Out to dinner

She jumped up and grabbed the clothes I bought and slipped them on. Once dressed, she stood in place waiting for me to tell her what to do. I reached out and took her arm and led her out to the hallway. She didn't resist and quietly walked beside me as we headed to the hotel restaurant.

We didn't talk much on the way to the restaurant. It was mostly me telling her what to do. She didn't speak unless I asked her a direct question. Mostly she just walked with her head down never looking at me in the eyes.

I on the other hand was lost in thought. Sure I had written about slaves and masters. Usually a cruel master capturing a woman, or blackmailing her into sexual servitude. But this was real life and I was walking with a broken woman and from what limited conversations with her had been **** into slavery for several years, first by her husband, and then when sold a stranger or two. I had no real way of knowing.

I was expecting her to open up and try to tell me more of her story, but she sat quietly across me, not speaking. I even had to order her food and give her permission to eat. I knew I was in over my head, but for some reason, I couldn't let her go just yet. I knew I should call some social agency and get her some help, but I just couldn't, not yet.

We went back to the hotel room, I gathered my things and went down to the lobby and I checked out. I now had to make a decision. I either call the cops, drop her off at a homeless shelter or battered women's shelter, or take her home with me. I led her over to the lobby and sat her down facing me. She didn't move, her legs nervously twitching.

"Carrie, I need to go back home. What do you want?" I asked