Found: Breathing

By R.A. Arnold

Sisi is a 23 year old woman with a dwindling hope for anything better than the hell that is her life. The only thing worth surviving for was the need to protect her family. That is until she meets someone different who shows her another choice.
So, what happens when the victims of human trafficking, aren't actually human?"

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.A. Arnold
• Release date: Jan 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215289051

R.A. Arnold

New author trying to achieve their dreams

Book preview

Found Breathing

R.A. Arnold

Published by R.A. Arnold at Smashwords

HAPPY, PRETTY GIRLS

OK LADIES LETS GO, WHOEVER IS NOT ON THE BUS IN 5 MINUTES IS RIDING IN THE VANS! The loud, shrill voice of Miss Trish yelled into the now almost empty house as the girls rushed around, trying to collect the last bits of their personal belongings.

Miss Trish was a short thin woman who liked to keep her heels higher than her standards in the men she kept around. She was the director of our show and at one point, our foster mom. But that person was long gone now.

See there’s nine of us girls, the youngest and newest addition to the show, Katie Ann, is sixteen. We’re former foster kids who are or were about to age out of the system and be left on our own. None of us had stable homes or families, until Miss and her husband Rod offered each of us a place in their lives. We were promised a chance to survive, to live, and all we would need to do is dance. It’s a travelling burlesque show with lots of sparkles and leg.

I reached down and grabbed my bag off the bed and threw it over my shoulder while I walked out the door. I paused for a second, looking around the small room one last time to see if anything was forgotten before hurrying out after the others.

As I ran down the front steps, into the yard, I flew past Miss Trish, almost knocking her tiny self off balance.

Sisi, I sweAR TO GOD! she yelled after me as she turned to lock the door.

I’m sorry. I mumbled, not looking up. This was our fourth town this month. Every time we travel, we stay in a different vacant house so there is space for us all. This one was cute; it was a light yellow with white shutters and a small garden out front. I like to imagine the families that will one day hopefully move in, it passes the time and keeps my mind occupied.

I was thinking a small family for this one, with kids that could ride their bikes up and down the almost empty street. The parents would tend the garden, keeping it lush and alive and beautiful. A perfect mirror of their perfect family. I know it was pointless, but the idea of a happy, normal family is something we’ve each dreamt about for most of our lives. Normal. The opposite of what we have now.

I climbed into the baby blue bus and headed straight to the back left, my usual spot. It smelled just as musty as always, but now there was a layer of cheap body sprays on top. The girls usually like to dress up for the ride in case we stop and get the chance to meet people. Not that we stopped often or were actually allowed to talk to anyone.

At least the bus was dancers only, so I didn’t have to worry about any of the stagehand here. It was one of the only places I was able to be mostly alone to my thoughts and could just breathe for longer than five minutes.

I pushed my bag into the old, worn out gray seat next to me and settled into the corner. The cushions were indented with my shape from the years and I reached up to feel the small, rough tally lines I’ve been slowly scratching into the window frame. I use it to keep count of the years, adding a new one every June. I like to tell myself that I’ll never make it to the latch in the middle of the window, that I’ll be gone before then. Probably dead but gone none the less.

The bus roared alive, and the squeak of the door closing was barely audible over the mumble of the girls all talking together. I didn’t really like to talk; I didn’t like anything about this situation. See there’s an unspoken rule in the show, you can’t leave. It was common knowledge to us all that they would sooner have you beaten to death before letting you be the thing that makes them lose money on this show. We’ve all been known to take a beating in the name of the show. No ifs, ands or buts. So, this was my life. The idea we could ever be anything more, anything considered normal, was like wishing for rain in the middle of the desert.

I should probably introduce myself. My name is Sienna Jacobs, but everyone just calls me Sisi. Rod says it’s easier to remember, and the girls think it’s cute. I don’t mind really; it feels like the real me is a secret, something that I can still protect.

I joined the show almost six years ago now, when I was seventeen, and only months away from being removed from the girl’s home after a history of bad foster homes. Then Miss Trish and Rod showed up offering a chance, or so I thought. At the time this life seemed like the next place to go. They had specifically chosen me and a few others from the states group homes to offer this too. The chance to perform, see the country, have a big family and most importantly, somewhere to go. When you’re hearing it as a desperate teenager with no other options, you don’t see the red flags. You just see somewhere you can be. Granted, I don’t know what I expected, my life is like a bad movie. I’ve attracted trouble everywhere I went. Like a curse that just follows me. Why I thought this would be any different, I have no idea.

I pushed my long brown hair out of my face and leaned my forehead onto the cool window, wanting to get as close to the glass as possible. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. The air around the window was colder than the rest and made my lungs feel slightly refreshed and calmed my constant state of stress. Breathing is the only thing I new how to do to cope with this life. Crying isn’t an option here.

I took a few more breaths in, letting it clear my head, then leaned back into my seat to watch the house disappear from view. The tree’s over the road created a canopy of leaves, and spring flowers, letting through bits of sunlight that gave the entire block an airy and soft feeling. This place really would be beautiful for a family. A real family.

Hey! Katie Ann said, popping up over the seat in front of me.

What’s up Bug? I asked, giving her a small half smile.

Can you help me trim my hair before the show tomorrow? It’s overgrowing and I can’t keep it in a tight enough bun. She hummed, leaning her chin on the seat back and holding her long dirty blonde hair in between her fingers.

Sure. We can try and do it tomorrow between rehearsals. I said, reaching up and pinching her nose.

Thanks, Sisi! she smiled, Enjoy your nap. She winked before disappearing behind the seat again.

I’ll try. I sighed to myself rubbing my neck. Ever since they brought Katie in, not long ago, I’ve been working double time to keep her safe too. This isn’t the place for anyone to survive, let alone a sixteen-year-old girl. She was a small girl, not even 5’ and 100lbs soaking wet, but you could tell she had a bite in her, it’s too bad that bite would get her bit back by someone much bigger here.

Her being apart of the show both gave me something worth fighting for, and simultaneously broke my heart. I hate that this is her life more than I hate it’s my own.

Ladies, we’re going to arrive at the next house in 4 ½ hours. Miss Trish called out and we each straightened to look at her better over the seat backs. Miranda, I want you working on your vocals while we’re driving. Once we arrive, there will be no more speaking until the morning, understood? This is our first show with vocals, and your voice better be ready. She said sternly as she stood in the isle, with her red taloned hand gripping the back of the seat to support her tiny body upright on the speeding bus.

Miranda was petite, with warmer tan skin, and shoulder length, wavy, brown hair. I glanced over at her, sitting a few seats ahead as she nodded to Miss Trish quickly in response.

Miranda has a solo in the show, which is a new development for us, but her voice really was beautiful. They wanted to use our last couple shows to test out the possibility of us singing for the next season. Anything they can milk for an extra buck.

Her group home had a worker that was very open about how amazed they were with her when Miss Trish and Rod arrived to pick her up. They went on and on about how talented she was and how she would make an amazing addition. I think they meant well, I really do, but all that did was put poor Miranda at the center of attention in all the worst ways. She was the usual guinea pig for all their new ideas because they knew she had the talent to pull it off the first time. Not that she had much of a choice, you have to do it right here.

Ariel, sweetheart if you pull that shit like you did last night, I’m going to do a lot worse than just smack you. Got it? Miss Trish continued, adjusting to fix her icy stare on the pale-blond girl in the seat across the isle from me. Her and Miranda were similar in size, and the smallest girls aside from Bug.

I looked over at her as she straitened her back to sit higher up. Her cheek was starting to show the beginning of a large bruise against her fair skin she was attempting to hide with makeup.

Yes Miss. her tiny voice rang out, and I watched her big blue eyes as they were fixed on the woman.

The ‘shit’ they’re referring to was Ariel’s heel breaking while backstage, causing her to fall into a speaker, cutting the music in the club. It was one of the brightest shades of red I’d ever seen Rod go. He spent the rest of the night swearing about the ‘unprofessional look’ the 30 seconds of silence between dances gave him.

And Sisi? I looked up at Miss again at the sound of my name. If you don’t learn to smile more while performing I’ll move you backstage and you can ride in the van. Understood? Miss Trish asked as she stared at me with such intensity it was hard not to melt backwards in my seat. But it’s true, I haven’t been smiling as much lately, or anything other than just surviving. My life feels like standing in hell and being bored. Everything is the same, but it’s all waiting for a chance to kill you.

It's been a long build up, but I feel like my fight is dying. My ability to survive much longer is rapidly withering away with each passing day we’re stuck here. The only thing still keeping me upright most of the time is my sisters. Bug needs me, she’d probably argue she doesn’t, but she does. I need her too. Like I said, she gave me something worth fighting for.

Yes ma’am. I forced the words out of my lips, blinking twice as I composed myself then gave a small smile to show my compliance. I’d do whatever to keep any one of us out of the vans; they’re a horror show.

I don’t think a single girl has ever gotten out and not been in tears, with more bruises than when they got in. The van’s are how the stagehand travels. A group of usually intoxicated men who are only here because they like to ‘watch.’ Some of them are old club regulars that got jobs so they could stay close to us. Just being near them felt like being a cow at a slaughterhouse auction.

Good. Miss Trish smirked. I’ll only have happy, pretty girls on my stage. She said smugly, then she paused to scan the faces again. Alright, Miranda, starting with the warm-ups 1...2...3...4...1...2-. I leaned back in my seat again and breathed out for the first time since she looked at me.

The hum of voices all started up again with Miranda’s harmonizing floating through and I rolled my head to look out the window at nothing in particular as we sped down the road towards the highway.

The further we went from the house, the less cozy the world felt, less calm, and less real. We were so used to being on the road that the idea of being a traveling show had lost all excitement for me. It just was at this point. The new places are hard to enjoy when you’re constantly watching the world go by from the windows of a bus. The faces blur together, the clubs, the houses, the roads. It’s like a different world than the one we grew up in; one that blurs by.

I glanced down at myself, brushing the invisible crumbs away from my shirt as I settled into the seat more, pushing my knees into the back of the one in front of me. It was an old band shirt from a group I’d listened to as a teen and was something of my own. Something Sisi’s, which is rare here. We didn’t have much of our own.

I slinked lower into my seat and closed my eyes, trying to focus on the roar of the bus and letting it pull me to sleep. Last night was a long one; they all are.

Dried Flowers

I opened my eyes as the bus rolled to a stop and moved my shoulders back as my mind and body got used to being awake again. I looked around and stretched my arms into the air, while I lowered my knees from the seat back, grimacing slightly as I straightened my legs for the first time in hours. I had to take a second to get feeling back and rotated my ankles, stretching out every joint.

Let’s go ladies, off the bus. Your rooms are on the second floor, get dressed and meet me in the living room for rehearsals in 15 minutes. Miss Trish yelled as the bus turned off while she was kneeling on her seat to look back at us. Rod opened the doors and stomped off, mumbling something about needing a smoke before any of us could even stand.

He was a short, round man with a head that reflected the sun through rapidly thinning hair, complimented by the fake gold chain he wore proudly against his chest.

I reached over to grab my dark blue duffle bag to see it was knocked onto the floor and I pursed my lips at in then bent down to pick it up. I brushed the bottom off where the dust had sat and wiped my hand on my pants. Swinging the bag over my shoulder, I brushed my hair back into place behind my ear again and followed the trail of girls walking, and chatting excitedly about the new house, the new club, and the new show we had started rehearsing. It was set to start in a week, at the next town.

I sort of understood the excitement, none of us wanted to be here or were happy at all, but new means different and different can be what it takes to get you through to tomorrow. Katie Ann in particular liked to find new books in each of the houses we stayed in to keep her mind busy.

I stepped down off the bus and into the sun and had to blink a few times to get used to the light on my tired eyes.

Infront of me stood this older wood house with a forest green exterior. It was two floors high and was a bit bigger than the other places we usually stay. I looked around to take it all in, trying to memorise the place I would be living in for the next few days. It had dark wood stairs leading to the front porch where it was met with a large black front door with frosted windowpanes on either side, and a garden that wrapped one side of the house, past where I could see. I looked around again, trying to visualise the people that usually stay here. The property was well taken care of so it was easy to see this as a space that would be nice for a large, happy family.

I glanced back down the long driveway at a noise, towards the road as the stagehand pulled in behind us, their large tires crunching on the rocks that littered the ground. Two large white vans that should have ‘free candy’ spray painted on the side pulled in first, followed by a moving truck and finally Jackson in the back, driving his prized possession, a flashy black and red sports car.

Jackson was Miss Trish and Rod’s only biological child. They said he was head of security, but all he did was mooch off the show and drink himself under the table every night while working overtime to harass the dancers in whatever way he felt entitled to. He’s the muscle they used whenever they felt we needed to be reminded of the way things work here. Which was really just a nice way of saying he was going to beat the shit out of you, and like it.

He pulled around the vehicles in front of him quickly and screeched the car to a stop a few feet away from my legs. I didn’t flinch, half hoping he would just end it all right there, but as he stopped just short of gone, he smiled his twisted little smile full of evil and winked at me.

Jackson was different. Something about him was just… wrong. Broken. Every time he looked at you it felt like he was hunting, and you were prey. He was itching for any reason to strike. He was the ringleader of the stagehand and they all followed after him like he was some type of horrific God because he could do whatever he wanted. And he did.

I suppressed a shudder as I looked back towards the house. I hadn’t noticed the other girls were already climbing the stairs inside. I watched as Katie glanced back at me, just for Maddy to grab her arm and guide her forward through the door after the others.

I breathed in the fresh air and looked around the yard one last time before following. The house was in the middle of a clearing of trees, dead set in the middle of the forest. The air smelled like pine and water, and I looked behind me scanning for the source. I heard Miss Trish tell Jackson there was a lake near by a few days ago but I didn’t see anything except more thick, dark forest past the bus.

I turned back to the house and forced my feet to go, to moved to the steps. I took one more deep breath, filling my lungs with as much pine scent as I could and walked up to the door, following my sisters as the stagehands started to unload the vans behind me.

The house was bright on the inside, lots of white walls and a few taxidermy deer hanging between the windows that lined the walls, filling the place with bright, natural light. The house didn’t smell the same as outside, it was an almost old, dried flowers smell that had been sitting vacant for a while.

I looked around, then towards the stairs that were straight ahead and followed them up to the second floor. The other girls were already in the rooms spreading out, so I walked into the first on the left and looked around. There were three beds in this fair-sized room and only two seemed to be claimed.

I crossed into the room and dropped my bag on the unclaimed bed farthest from the door. It was closest to the window, which I preferred. Some of the other girls are scared to be too close to the windows because they don’t trust the stagehand not to climb through them at night. It’s happened before, but I’ve seen enough in my life to know a window is an exit too.

I took in the room for a moment, more plain-white walls, and simple wood accents. There was a side table with a lamp next to each bed and a book with a bright red cover I’d never seen, on the table next to the bed that had Ariel’s small bag on it. I walked over, and picked up the book, turning it over in my hands then shrugged and put it back down. It wasn’t overly interesting to me, but I made a mental note to tell Bug when I got a clear chance.

I wandered back out of the room and looked around again. The hallway turned 180’ with the doors all on the left, and a railing that looked over the stairs on the right. The walls were painted the same bright white but were completely void of any sort of pictures or art. Like we had just walked into a dream that wasn’t quite put together right. It had a strange feeling, like being in a hotel with their long identical hallways that just seemed disconnected from the rest of the world. Almost like time was paused here.

Girls were running in and out of rooms around me and I moved towards the end of the hall, peaking in each door, looking for the bathroom. I found it quickly and as Tara exited, I ducked into the yellow room in the middle of the hallway. It was older with a built-in vanity and tub that was starting to mold along the calking.

It had a similar feeling to the rest of the house, like an old soul with newer parts. This house had a story, like it had love somewhere. Maybe a family whose kids were all grown and moved out, so the parents moved somewhere warm. Maybe they wanted to bring a family back to experience the love, in their house paused in time like they had left yesterday, and years ago. I almost felt bad it was us here instead.

I closed the door behind me and turned to examine my face in the mirror. My green eyes were surrounded by the usual dark bags and my hair was sticking out of my ponytail in weird lumps. I sighed at the mess then pulled my hair down and started combing my fingers through to pull out the knots.

People had commented on my eyes my whole life because of just how green they are. Ariel compares them to emeralds, where as Bug said they’re more like bright green grass.

When I worked through the worst of the knots in my hair I glanced up at the mirror again to tie it back up and trying to smooth it out as best I could with my hands.

I focused on my face next, leaning into the mirror to see the imperfections better, then rubbed my thumb along my jaw line. The bruise from the last time I got hit was finally gone, which made having my makeup done for the shows a lot easier. My nose was slightly upturned, and I had a small cupids bow in my fair-sized lips. My skin itself showed a map of my story. There were small scars, a few freckles scattered, and dark circles that I’ve accepted were a permanent fixture after the years of exhaustion.

5 minutes! I heard called out from somewhere in the house. I sighed again, splashed some water on my face and walked back out into the hallway and looked around. Bug came running from the left towards me and I stepped aside as she went to move into the bathroom.

Hey. I said, as she paused in the doorway. You found a bed? I asked.

Yeah. She nodded. With Tara and Megan in the next room. She said.

Good. How close to the door is it? I asked again.

It’s against the back wall, away from the door. She said, looking down. She knew why I asked, which broke my heart, but I needed to make sure she was safe, or as safe as possible here.

Ok. I nodded. If you need me at all, I’m in the first one. I said, trying to sound as reassuring and normal as I could. Like we were talking about the weather, and not running through our plan in case anyone decided to make a visit in the night.

Thanks, Sisi. She said, giving me, a small smile and I reached out, pinching her nose as she smiled a bit more, then she ducked into the bathroom as she closed the door. I started moving back to my room to change into shorts and get my dance shoes as a dull pain for her pulled at my heart. As I walked in I squeezed past Maddy digging through her own bag.

No, no, no, no. she groaned, riffling through the clothes she had.

You okay? I asked, glancing over at her as I opened my bag and pulled out the black shorts sitting on top.

Maddy was a beautiful girl with warm skin, and freckles that absolutely littered her body like the points of light in the dark night sky. She was one of the chattier girls and was constantly making it her mission to make sure we understood the beauty that was being a woman. She wanted us to feel as powerful as possible when on stage, to help us not feel broken. It worked for some of us, but I think it really works for her the best.

I think I left my scrunchie at the last house. She groaned, looking over at me.

Do you have an elastic? I asked, wrinkling my nose at her.

Yeah. But they hurt. She sighed. My hair’s so thick. She wasn’t wrong, she had incredibly thick, brown hair she took care of like it was her child.

Maybe it’s on the bus. I said reassuringly then I held my shorts up to my nose and smelled them. They weren’t clean, clean, but they didn’t stink either, so I shrugged and placed them on the bed.

Yeah, maybe. She hummed as she pulled out her own rehearsal clothes. I dug around my bag for another second to pull out my dance shoes and found them at the bottom. I grabbed onto the tall black stilettoes, and pulled them out, setting the first on the bed as I went back in for the second.

The heels were a cheaper pair they provided us and had acrylic paint on the bottom to resemble the signature Louis Vuitton’s. They liked to give the illusion of class for the show, to hide the truth while people paid to watch. I looked over as Maddy ducked out of the room and saw the other girls had almost all gone back down already, with the exception of Megan who just went into the washroom.

I undid my jeans as quickly as I could and slid them off, kicking my runners off in the process. I pulled the shorts on just as fast and picked up both heels in my hands. Standing up straight I stretched my arms above my head and looked out the window for the first time.

I had a view of the back yard from where I was. The tree line was met with a large metal shop with a chipped black garage door, and a floodlight that looked like it had been replaced recently. The trees themselves were thick and dark and alive. There was green absolutely everywhere I looked and so full of life.

I watched the forest for another second, taking in the serenity it gave me as the light breeze moved the branches like a dance the trees enjoyed. A small gray squirrel went running across the yard and I leaned over to watch it climb the trunk of one of the trees and disappear into the green as if it was being swallowed alive.

Let’s GO! Miss Trish’s voice snapped from downstairs, ruining this moment of almost calm, and I turned back towards the bedroom door and hurried out to meet with the others.

Something New.

One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four! Extend your leg more Maddy! One two, three, four! Miss Trish shouted over the speaker as we ran through the choreography for what felt like the sixth thousandth time. We had been practising for almost 3 hours now and it was starting to get dark outside.

I ran through the steps over and over in my head, feeling like a hamster in a wheel, running for it’s life. We had plenty of space in the large room to spread out, and work on our performance without bumping into each other, which is nice considering some of the places we’ve had to practise in the past.

Alright, Sisi, Megan, Jordan, Tara. You may go. Go make sure the costumes are ready for tomorrow night. Miss said, waving her hand in our direction. We each nodded and headed towards the exit, and back to the stairs quickly.

The Stagehands were sitting around the couches that were pushed to the wall and watching us rehearse, looking at us like we were a sandwich, and they were starving. It was extremely uncomfortable, and nobody stayed longer than absolutely necessary.

I rushed up the stairs, ignoring the eyes following me and sped up after Jordan into the last room at the end of the hall. I pulled my heels off and placed them on the floor, barely registering the relief in my tired soles, as we started unloading the trunks that housed our dance costumes and laying the outfits out on one of the beds.

Let the games begin. Jordan sighed as she picked up the first suit and started the examination.

We had checked all the costumes, accessories, and props over for the next half hour and had just moved onto the last two sets. We pulled out gold body suits, white sparkly fishnet tights, and large white feather fans as we examined each piece carefully. This season’s show was about making us all matching, and the same, with mostly matching costumes. It was different every time, but I appreciated these costumes were at least more traditional burlesque. A couple years ago we did a show that felt very much like a fetish, with a not-so-subtle hint of schoolgirl in the performance and attire.

I think this fan is molting a bit. Is that the right word? Molting? Jordan asked, holding up a fan which was starting to lose its feathers.

Jordan was tall and thin with beautiful dark skin, and she had her curly black hair pulled tight into a ponytail on the top of her head. She was incredibly captivating to the people that came to see the show, and commanded attention with her presence. Like she had a natural main character energy in every situation, and people were willing to immediately accept her into any leadership roll. She was one of the girls they put up front as much as possible.

Yeah, that’s going to need to be fixed I hummed, looking it over as I reached to feel the balding spots with my fingers. Maybe ask Tara if she has any of the white swan costume from last year. We can use the feathers from that. I suggested, dropping my hand, and turning back to look at the piles before us.

That’s a good idea. She said quietly then paused for a second and I looked over to her smiling to herself. She caught my eye and smiled bigger to me. Hey, do you know what size Katie is? We might need to take one of these body suits in. Poor girl doesn’t have the property to fill in the tops real-estate if you know what I mean. she giggled but I just looked down at the suits again, now thumbing black fabric sticking out of the trunk.

I knew she wasn’t trying to be a bitch, I’ve known Jordan the longest of all the girls and she wasn’t that person.

We were in the group home together as teenagers, before the show, and we had the same foster parents for a few weeks when I was 13. Right now, she just wanted to make me smile, or talk really but like I said, I haven’t been doing much of either. Not if I could help it.

Yeah, we might. I said simply. I watched as she pursed her lips out of the corner of my eye and then she turned and walked out the door with the fan. I gave the costumes another look over and stacked the pieces up quickly. We had gone over them yesterday, and the day before, so I knew it was all in order as soon as the fan was fixed.

I reached back into the trunk and pulled out the last of the body suits, these ones black with long feather tails attached to the back. I lifted each one carefully and looked it over for pulled sequence, rips, and loose feathers. They all seemed to be in order except one where the lace was starting to come off the bodice. I thumbed the material and placed the suit over my arm as I turned to follow the voices to the next room where Jordan and Tara were laughing together as Megan was digging in a box on the ground looking for something.

Tara was a tall girl with pale skin and short, straight, chestnut brown hair and brown eyes. She was quiet, and caring, and like me she disappeared into her own head a time or two, but she was very observant and was constantly thinking about something.

Megan on the other hand was an average height girl with flaming red, curly hair that bounced as she moved. She was very calming to be around, despite the fire she grew on her head, and made sure everyone was as comfortable as she could make them. She was the girl that would hold a strangers hair back when they were getting sick or sit with someone that was crying alone. She would do a lot of good if she could be out in the world.

I can’t find any more glue sticks, do you have any? she asked, moving her thick curls back to look over at the others.

Yeah here. Tara said and she handed her the hot glue gun she was holding.

Hey, the lace is coming off here I said, holding the bodysuit up to the room.

Shit, Miss is going to be pissed. I don’t think we have any more of this lace left. Tara said in a panicked voice. Let me see. She said reaching her arm over to take it from me.

I’m sure it just needs some glue, it’s not that bad. I sighed, trying not to sound annoyed. I wasn’t upset