I Was Trafficked, So I Became Their Worst Nightmare

I got kidnapped. I told the traffickers, "You can sell me, but I get to pick the buyer, and I keep the money." The home I meticulously chose was perfect. The guy was a domestic abuser who had already beaten three wives to death. I was number four. The first time we met, he smiled so happily. I was even happier. Finally, I could beat someone to a pulp without holding back. I was at the mall, sipping an iced coffee in the air conditioning, when an older woman approached me and begged for a favor. I could tell at a glance she was up to no good, but I went with her anyway. Mostly because my days were agonizingly boring, and I had nothing to look forward to in life. On the road, she kept making up excuses about why we hadn't reached our destination yet. I just looked at her and smiled. When I was shoved into the back of a van, I didn't struggle. When I was locked in a dark room with a few other girls, I didn't cry. They looked at me like I was a monster. I looked at them like they were useless garbage. If they had the energy to sit around and cry, why weren't they thinking of a way to escape? Was every path truly blocked? Or had they just weighed the pros and cons and decided to sit around daydreaming, hoping some knight in shining armor would swoop in and save them? I smashed the boarded-up window open with one punch and told them to jump. Instead, one of the girls started screaming at the top of her lungs. I backhanded her across the face. "Idiot." The kidnapped girls cowered in the corner, sobbing. The ringleader of the trafficking ring came storming in, cursing his head off. Just as he raised his hand to slap me, I caught his wrist and drove my fist squarely into his gut. "Argh—!" A pathetic shriek ripped from his throat. I grabbed him, flipped him over my shoulder, and slammed him onto the floor. I planted my foot firmly on his chest. I heard the distinct, satisfying crunch of ribs breaking. "Ah! God, it hurts, it hurts..." So human traffickers feel pain too. I figured since their consciences had been eaten by dogs, they’d be numb to it by now. A few more of them rushed into the room, men and women. A punch here, a kick there, and I dropped them one by one. They were genuinely, pathetically weak. I dug through their pockets, pulled out their cash, and tossed it to the cowering girls. I raised an eyebrow. "Are you leaving or not?" "Aren't you coming? Come with us." I shook my head. Leave? Leave and go where? Back to that massive, empty house? Without my mom, without my little brother, what was I going back for? For these girls I had met by chance, I had done all I could. Whether they made it back safely, whether they called the cops, whether the police caught these scumbags—none of that was my problem anymore. So, as the battered traffickers scrambled to escape, I followed them and hopped right into their van. "..." They stared at me in absolute terror. "Drive. What are you looking at me for? Aren't you traffickers? Don't you want to sell me to recoup your losses?" They didn't dare kick me out, so they gritted their teeth and slammed on the gas. I found it exhilarating. I screamed happily out the window, "Faster! Go faster! Did you not eat breakfast? Or did I not hit you hard enough?" I curled my knuckles and rapped them hard against the driver's skull. Thump, thump, thump. He literally cried while driving. The other traffickers clutched their seatbelts, pale with terror, shivering like leaves. It wasn't that they hadn't tried to ditch me; they just failed. Every time they tried to make a run for it, I hunted them down with perfect precision. "Please, boss, your majesty... we're begging you, just let us go." "It's easy to summon a demon, but hard to send it away," I smiled. "Want me to leave? Sure. Find me a buyer. Find me a family." "Just make sure it's somewhere with pure, old-fashioned folk customs." ... They stared at me in pure horror. They probably thought I was severely brain-damaged. "Deep in the mountains, off the grid, where the cops don't care. I want to find a place where I can really let loose and practice my combat skills. "Also, I get to pick the buyer, and the money goes into my bank account. Whatever he pays you, you have to match it. You tricked me into coming out here, so you owe me compensation." The traffickers nodded furiously like bobbleheads. I picked the buyer myself. Deep in the Appalachian backwoods, where they had electricity but no paved roads. It was a two-hour hike just to reach a dirt road where you could catch a rickety local bus. I chose the man myself, too. He looked thick and rugged, standing about five-foot-nine, looked to be in his forties. Rumor had it he had already bought three wives, and he had beaten all three of them to death. That was exactly how the traffickers pitched him to me. To him, they pitched me like this: College student, virgin, very gentle personality. When he looked at me and smiled, he was practically drooling. I looked at him and smiled back. I smiled even brighter than he did. I had to suppress the overwhelming urge to crack my knuckles. They haggled over the price. Eventually, the man agreed to pay five thousand dollars. The traffickers matched it with another five thousand. Ten grand total. I deposited it in the bank myself. As for the traffickers, I tied them all together, locked them in a motel room, and called the cops on them. I took a bus to the rural town alone, carrying only a backpack. When the man saw me, he looked shocked. "Just you?" I nodded. "I'm hungry. Buy me some food, then let's go home." My willingness completely stunned him, but the confusion in his eyes was quickly replaced by sheer, creeping joy. After all, I looked fantastic. Pale, soft, delicate, completely helpless, and easy to push around. The man blinked, then grinned. "Alright, I'll buy you a couple of hotdogs." I ate my hotdogs as we boarded the rattling local bus. The bus twisted and turned through the mountain passes until it finally stopped at a dirt intersection. "Alright, wifey, we're here. Get off." I followed him off the bus and stared up at the steep, winding, rocky mountain trail ahead. I furrowed my brow, softening my voice to sound delicate and whiny. "I can't walk up that. Carry me." If he didn't carry me, I wouldn't mind unleashing a full MMA combo on him right now. My hands were already itching. The man carried me on his back, trudging up the mountain, panting heavily, sweat pouring down his neck. I enjoyed the scenic mountain views and casually mapped out potential escape routes, just in case. When we stopped to rest, he looked at me, hesitating. "You're walking the rest of the way yourself." "?" I raised an eyebrow, looked at him, and suddenly burst out laughing. While he was still staring at me in confusion, I drove my fist straight into his stomach. He howled, stumbling backward a few steps. When he regained his senses, he roared in fury, "You crazy bitch, I'm gonna beat you to death!" Beat me to death? So when he swung his heavy fist at my face, I caught his wrist, flipped him over my shoulder, and slammed him into the dirt. Before he could even process what happened, I rained punches down onto his gut, one after another. "Why do you think I let you buy me? Because I'm lazy and entitled! I came to your house to be pampered! You can't even carry me up a damn mountain, what use are you?! You pathetic piece of trash." The angrier I got, the faster my fists fell. At first, he was still cursing and screaming, but eventually, he just started begging for mercy. "Stop hitting me! Stop hitting me!" I finally got tired. I sat down on a nearby rock and glared at him coldly. He lay on the dirt like a dead dog. I stood up and kicked his leg. "Get up. Carry me up the mountain." "..." The path up the mountain was treacherous. I was actually a little worried he might try to throw me off a cliff, so I unclipped one of my backpack straps and wrapped it twice around his neck like a leash. "If I die, you die with me." They say a man with nothing to lose fears no one. But I was someone who didn't even care if I lived or died. Even though the man was hissing in pain with every step, he didn't dare complain, let alone try anything funny. I didn't even have to look at him to know his eyes were burning with pure, murderous hatred, plotting how he was going to make me suffer once we got home. The deeper into the mountains we went, the more excited I felt. When we entered the village, the locals—young and old alike—stared at me the way leeches smell blood, or wolves see meat. They greeted the man with drooling grins. "Hey Cletus, is this your new wife?" "Real tender. Mighty pretty." "Cletus, you know the old rules, right..." The older women looked at me with deep disdain, as if I were something filthy. The younger ones just looked at me with numb, hollow pity. The little kids ran behind us out of curiosity, asking, "Uncle Cletus, is this your new wife?" Cletus's house was noticeably nicer than the rest of the village. While others lived in rundown wooden shacks or trailers, his house was built of solid stone and brick, with a massive yard. An older woman in a floral blouse walked out. Seeing Cletus carrying me, her face twisted in anger. "What's this? She ain't got legs? You have to carry her?!" Cletus set me down. She was clearly used to ruling the roost. Cursing under her breath, she marched up to me and reached out to pinch my arm. "Listen here, you little—" I grabbed her wrist and, with a quick twist, dislocated her arm. "Ahhhh—!" A scream like a slaughtered pig echoed through the yard. Cletus barely had time to yell "Mom!" before I had already raised my hand and slapped her across the face a dozen times. I beat her until her face was bruised and swollen, effectively shutting her up. "You fucking—" Cletus snarled, lunging at me. I shoved his mother aside and smoothly executed a flawless beatdown on him, making absolutely sure I broke at least one arm and one leg. "Ah! Ah! Stop hitting me!" Cletus's pathetic wails were even louder than his mother's. The village kids who had followed us to watch the show stood frozen in utter shock. One of them yelled, "Cletus is getting beat up by his new wife!" Cletus's father was the third person to try his luck. He charged at me swinging a rusted machete. I kicked the blade right out of his hand, followed it up with a few rapid-fire punches, and fractured his old bones. I watched the family of three huddle together in the dirt, shivering and groaning in agony. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted two little heads peeking out from the doorway. I curled my finger at them. "Come here." They were two incredibly skinny, frail little girls, probably around ten years old. They were actually very pretty, with huge, terrified eyes full of caution. "Do you know how to cook? I'm hungry." They nodded frantically. "Go fry me six sunny-side-up eggs. "And listen to me, little ghosts. You better be good. Because I don't just beat them. I'll beat you too." When I go crazy, I run over everyone equally. I don't discriminate by age or gender. The two girls were terrified of me, but they were even more terrified of Cletus and his parents. So, right in front of their eyes, I gave Cletus and his parents another brutal kicking. "Remember this. From now on, I run this house. Now go make my food." The closed front gate did nothing to stop the prying eyes of the village. People were peering through the cracks in the wood; some were even climbing up to look over the stone wall. Seeing me sitting in a chair like a reigning queen, while Cletus and his parents cowered in the corner shivering, someone yelled out, "Cletus, you absolute coward! Hit her!" "I'm telling you, these women need to be beaten! You beat 'em a few times, and they fall right into line..." So annoying. They were so loud I couldn't even properly savor the post-beatdown dopamine rush. I picked up a sharp stone from the dirt and flicked it hard. "Ow! My teeth, my teeth..." A man clutched his bleeding mouth, screaming in pain. Someone saw me flick the stone and pointed a shaking finger at me, screeching, "It was her! Cletus's new bitch threw that rock..." "Bubba, get in there and beat that bitch to the ground! You can't let her disrespect our whole town!" Fueled by the rage of losing his teeth and the egging on of the crowd, Bubba let the adrenaline go straight to his head. He vaulted over the stone wall and charged at me. "I'll kill you, you dirty whore!" I had actually held back on Cletus's family. I figured I wanted to beat them up for fun every single day, so I couldn't kill them all at once. But seeing the righteous indignation of these backwoods villagers, I knew my days here wouldn't be boring. So I didn't hold back on Bubba. I drove my fist straight into his face. Teeth and blood sprayed across the dirt. The crowd yelling "kill her, beat that bitch to death" instantly went dead silent. "Stop hitting me, stop hitting me..." Bubba slurred his pleas, dropping to his knees and slamming his forehead against the dirt repeatedly. So men really do feel pain. When they realize they can't win, they really do beg for mercy. "Mayor Caldwell is here!" Someone bravely jumped down from the wall and scurried over to unlock the front gate. Mayor Caldwell was a scrawny, dark-skinned man in his sixties. He walked into the yard with his hands clasped behind his back, exuding authority and fury—though he kept a safe distance from me. "So you're Cletus's new wife? You've got some nerve, causing a scene in my town..." "Are you afraid to die?" I asked the Mayor, flashing him a bright, ecstatic smile. "Because I'm not." Being challenged so brazenly, the Mayor's wrinkled face twitched in rage. His absolute authority in this holler could not be challenged by a mere woman. He rattled off a string of names. "Take her down." A dozen rugged men rolled up their sleeves and marched toward me. I literally squealed in excitement. "Come at me all at once!" This time, I didn't pull my punches. Watching them drop to the dirt one by one, my adrenaline spiked higher and higher. Finally, the last one collapsed, sobbing and begging me to stop.

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