Chapter 3

The bus finally pulled into a grimy station in a city I didn't recognize from this life, but the dread was familiar.

Ethan, looking tired and defeated, followed me sullenly as I navigated towards the pre-arranged meeting spot he' d been given.

A woman with hard eyes and a cheap, flashy dress leaned against a wall, smoking. Brenda. The human trafficker.

She looked us up and down.

In my past life, I was the disheveled, terrified one. Ethan, though younger then, had a spark of defiance that appealed to her.

This time, I was clean, my clothes neat, my expression composed despite the inner turmoil. I clutched the small bag of leftover snacks.

Ethan was a mess, his hair greasy, clothes rumpled, a desperate hunger in his eyes.

Brenda' s gaze lingered on me. "Well, well. You clean up nice, girlie."

She then glanced at Ethan with disdain. "He looks like he crawled out of a dumpster."

She took a drag from her cigarette. "My discerning client, Mr. Harrison, usually prefers boys. But he appreciates quality." Her eyes raked over me again. "A bit young, and the wrong plumbing, but presentable."

She turned to Ethan. "You... maybe I can find something for you. A different kind of family. Less... prestigious."

Ethan looked confused, then angry. "What? No! I'm supposed to be with a rich man! I dreamed it!"

His vague, misleading "dream-like" memories of his first life' s success were kicking in, twisting his perception of reality. He truly believed he was destined for wealth.

Brenda just laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Dreams, huh? Cute."

She gestured for me to follow her. "Come on, sweetheart. We'll get you settled somewhere decent while we wait for placement."

To Ethan, she just jerked her head towards a dilapidated van. "You, in there. Don't make a mess."

Ethan looked from me, being treated with a modicum of care, to the filthy van he was being herded towards. His face was a mask of disbelief and dawning horror.

He was expecting luxury, a repeat of his distorted memories. He was getting the opposite.

I felt a grim satisfaction. This was just the beginning of his revised fate.

Brenda led me to a slightly cleaner, though still seedy, motel room. "Wait here. Don't touch anything."

She was clearly assessing me as the more valuable commodity this time around, despite my gender not matching her client' s usual preference. My well-kept appearance, a direct result of my actions on the bus, had changed the initial calculus.

Ethan, meanwhile, was probably crammed with other unfortunates, his dreams of grandeur clashing harshly with reality. I hoped he was miserable.