Allison Brennan - Breaking Point

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Eighteen Years Ago

Bella Caruso stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror, doubting for a moment that she was actually here . Was this what an out-of-body experience felt like? She knew, intellectually, that she was standing in the cramped bathroom. But she felt nothing. Not the cold, broken tile on her bare feet. Not the pain in her throat. Not the familiar soreness between her legs. Not the warm blood dripping from the knife in her hands.

Then numbness took over and Bella froze, unable to think. Her mind was somewhere else. The only way she had survived the last year

thirteen months, one week, three days

was by shutting everything out. Blocking the pain, the humiliation, the anger. Forgetting her past, living each day beginning-to-end, burying the hope that she might be able to escape.

Until tonight.

The john would have killed her.

She had no choice.

it was him or you, him or you, him or you

Her bruised neck would prove her story. That he had tried to strangle her while he had sex with her. Sergio would have to believe her.

Tommy set you up. He hates you and wanted you to suffer.

Slowly, the reality of her fate broke through the numbness. She would be dead by dawn if Sergio found out she had killed the john, no matter what he had done to her. Whores were a dime a dozen. She was just one whore in the stable, and if one whore could kill a john, the others might get ideas.

youre not a whore, you had no choice

Run away. The idea that there might be help somewhere had long ago been beaten out of her. Run away and disappear. Shed been stealing a little bit here and there, keeping the bills rolled tight in a loose panel of the house she lived in. Lived in? She didnt live in the house. She was kept prisoner there between the parties. Parties? Thats what Sergio called them. Get ready for a party, baby. Forced prostitution. The drinking. The drugs. It was the life.

Bella hated the drugs. Shed gotten really good at faking a high, really good at faking everything in her life, waiting for her opportunity They thought theyd broken her because shed humiliated herself, done things shed never thought she would do, but she kept a tiny ember burning inside, waiting for the moment when she could run. Run fast and keep running.

But hope had been extinguished. Died with that john she knew only by the name Clark.

She had to run, even though Sergio would hunt her down like an animal. He would find her. Hed moved her and the others from city to city to keep them on edge, to prevent them from learning the area, the people, making friends. Pick up a few new girls, sell a few others, and move on. Los Angeles first, then Las Vegas, then Reno, now San Francisco.

Did he know when he moved her to San Francisco that they were now less than two hours from where shed grown up? She didnt know what she would find in Sacramento, but she was closer to regaining the hope shed lost, as she thought about her grandmother. She could walk there. How long would it take her? It was a hundred miles. She could walk ten miles a day, maybe more. If she had food and water, she could walk more. She knew people in Sacramento, people who would help her.

Or a phone. Find a phone and call her brothers best friend. Her brother didnt even know what had happened to her. He was probably on a ship somewhere protecting the country from foreign enemies. He was a hero. He saved people.

Not you.

He didnt know. He couldnt know that their father had given her away.

Bella washed her hands in water that smelled foul. She jumped at a sudden pounding on the bedroom door.

Wrap up the party, we leave in fifteen.

She had to fake it. Fake that everything was okay. Get to the house, grab her stash, and sneak out through the second story window just before dawn, when everyone slept soundest.

She washed off the blood and slid into the short dress shed been forced to wear. She looked at the dead mans watch. Almost four in the morning. She considered running now, but she looked like what she was: a hooker. They were in a small beach house on the north end of the city. She could swim, but it was February and the icy water might kill her before she could reach shore.

No matter what had happened to her since her father sold her into slavery, she had never wanted to kill herself. Other girls had. Other girls had succeeded. But Bella would not give into the pain. She would never break. Never.

So the Bay was out. She could run through the streets, the alleys, hide in the shadows of night. It might work. The police were out of the question. She didnt trust the police. How many had she been forced to screw? Too many. That also meant no hospitals. They would call the police. A fire department, maybe. But would they listen to her? Believe her? Would they call the police or her mother? The second time shed escaped and called her mom from a stolen cell phone, her mother had betrayed her. Sergio had tracked her down and beaten her.

Bella didnt trust anyone.

The only person she trusted was her brother, but he was thousands of miles away, and she had no idea how to reach him.

She knew how to live on her own, on the streets, take care of herself.

Sergios men might shoot her in the back. If she didnt die from a bullet, theyd take her to be tortured by that bastard.

Or, worse, hand her over to Tommy. Sergio ran a business. Bella could sometimes reason with him. Manipulate himif she was very careful. But Tommy was vicious. He enjoyed causing pain. Especially to her. He had almost broken her for good. She let him believe that he had.

She didnt want to die, but right now running was her only chance of survival, slim though it was.

She still had the knife.

Gunfire erupted downstairs. The screams of girls cut through the bullets.

Bella had been in the middle of a gun battle once before, when Sergios operation had been attacked by a rival organization in Las Vegas. Three of her friendsif thats what she could call the girls who hooked with herhad been killed. Bella had been one of the lucky ones.

Or unlucky, depending on how she looked at it.

There was no place to hide. Even the bathroom had no door. The bed was a mattress on the floor. Clarks blood had seeped into the stained bedding.

There was a door leading to the hall. Bella clutched the knife to her chest. It had been Clarks knifea pocket-knife with a four-inch blade. She just wanted to make him stop. Not fucking herthat was her job, thats what she had to do to survivebut hurting her. She hadnt wanted to die.

She stood to the side of the door, right next to the hinges. She could only see shadows and darkness. Maybe, just maybe, they wouldnt see her when they opened the door. Maybe she could escape.

A gun went off right outside of her hiding place and a body collapsed with a grunt. The door opened.

She held her breath, her right hand tight around the knife handle.

youre going to die tonight

No, not tonight. She would kill again if she had to, but this was her best chance of escape. To finally be free.