Let me start by saying, I wasn’t the best student in high school. I had a 3.3 GPA, and I didn’t put in much of an effort. However, that is beside the point. At least I had graduated, and at least my dads were proud of me. Yes, that’s right, dads. Emphasis on the “s”. So what if my parents were gay? It didn’t bother me, that’s for sure.
Once I announced I would in fact be graduating, they offered to throw our class’s graduation party at our house. The party started at 10, and it’s now half-past midnight. Two and a half hours in, and the party was in full swing. Almost everyone from my senior class showed up, except for the nerds. I felt pretty bad, I guess they just didn't show up because they felt intimidated by us popular people?
It's really sad because I actually put a lot of effort into this party. My dad got us two cases of vodka, and hired a caterer who made us oysters and other delicacies. On my senior ditch day (which happened to be the day before the party) I went out and bought decorations instead of going with my friends. All of the décor was our school colors; blue and white. I hung streamers and balloons everywhere. I'm sad the others weren't here to see it. Oh well. You can't win with everybody. Anyway, I started to get a little annoyed. The music was loud, the bass was painful. My head was pounding from the four shots I've had. It was getting a little cray cray in there with all of the drinking, so I decided to go for a walk. At night. On the beach. Probably not one of my brightest ideas.
I’m getting close to the pier. I should probably turn back. I spin around, and that’s when I see it. A dark, shadowy figure, leaping out of a nondescript white van which had “AJ’s Upholstery” plastered on the side. And then it hit me: he was running towards me. And not just running, like a full on sprint. As if he was in the Olympics. At this point, I was TERRIFIED. Why was he running at me?!? The next thing I knew, I was on the ground with a cloth over my mouth. I had watched too much Investigation Discovery to know that this rag was absolutely drenched in chloroform. Dammit.
I woke up inside this “AJ’s Upholstery” van, with two men dressed in black at either side, and a third that must have been in the driver’s seat. Duh. Of course I'm bound with rope, unable to make any movement besides an occasional body shift. One of them soon realized I was awake, because as soon as I moved, he smacked me in the face with the butt of his machine gun. And I was out, once again.
The next time I awoke, I was no longer in the van. In fact, I was no longer in a car of any kind! I realized I was in a wheelchair, in the Narita Tokyo International Airport. I try and scream, but nothing comes out. The must have given me some kind of tranquilizers. The drugs are so strong, I can barely move. God, the people walking by must think I'm an invalid! Damn these people! How did they fly me all of the way from Los Angeles to Tokyo unnoticed? Maybe the wheelchair was a disguise…and then I fell asleep, once again.
I woke up on my princess bed, canopy and all. Back in my room; back in Santa Monica. Was this all a dream? Am I awake? I got up out of bed and walked down the grand staircase. In the living room, I saw my parents sitting at the table. But as I got closer to them, I realized that these people were not my dads. They were men, dressed in black. However, this is not what frightened me most. What really scared me was the few words they muttered.
I was brought back to reality with a jolt. The drugs they gave me still haven't worn off, but I have regained some consciousness. Realizing my surroundings, I'm in what looks like the cargo bay of an airport. This can't be a different city...can it? Then I look around, and gasp at what I see. Two other young, blonde girls, who look strikingly similar to me. All of them in a similar drugged-out state. Oh shit. I'm part of a human trafficking operation. And I have no way to escape.