“The rope tightened around my wrists as the truck sped forward. I tried to scream, but a tall, big man covered my mouth; I was truly panicked. A man leaned down close and whispered, ‘Relax, miss. Your father has already paid—just not in cash.’ My stomach tightened. ‘Then what do you want?’ He laughed as if he had waited many years to answer. ‘You.’ The headlights flashed—then I saw the file with my name… and a birth date that was not mine.”
The rope tightened around my wrists as the truck sped forward. I tried to scream, but a tall man’s hand clamped over my mouth, hot and calloused, smelling of cigarettes and engine oil. My name is Avery Caldwell—at least, that’s what my driver used to say when he opened the car door and my mother’s…