandana around her mouth, and shoved her head back into the musky, filthy mattress. He slapped the back of her head and said, “Shut up, bitch, and take these here dicks.” 

 Hard hands groped and squeezed her big, soft, fleshy, brown buttocks, and a familiar voice resonated with Jetta, “Remember me, I'm first in line. I've been wanting to hit this for a while now.” 

 Jetta bucked and tried to talk through the smelly bandana, “Fuck you! Where's my sisters?” 

 The man she’d once thought was her friend smacked her marshmallow buttock again and started playing with his penis, trying to get it erect. “Don't worry about it. You'll be joining them in Mexico soon enough.” 

 Jetta flopping like a fish out of water and screamed, “No!” She could not prevail against the strength of the men holding her down. 

 The man she knew as givemethatgoodgood69 started to penetrate her and crowed, “Fuck, I'm cumming already.” He got up as the man who gagged her pulled her thick hair back. He moved around the mattress and ejaculated into her left eye and across her face. 

 The men around him laughed, sounding like squeaky toys to Jetta’s battered mind. Her first rapist joked, “That's a world record right there. That was like ten seconds.” 

 Another man remarked, “He came faster than a squirrel, trying to crack open a nut.” 

 They laughed again. The mystery man smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and raised his hands, palms outward. “Shit, that cat was good, and I've been trying to pull her in for months now, so you know I was ready.” 

 While he joked at Jetta’s expense, another man positioned himself between her forcibly opened legs and groaned with pleasure as he took his turn. She looked at her supposed friend in the eye and stared into his dark soul. Defeated, she could no longer struggle. She could only shake from shock and disbelief. With an agonized moan, she wept. 

 The man whose voice she recognized took his mask off and said, “It's me, givemethatgoodgood69.” He smacked her in her fleshy buttocks twice and smiled. “You bitches is stupid. I got all different types of online names and faces and y’all fall for it. Why would you trust a muthafucka named givemethatgoodgood69? That’s a dead giveaway. I like doing it as a test and for fun, ’cause you dumb bitches will trust a name like mine; but, if a guy said he was Mr. Pope or Mr. Holy Man, you’d think he was a square, right?” 

Jetta could only stare at him, shaking . 

 Her second rapist got up quickly, moved around the bed, and ejaculated in her face. Some of his semen splashed on givemethatgoodgood69’s hands. 

“Fuck, that's good,” he gasped. 

 “What the fuck, bro? Watch where you aiming.” givemethatgoodgood69 glared at him as he wiped his hands on his pants. 

 “My fault, man. I was in heaven and I just came, bro. That shit was good, man,” the man spoke in short bursts of words as he tried to catch his breath. 

 “We ain't swingers man. We don't eat out the cat, we do hit and runs, gas ’em and pass ’em for sale. We ain't never gonna see these bitches again. We get our money and we out,” givemethatgoodgood69 reminded him. 

 The distinctive noise of helicopter blades filled the warehouse. Outside, bright spotlights sent beams of light through the broken windows. A voice amplified by a bullhorn bellowed, “Get on the ground now!” 

 givemethatgoodgood69 grabbed Jetta by her hair and put his left forearm over her mouth. He pressed a pistol to her face with his right hand as the man using her stiffened then withdrew from her body. He hauled her upright and shouted, “Get out of here, boys, I got this.” 

 The rest of the men packed themselves inside the remaining two vans. Tires squealed on the cracked concrete floor as one sped off. The other one rolled to the exit and waited. 

 “Let her go now,” a police officer ordered, pointing his gun and winking his eye three times at givemethatgoodgood69. Jetta’s feet dangled and she continued to shake with terror. 

 “Let me go and I'll let her go,” her captor said as started to walk towards the waiting van. 

 Several cops inched up toward him, guns following his movement. 

 “You don't have to do this. We can talk about this,” one of the cops called out. 

 Desperate not to end up inside that van, Jetta bit down on givemethatgoodgood69’s forearm and drew blood. 

 “Ah, you bitch!” he howled in pain and released her. Jetta darted away from him, but she was too slow and clumsy. He grabbed her by hair and hauled her back against his body. Jetta screamed and cried, trying to wrench herself from his cruel grip. 

 “Here, you forgot to suck my dick, bitch,” givemethatgoodgood69 growled and shoved his pistol into Jetta’s swollen cheek. 

 Pow! 

 Sprinkles of thick blood and bits of pearly white teeth splattered on the dirty warehouse floor amid the gritty machines. The arm holding her fell away and Jetta collapsed in a haze of pain and horror. Her ears rang from the gunshot blast, but she could hear well enough to hear the roar of an engine and the squeal of tires laying down rubber. She could see enough to know where the cops stood. Then the lights dimmed and everything went blank. 

 About six hours later, Jetta opened her eyes. She lay stiff in a bed, feeling dizzy, but coherent enough to hear the conversation just beyond the doorway. She looked around, inhaled air smelling of antiseptic chemicals, and realized she was in a hospital. 

 Turning her face toward the door, she saw two white cops talking to each other, their backs to her room. One lifted a cup of coffee. She could smell the rich fragrance of the liquid. 

 The cop on the left elbowed the other cop and said, “If we could have got all three girls …” He lifted his hands up, bit his bottom lip, and rubbed his thumb against his fingertips in common gesture signaling money. He turned to look into the room and Jetta quickly closed her eyes. “But I mean, we’ll still make what, six figures, for those girls?” 

 “Maybe not that much, but we’ll make a good penny,” the other cop said. 

 Both of them nervously looked back at Jetta and around the room. Through slitted eyes, Jetta recognized one of them from the rescue. 

 “How is she, officers?” Jetta’s mother interrupted the conversation. 

 Jetta opened her eyes as much as she could. Her mother ran to her. 

 “Jetta, are you okay, baby?” 

 Jetta didn’t say a word. Her mind had retreated to the dark reaches of the universe, as she could not believe what she just heard and the horrible implications of corruption. 

 One of the officers entered the room, approached the hospital bed, and touched her hand. With a sunny smile, he said, “Hey there, young lady, how ya doing?” 

 Jetta didn't look at them, but she started shaking. 

“Looks like you finally woke up. Your brother's a hero; he followed you and the vans,” the officer said. He looked at Jassen and raised one eyebrow. Gesturing to his partner, who joined him inside the hospital room, he reviewed the young man’s statement. “So, you had an extra GPS tracker that you got in a two-for-one deal and you put it on your sister’s car one day as a practical joke? You followed her car here and watched them get taken, you say?” 

 “Yes, sir,” Jassen replied, remembering to mind his manners. His hands moved in all different direction as he tried to explain his story. “I seen them get taken, but the GPS tracker on my phone sucked up all my battery and it was down to twenty-six percent battery. I was worried about them and forgot to bring my phone charger. I saw masked men take Jetta’s car and put my sisters into a van, then I followed the vans to the warehouse. I didn’t get too close. When they pulled into the warehouse, I kept driving. With my phone about dead, I panicked, looking for someone who’d help out. I mean … it was late and not too many people were out, so I tried asking a couple. They just started walking fast to get away from me. I asked another person and he ignored me, too. Then I went to a hotel and the man up front was kind enough to let me use the hotel phone. I usually see cops riding around, but I didn’t see any—and the one I did see flew by fast.” 

 “Gotcha,” the police officer said. He then smiled, his eyes sparkling. “Good work, you saved your sister. I guess that GPS came in handy, and now we can keep an eye on that area.” 

 Her mother grasped Jetta’s hands, rubbed them gently, and nodded. “Yes, yes, Jassen followed y’all down.” She let out a deep breath, her face crumpling with grief. “They can't find your sisters, though.” She rubbed her eyes with her right hand and muttered, “Excuse me.” 

 Jetta watched her mother as she walked, weeping, into the hospital bathroom. 

Tayvon walked in, maintaining a neutral expression. He looked at the cops and said, “Excuse me, officer.” 

 The cop smiled and moved out the way. Tayvon extended his hand to shake the cop’s hand. “Thank you for saving my sister’s life. Did you find any leads on my baby sisters?” 

 The cop exhaled a deep sigh through his nostrils, looked at him, and put his hand on Tayvon’s shoulder. “We’re trying, young man, we’re trying.” 

 Jassen curled his lip in, then quietly said, “Thank you, officer, we appreciate it.” 

 The officer nodded. 

 Tayvon approached the bed, stared at his sister, took her hands in his, and asked, “You good?” 

 Jetta stared back, unable to talk. She squeezed his hands and let the tears run down her disfigured face and soak into the thick bandages. Both brothers shed tears with her and used their index fingers to wipe away hers. 

 Jetta's father walked in, arms folded. He stared at her and Jetta averted her gaze. He tilted his head back, let out a deep breath of hot air, and walked to the window. He looked at the gray light of dawn for a moment, then back at Jetta, and said, “I warned her, and the worst-case scenario happened.” 

 Lips pressed tight, Netta approached her husband and glared at him. She hissed, “James, it's not the time for this.” 

 James broke down and pounded his fist on the vent. “My babies, my princesses, they gone!” He looked at Jetta and pointed at her. “This is her fault. She didn't listen. I want her out of my house. I told her something like this would happen.” 

 Netta closed her eyes and embraced him, saying, “James, James, James, come here, honey.” 

 Jassen and Tayvon walked towards him. 

 “Let's go outside, Dad,” Jassen said quietly. 

 “My babies, my Vina and my sweet love and Joy,” James wailed as he fell to his knees. He balled his fists and raised them to heaven. “Why, Lord? Why me? Why my family? What have I done wrong? Have you cursed me like Job, Lord? Why?” 

 Joined by Netta, Tayvon, Jassen, one of the two police officers pulled him to his feet and said, “Come on, sir, let's go outside.” 

 James sobbed like a child as they walked him out. 

 The remaining cop who had given Jetta that sunny smile tapped the back of her hand and promised, “I will find your sisters, don't you worry.” 

 Traumatized and in shock, Jetta again started to tremble. She closed her eyes and thought, I should have listened. 

                                            
   The Family



 In decent families there is almost always a real concern with and a certain amount of hope for the future. Such attitudes are often expressed in a drive to work “to have something” or “to build a good life,” while at the same time trying to “make do with what you have.” This means working hard, saving money for material things, and raising children—any “child you touch”—to try to make something out of themselves. Decent families tend to accept mainstream values more fully than street families, and they attempt to instill them in children. Probably the most meaningful description of the mission of the decent family, as seen by members and outside alike, is to instill “backbone” and a sense of responsibility in its younger members. In their efforts towards this goal, decent parents are much more able and willing than street-oriented ones to ally themselves with outside institutions such as schools and churches. They value hard work and self-reliance and are willing to sacrifice for their children: they harbor hopes for a better future for their children, if not for themselves.

Code of the Street: Decency, Violence, and the Moral Life of the Inner City by Elijah Anderson (pp. 37-38)



The Masked Men

 At the extreme of the street-oriented groups are those who make up the criminal element. People in this class are profound casualties of the social and economic system, and they tend to embrace the street code wholeheartedly. They tend to lack not only a decent education—though some are highly intelligent—but also an outlook that would allow them to see far beyond their immediate circumstances. Rather, many pride themselves on living the “thug life,” actively defying not simply the wider social conventions but the law itself.

 In their view, policeman, public officials, and corporate heads are unworthy of respect and hold little moral authority. Highly alienated and embittered, they exclude generalized contempt for the wider scheme of things and for a system they are sure has nothing but contempt for them.
Members of this group are among the most desperate and most alienated people of the inner city. For them, people and situations are best approached both as objects of exploitation and as challenges possibly “having a trick to them,” and in most situations their goal is to avoid being “caught in the trick bag.” Theirs is a cynical outlook, and trust of others is severely lacking, even trust of those they are close to.

Code of the Street: Decency, Violence, Moral Life of the Inner City by Elijah Anderson (pp 36-37)

Bibliography

Anderson, E. Code of the Street: Decency, Violence, and the Moral Life of the Inner City, W. W. Norton, 2000.
NIV Study Bible, Hardcover, Red Letter Edition, Zondervan, 2011.






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