• For the past two days, my sister Evangeline and I have been trapped inside the closet of our tin house and our care taker Charlie has been gone for four days. I watch Evangeline while she rests her head against the rusting metal wall; I know she’s dreaming of the days when anarchy was something that only happened over seas. She dreams of a world much better than the one we live in now and for that I am jealous.
    I grasp a cold copper letter opener between my hands, squeezing it every so often to refrain from sleeping. The sound of Evangeline breathing creates a rhythmic pattern that plays in my ears for hours. Maybe if I close my eyes for a little while I can see what Evangeline sees.

    “Bridghet! Bridghet wake up!” I am greeted by big aquamarines eyes. These eyes plead for something I cannot give them, food.
    “Yes Evangeline?” I ask propping myself up on my elbows.
    “I’m hungry!” she pouts. I hear her stomach churning. “I’m afraid my stomach is eating itself!”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. And Charlie isn’t back yet so we don’t have much to eat. Just try and tough it out for a little longer squirt.” I know this is unrealistic to ask of an eight year-old but we barely have enough food to last us a night.
    Charlie is our everything and always has been ever since our mother died. The same day America was nuked. Anarchy broke out after almost anyone who had a political status stepped down from their position to take care of their families. Our mother died in the raid while my sister and I were 500 miles away in a bomb shelter in Nevada. Now we live in a disfigured shack made from rusting metal parts and an array of molding sheets.
    Charlie leaves every few days to go and retrieve more food and supplies. If he doesn’t return in two days, Evangeline and I hide in the closet in case someone breaks into the shack and either kidnaps or kills us. Charlie has been gone longer than usual. I would go out and search for him, but because we are so young, Evangeline and I never leave the house.

    The condition of Evangeline’s hunger begins to worsen and I know I must do something or she will become sick. I squeeze the letter opener and hope that I am making the right decision.
    “I’ll be right back.” I tell Evangeline. She grabs my wrist and clutches it for dear life.
    “Where are you going?!” she pleads.
    “To get you some food. I’ll be back. I promise.” She stares into my eyes for a second before I rub her burgundy hair. She releases my wrist and disappears into the shadows of the closet.
    I slowly pry the closet door open, trying to stop it from squeaking. I crawl out into the main room of the shack where the front door is. I feel a breeze sweep through the air and stir my hair. The packages of dehydrated food lay on top of Charlie’s rotting mahogany desk. I slowly glide across the coarse sand when the shack begins to shake uncontrollably. The metal walls clatter together and the blankets wave franticly. I hear Evangeline crying in fear behind me and I know I must return to the closet; however, my body is to frozen with fear and my hands and legs become too stiff to move. A loud noise causes my eardrums to quake and muffles the sounds of Evangeline’s sobs. This seems to go on for forever until everything is suddenly still and peaceful again. It must have been hijacked government helicopters. My heart slows down and my mind is back on track.
    I look back at the closet to see Evangeline peering through a hole in the door. I give her a reassuring look and continue my way to the mahogany desk. On top of the desk are packs or dehydrated fruit, vegetables, and a bottle of water. I get into a crouched position and grab two packs of food and the water bottle. I turn to make my way back to the closet when the front door slams open.
    “Look at what we got here!” a harsh voice says behind me. I look back to see two large male figures in the doorway. One is thin with bronze, matted hair and eyes that seem like they can cut through anything if he stares at it for too long. Behind him is a masculine man with sun glasses and a bald head that reflects the sun off of it. My heart skips a beat with fear and adrenaline courses through my veins. I instantly drop the packages of food and bottle of water. I quickly pat myself down to discover I left the letter opener on the floor when helicopters were flying over. I find it in the center of the floor and leap for it with all my might.
    “Not so fast!” the skinny one yells and charges towards me at full speed. Before I can grab the letter opener, he yanks me up by my hair and kicks the letter opener aside. “Looks like we’ve got us an Aryan.” He grabs my face with his free hand turns it towards him. His gaze burns into my eyes and we are instantly locked into a chilling trance. “Yes, I can smell the ocean seeping from your lids.”
    Without a second thought I spit in his face and he drops me. I kick out like a frightened animal before the large one steps on my stomach and digs his heel into it. I instantly cringe from the pain and feel myself about to vomit.
    “Stop your fussing.” he yells at the skinny one who is swearing into the air. “And you,” he glares down at me, “no more crap or I will happily kill you.” He proceeds to grab me by my ankles and drag me out of the shack. I tilt my head back and see Evangeline looking through the hole in the closet, her pupils dilated with ineffable fear. At least they haven’t discovered her presence. If I’m lucky, Charlie will return and she will still be in the closet.
    Once outside, the two thugs discuss whether or not to place me in the back seat of the trunk of their car. My back is being scorched by the intense heat resonating from the sand. The sun beats down relentlessly on my face. I wonder how such a beautiful thing can merely float above me and let something so unjust happen.
    “Hey!” calls a voice somewhere far off in the background. This voice is the same voice that protected me and Evangeline from countless attacks and hunger pains. This was the voice of Charlie.
    The thugs stop in their tracks and turn left. I can barely see Charlie with the sun distorting my vision.
    “And who are you?” the skinny one asks, voice full of venom.
    “I’m the care-taker of this child and I demand that you let her go!” Charlie growls. He drops his messenger bag and the bags containing the newly acquired goods. In a rage, he charged the skinny guy and lifts him off the ground. The skinny man squirmed in the air like a bug being tossed in the air. Charlie slammed his body into sand; the combination of skinny man’s back and the coarse sand created a large thud sound.
    Something inside me started to warm and flutter. Charlie had come to my rescue. In this very moment, nothing could go wrong. All I can do is watch happily as Charlie pummels the thin man into the sand. But, happiness doesn’t last for forever; the large man reaches his hand into his back pocket. The sunlight bounces off of the metal object and momentarily blinds me. It takes a second for my vision to re-adjust and I realize that the man pulling out a gun. All the warmth and fluttering within my body goes cold and dies. The world seems to move in slow motion and as I shout Charlie’s name to warn him, my lips feel as if they have been frozen in time.
    The shot is fired but I hear nothing except for the blood that rushes through my ears. Charlie slowly collapses to the ground. Behind teary eyes, I see his body jerk a few more times and blood oozes through several holes in his shirt.
    Everything from then on goes by slowly. I barely realize the murder of the man I’ve grown so fond of carries me on his shoulder to the truck. I sob and watch as the thin man kicks the sides of Charlie’s lifeless carcass. I am placed in the back of the truck still staring at Charlie’s motionless body. I silently pray that he will get up and walk away, but I know my praying is useless.
    As the truck snatches away from the grasp of the sand I know that my destiny lies within the clutches of sensually thirsty men and an invisible traffic of girls such as I who dared come out of hiding. I am no longer Bridghet, but a mere item of pleasure that will travel the world in false hopes of freedom. As the truck pulls away I see a large set of blue eyes peering through the window of the shack. My mind instantly turns to Evangeline. What will become of my poor little sister? Will she starve out here in the desert of be taken hostage like I am. I imagine myself patting her burgundy hair and holding her tight; I silently pray that someone with good intentions and heart of gold finds and takes care of my little rare treasure.
    The house disappears behind heat waves and I’m left to start my new found life, alone.