CARIBBEAN TEARS

By Emiliya Ahmadova

• Kidnapped, transported, and sold into nightmare and torture. Shelia hopes for escape and despite the torment and degradation at the hands of her captors she befriends the other women trapped with her.

Can Sheila escape and get her life back before it is too late?

Who is re

• Language: English
• Publisher: Womens Voice Publishing House
• Release date: Dec 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9798869288004

Emiliya Ahmadova

Emiliya Ahmadova was born in the city of Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan. When she was just nine years old, she developed a passion for reading, literature, poetry, and foreign languages. In high school, she participated in and won many poetry competitions. Starting at the age of ten, she began writing poems and short stories in Russian.   Emiliya has diplomas in business management as well as a Bachelor of Arts (B.A.) in human resources management. She also has international diplomas in the advanced study of the theory and practice of management, administration, business management, communication, hotel operations management, office management and administration, and professional English from the Cambridge International College, in addition to a certificate in novel writing. Emiliya speaks four languages (Azeri, Russian, English, and some Turkish), but her native language is Azeri. Because of her love for humanity and children, she has started volunteering in a local school and in 2011 became a Cub Scout leader and won a trophy as the first female parent leader. Emiliya likes being around people, adores travel, enjoys playing soccer, and relishes in helping other people.

Book preview

Caribbean Tears

By

Emiliya Ahmadova

This is a work of fiction with graphic content that depicts the horrors of human trafficking. All names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher or author, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Library of Congress Control Number:2019919971

Copyright © 2019 by Emiliya Ahmadova.

All Rights Reserved.

Illustrations inside of the book by IMarts

Illustrations copyright@ Emiliya Ahmadova

Publisher: Women’s Voice Publishing House

In loving memory of my dear granny, Aliya Mehtieva, daughter of Sanan. Sunrise 1939, 15th October and Sunset 8th August 2018. She was an angel who devoted her life to raising me and my siblings.

In memory of my brother Ruslan Ahmadov. Sunrise 28th July 1978- Sunset 25th May 2018. Rest in Peace, my brother.

Please say a prayer for both.

***

This story is dedicated to those who became victims of human trafficking, were killed or raped, or who have lost loved ones by violent death.

Table of Contents

Abducted

The Bitterness Of The Brothel

Gruesome End

Mistaken Identity

Hidden Traces

A Glimpse Of The Hope

Payback Time

Escape

Abducted

Sheila arranged art materials on the table, ready for the orphans who sat around it. The children, ranging in age from six to ten, eagerly awaited their turn. Standing beside her were her ten-year-old son, Ronnel, and six-year-old daughter, Nadia.

Sheila unpacked a bag filled with various items, including empty beer bottles, colorful kite paper, glue, wire sticks, and Ziploc bags brimming with paper petals. As she caught sight of the excited faces before her, a warm smile spread across her lips.

Hi everyone. I am Sheila, she said.

She then turned to her own children, Ronnel and Nadia.

These are my children, Ronnel and Nadia. Today we are going to make beautiful flowers. She picked up a beer bottle. And these bottles will be used to make vases.

Ian, a boy with Down syndrome, touched one of the Ziploc bags.

What are these for? he asked.

Sheila’s attention was focused on him.

Those are the petals we'll use to make the flowers.

Nadia frowned as Ian picked a few petals out of the bag. She went up to him and swiped the bag of petals right out of his hands.

This is mine. Don't touch it!

Sheila gently pulled Nadia away from the table.

Honey, that was not nice at all, Sheila reprimanded.

I don't want them using my stuff, Nadia said, frowning.

Sheila held her daughter’s hand, explaining gently, These children are less fortunate than you. They don't have many toys, and some don't even have parents. It's important to treat them with kindness. Return it to him and apologize.

Nadia reluctantly returned to the table and handed the Ziploc bag to the boy, saying, I'm sorry. You can have it.

Ian accepted the bag with hesitation. Curtis, another boy, looked at Sheila and asked, Aunty, can I have one?

Sure, darling, Sheila replied with a smile.

Sheila turned to her own children and said cheerfully, Would you please distribute the bottles and petals?

Ronnel handed out the bottles while Nadia passed out the Ziplocs. Sheila joined them, distributing glue and wire sticks.

Once everyone had their supplies, Sheila went back to the front of the table, and Nadia sat down beside her. Sheila placed a bottle and other art supplies in front of Nadia, then picked up an empty bottle and a glue stick.

Rub the glue stick all over your bottles, Sheila instructed, watching with a smile as the kids followed her guidance. She then picked up a square of green kite paper.

Now stick the kite paper on the bottle just as I do, Sheila demonstrated.

The children observed as Sheila attached the green kite paper to the bottle and then switched to yellow. Sheila pointed out, You can use any color you want. Keep gluing kite paper to the bottle until it is completely covered.

Excitedly, the children started wrapping the bottles with kite paper. Ronnel stood silently next to the table, observing their progress. Sheila walked around the table, helping where needed. After a while, she picked up a wire stick and announced, Attention, everyone. We are now going to make flowers. Hold your wire sticks in your hands.

Sheila demonstrated the process by selecting a flower petal, applying glue, and attaching it to the wire. She repeated the steps with the remaining petals, crafting a beautiful pink blossom. Inspired by Sheila's example, most of the kids successfully created their own beautiful flowers. However, Ian seemed to struggle.

Aunty, I can’t make a flower, he said with a frown.

Sheila walked over to him, gently patting his head. Never, ever say ‘I can't.’ With hard work and perseverance, you can achieve anything.

Ian handed Sheila his wire, and she attached a petal to it. After sticking a few more petals on, she handed it back to him, saying, Now you try it, but be careful not to use too much glue.

Ian carefully applied glue to a petal and pressed it onto another petal. With a bright smile, he looked up at Sheila.

Aunty Sheila, I did it! I did it!

Well done. Keep going, Sheila praised him.

Faith looked up at Sheila, holding a colorful flower in her hand. Miss, I’m finished, she said.

Sheila approached Faith and examined her flower. Impressed, she instructed, It's beautiful. Put it in the vase.

Faith followed Sheila's guidance, placing her creation in the vase. The children spent the remainder of their time making more flowers.

One sunny afternoon, Miguel, the husband of Sheila and a police officer, was at Uncle Ben's bar. He sat at a round table, enjoying his favorite cow-heel soup. There were five other customers sitting at different tables, consisting of three males and two females. A waitress stood next to a customer, taking order, while the owner was at the front counter, busy writing something. Suddenly, a young man wearing a hoodie entered the bar and quickly approached the owner, pointing a firearm at him.

Pass over de cash! he ordered.

In shock, the bar owner stared at the weapon, and the waitress screamed, running towards an exit and accidentally knocking over a chair. The thief turned around and shot at her, hitting her shoulder. The woman collapsed to the floor, pretending to be dead. The intruder glared at the patrons, keeping his gun aimed at them.

If you move, all you dead! he threatened.

Then, his attention shifted back to the bar owner.

You deaf or what? Give me my blasted money!

With his eyes fixed on the gun, the bar owner opened the cash register. He was sweating profusely, and his hands trembled. The burglar looked at the outside door and then back at the owner.

"You better move fast!

Slowly, Miguel stood up and drew his own weapon. He aimed it at the thief, who noticed him in the mirror above the bar. The intruder spun around and fired a stray shot at Miguel, narrowly missing him. The bar owner took cover behind the counter as Miguel fired back, hitting the burglar in the forehead. The thief fell to the floor, lifeless, with blood flowing from his wound.

Miguel rushed over to him, quickly surveying the scene. The waitress sat up, trembling with fear, her blouse covered in blood. The bar owner got to his feet and moved towards the corpse.

Stay away! Miguel ordered, keeping them at a distance.

Two male customers attempted to leave, but Miguel instructed them to stay until the police arrived. He urged someone to call an ambulance. The customers returned to their table, while Miguel took out his cell phone and made a call.

Hey Sameer. I am at Ben's bar. We just had a robbery attempt here. The waitress got wounded and I killed the robber. Bring out your crew.

After hanging up, Miguel waited for the police to arrive. They took statements from the witnesses and removed the thief's body.

The next day, Errol, a gang leader, and his sister, Anne Marie, stood in the morgue before a refrigerator. Errol, as usual, wore sunglasses. The mortician opened the door and pulled out a tray, revealing the corpse uncovered up to the waist. Anne Marie trembled, initially avoiding looking at the corpse, but eventually giving in. As she looked at her son's lifeless body, she began to feel lightheaded.

As she clutched Errol's arm tightly and clenched her fist, tears welled up in her eyes. She turned to her brother, her voice choked with grief. I would like to be alone with my son.

Anne Marie then glanced at the mortician.

Sure, he answered.

Errol placed a comforting hand on his sister's back.

You want me to stick around? he asked.

Anne Marie shook her head, not removing her eyes from the corpse.

No, just let me have some time alone with him.

Errol and the mortician left the room. Anne Marie moved closer to her son, her heart heavy with sorrow, and stared at him through tear-filled eyes. When she saw the bullet hole, her vision blurred with anguish. She held onto the tray to steady herself and gently stroked her son's cheek.

Son why have you not been careful? So many times, I warned you, but you just wouldn't listen. Her voice quivered with grief.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a handkerchief.

No mother should witness the death of their child. You had a whole life ahead of you. I was hoping to see you get married and have your own children.

Anne Marie tenderly caressed her son's cheek, her voice filled with pain.

Your entire future was dashed by that police officer. He snatched you away from me.

As she dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief, her gaze shifted to the hole in her son's forehead.

I gonna make he pay for what he do to you. He gonna suffer like I suffer!

She leaned down and kissed her son's forehead gently.

Rest in peace, my son.

With a heavy heart, Anne Marie hastily left the room, almost colliding with the mortician and Errol. Ignoring their presence, she passed them without uttering a word and made her way toward the exit. Her brother followed her without saying a word.

Outside, Anne Marie paused and stared at Errol, her eyes filled with a mix of hatred and pain.

Make whoever did this pay for it. Kill he loved ones right in front he eyes!

Errol calmly pulled out a cigar and lit it.

Revenge will not bring him back.

I don't care. He cannot live and enjoy his life when my son is no more. Anne Marie spat out angrily.

They walked towards Errol's black Mazda. Anne Marie settled in the back seat, her face etched with anguish, while Errol took his place behind the wheel. Errol reached for his phone and dialed a number.

Find de police officer who cause my nephew's death. See if he has any family.

A voice on the other end of the line inquired, What you planning to do?

Not your blasted business. Just do what you were told! Errol declared.

Putting away his phone, Errol turned around to look at his sister. Anne Marie was still dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

Don't worry, sis. He will feel the wrath of justice soon.

He started the engine and lost in thought, drove away.

At midday, with the sun shining brightly overhead, Sheila sat behind the wheel, making her way back home. Her mother, Khalisha, accompanied her in the back seat.

I hope you done with all your Christmas shopping by now! Sheila’s mother exclaimed.

Not yet. I still need to find a gift for Miguel, Sheila replied, her attention briefly shifting to a Venezuelan family as they neared their home.

On a street corner, a man held up a cardboard sign reading Help Us, Please, accompanied by his wife and three children. When Sheila spotted them, she slowed down.

Mummy, grab twenty dollars from my purse, Sheila requested.

The horn honked from the vehicle behind them, prompting Sheila to glance in the rearview mirror.

Stupid driver, Sheila muttered in annoyance.

Girl, just keep driving. Dem people don't deserve any help. They are hoping to get sympathy from us by bringing their children along, Khalisha remarked.

Sheila continued driving, contemplating the situation.

Maybe they don't have nowhere safe to leave the children. We don't know their story, so we cannot judge them.

They should go back to Venezuela, if life is tough for them in here, said Khalisha.

Sheila pulled up in front of her house, parking the vehicle. She reached into her purse and took out twenty dollars.

Please go inside. I'll be right back, Sheila instructed. She pressed the button on the remote to lock the gate behind her. Unaware that the woman with short, dark hair was following her, Sheila strolled towards the beggars. Upon approaching them, she handed over the money.

This is for you, Sheila said.

May God bless you, the beggar replied with a smile.

Sheila looked at the children, concern evident on her face.

Please don't bring your children with you to beg on the streets. It's not good for them.

The female beggar smiled without uttering a word. Sheila walked back home.

7th December, 7 p.m.

The strong wind swirled the dust from the ground and swayed the tree branches. Rain showers quickly followed, making the roads muddy and dangerous. The accompanying thunder roared like a hungry lion in search of prey.

Father Piero sat in his living room, his gaze fixed on the television screen in front of him. What was on the news was far more important than the raging weather outside.

The reporter was saying, "With only a few days until New Year's, the murder rate continues to rise, promising to make this year one of the worst this island has ever seen. Another life was lost yesterday. A farmer discovered the partially burned body of a man of African descent near the Poreto forest. This most recent victim was bound to a tree. He was dressed casually in jeans and a blue T-shirt. He had no identification on him. The 491st murder victim of the year has yet to be identified by the police. WCB police station is requesting information from anyone who might know his identity.

There is yet another case of domestic violence. An inebriated husband slashed his wife's hands with a cutlass, and she was rushed to the hospital. The woman is in stable condition but might never be able to use her hands again due to deep tissue damage."

A gust of wind blew into Father Piero's humble home, and rain slashed through his living room without warning. Lightning flashed across the firmament, lighting up his surroundings for a moment, particularly the section of the wall where a massive cross hung. Father concentrated on it and made the sign of the cross.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Have mercy on our nation.

He then dashed to the window, slamming it shut. He looked out the window at the deserted street and across the street at his friend Miguel's two-story white house. Miguel had to leave his family alone while working night shifts, so Father Piero always kept an eye on his house, like a loyal watchdog ensuring his owners' safety.

Hmm. Miguel hasn't returned home yet. I told him to switch from night shifts to day shifts. But then he'd need to cease his nighttime adventures! Which he flatly refuses to do.

A lightning strike illuminated the sky once more. Father Piero's keen eyes noticed dark shadows moving through the sky. His brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to figure out what those dark masses were. Shivers swept over his body.

Why am I feeling as if something weird is going to happen? I do not like this peculiar sensation at all!

He flinched nervously, crossed himself again, and closed the curtains. Then he sank back into his armchair.

Sheila, Miguel’s wife, sat on the bed while her two children snuggled under the sheet in her spacious cream-colored bedroom. She was reading The Brave Mouse to them.

And the brave mouse lived happily ever after, Sheila said as she placed the book on the bedside table.

Thunder clapped and echoed in her bedroom, sending shudders into six-year-old Nadia’s body. She seized her mother’s hand.

Mummy, I'm afraid. Lie down next to me.

What are you afraid of, Princess? Sheila inquired, and her face lit up with a smile.

Thunder. It makes such a scary noise.

Her mother brushed her daughter's hair.

There's nothing scary about it. It's nothing more than a hollow sound.

Why Daddy taking so long to reach home, Mummy? Ronnel, a ten-year-old boy, inquired. With his short stature and slim figure, he could pass for a seven-year-old.

Sheila looked at her watch. His night shift hasn't finished yet.

She took her phone from the bedside table and tried to call him, but his phone just rang and rang.

Why isn’t he answering? He sure has been behaving oddly lately.

Ronnel's voice interrupted her thoughts.

He has never worked this late before. Now he's getting home after we've gone to bed.

She leaned in close and ruffled his short black hair.

Nosy parker. He used to work in the mornings, but now he works in the evenings.

She switched off the ceiling light but left the wall light above the bed on. Then she lay down on the bed between her children.

It's getting late. So just close your eyes and try to sleep.

Nadia wrapped her arms around Sheila and rested her head on her chest. She then lifted it and turned to face her mother.

Can you please read another story, Mummy?

No, no, no! Put your head down and sleep.

Nadia closed her eyes. Sheila cuddled her and they lay silently together till they all fell asleep.

Miguel left the police station at 4 a.m., feeling ill, and slowly drove his Mercedes-Benz home. He had intended to visit his usual hangout after work, but the stomach bug stopped his plans. He rubbed his stomach with one hand as he drove.

No, boy, I can’t go there like this.

His eyes kept closing, and he fought to stay awake, trying to focus on the road ahead of him.

I shouldn’t have eaten peppery doubles.[1]

When he looked in his rearview mirror, he noticed a speeding jet-black cargo van approaching from behind him. Its windows were heavily tinted, concealing both the driver and the passengers.

Miguel pressed the door's lock button. Then he reached into the storage compartment and touched his pistol.

I should stop that car and issue a speeding ticket.

On the left side of the road, a cargo van attempted to pass him. Miguel stepped on the gas and swerved into the left lane, landing directly in front of the van. The driver of the van slowed and changed lanes. Both cars came to a complete stop in front of the traffic light.

Eh, boy! You rushing to meet sweet ting or what? Miguel exclaimed, trying to catch a glimpse of the driver.

When the light turned green, Miguel turned left, drove between some houses, and parked in front of his gate. His cell phone fell on the wet asphalt and rolled under the car as he got out of the driver's seat.

Shocks man.

He knelt beneath the Benz and picked the cell up.

The van came to a halt five houses away from Miguel's. The two passengers got out of the van and looked around cautiously. They were wearing masks and black gloves.

One of them was Candice, also known as Candy, and the other was Leroy. He was better known as Cyclops since he had lost an eye and now wore an artificial one. They had Beretta 9mm pistols and 14 rounds of 9mm ammunition with them.

The Cyclops, who was tall and slender, pointed to Miguel.

Let's go and grab him before anybody sees us, he added.

Errol stayed inside the van. He rubbed his beard before rolling down the window.

Remember, we need her alive and unhurt! he said.

What about Miguel and his little bastards? Cyclops questioned, puzzled.

Errol's expression hardened, his eyes glinting with vengeance, Kill dem all. He leave my sister without she child. He must face the consequences.

He go suffer more if you let him live but kill he family right before he eyes. You don't think that’s the best option? Candice suggested.

Errol hit the steering wheel, and when he did, a white plated-gold skull ring encrusted with diamonds caught Candy’s attention.

"Hmm. That makes sense. Do it! After that, his life will indeed be meaningless."

Hey, don’t forget dis!

Errol handed Cyclops a plastic bag containing a soaked rag.

Miguel pushed open his gate and dashed towards the door, drenched to the skin. He searched his pockets for his keys but couldn't find them. He rang the doorbell incessantly.

I could have left them in the office.

He's now standing by the door. Get him! said Errol.

Cyclops ran up to Miguel's house and into his yard.

Errol pulled a black bag from the passenger seat and handed it to Candy through the window.

Take it and flee! Make no foolish decisions.

Candy grabbed the bag and ran away. As he rolled up the window, Errol leaned back in his seat.

These two chupidy[2], have no intelligence. When all of this is done, I go get rid of dem too, especially Candice. She is getting too soft.

In the midst of his sprint, Cyclops yanked the rag from its plastic bag. He slipped into the yard and snuck up on Miguel in the shadows. He wrapped his right hand around Miguel's throat and tried to put the rag on his nose.

Miguel hit Cyclops with his elbow as he tried to turn around. However, as Cyclops’ grip tightened around his throat, Miguel began choking. With both hands, Miguel clutched at the hand that was taking life out of him, which allowed Cyclops to put the chloroform-soaked rag over Miguel’s nose. With all his might, Miguel kept trying to pull Cyclops’ hand away from his throat.

Miguel blacked out. The thug dropped him on the ground by the door. Candy ran up to them, out of breath.

Damn it, I’m soaking! she said loudly.

You dotish, or what?[3] Someone might hear you, whispered Cyclops. Candy noticed that his hands were shaking.

Cyclops rang the doorbell as his accomplice’s eyes darted over at the neighbors’ windows. The doorbell chimed impatiently, filling the whole house with its disturbing noise. Ronnel opened his eyes and lay staring at the ceiling for a moment. Nadia sat up and looked over at the bedroom door, her eyebrows raised. Then her attention shifted to her mother.

Mummy, Mummy, get up! Daddy came! Nadia said as she shook her mother's hand.

Ronnel got out of bed, and Sheila opened her eyes.

What happened?

The doorbell is ringing, Ronnel said.

Sheila jumped up and dashed out of the room. She noticed her children following her as she approached the stairs.

Go back to your rooms! she exclaimed.

She hurried to open the door for her husband and left them on the top of the staircase.

Why can’t he open the door himself? Is he drunk again?

Ronnel glanced at his sister.

Go to your room! he told her.

I don't want to be by myself. Lightning could enter my room and burn me, Nadia said.

You're a fool. Lightning cannot burn you.

Nadia took Ronnel's hand in hers. Let's go, she suggested.

The kids went back to their parents' room instead of their own. They snuck under the sheet on the bed, hoping that their parents would not force them to leave.

Sheila opened the front door without checking through the peephole. Before she could react, Cyclops dashed inside. Sheila screamed and ran for the stairs.

Help!

As she grasped the stairwell railings and prepared to take the first step, he grabbed her hair.

Help me, help me! she yelled. The lightning struck again.

Ah chut! You dottish woman.[4]

Her pleas for help rang out in the children's ears. They jumped off the bed quickly but were frozen in fear. It was as if they were glued to the floor. Their gaze swept the room, looking for a hiding place. Then, both ran to hide behind the curtain.

Cyclops yanked back on Sheila's hair, forcing her to take a few steps back.

If you say another word, I go bust your brain to pieces, he threatened," pointing the Beretta at her head. He cast a quick glance toward the kitchen entrance.

His accomplice walked into the corridor, carrying a black duffel bag. She threw it on the floor.

Why you leave him outside? she asked in a shaky voice. Somebody might notice him.

Drag him inside and tie up he hands, said Cyclops.

Move yuh ass[5] to de kitchen! he ordered his captive, pushing her roughly. She dragged her legs to the kitchen, shaking like a leaf and ready to collapse at any moment.

Sit on dat[6] stool! he ordered.

She turned to face him and, with pleading eyes, touched his hand.

Please take whatever you wish and go, she said.

He pushed her hand away, avoiding eye contact. She could smell the odor of alcohol emanating from him. The scent was so strong that she felt dizzy.

Listen, you woman. Doh make dis ting hard for yourself. Glue yourself to dat stool and hush yuh mouth!

Quivering, Sheila quietly dropped down on the stool.

Upstairs behind the curtain, Nadia wet herself. Her knees quivered uncontrollably. She embraced her brother tightly.

Why was Mummy shouting? whispered Nadia. Her teeth chattered.

Lip-seal your mouth. They're going to hear you, he replied in hushed tones.

The boy grabbed his sister's wrist and drew her into the closet. He shoved her deep within, behind the clothes. He tiptoed to the door, trembling.

Please don't leave me alone here, she begged.

Ronnel returned his gaze to the closet and placed his finger on his lips. Sweat beads rolled down his brow.

Stop talking! They gonna find we.

Candy dragged Miguel through the door and dumped him in the corridor. Then she walked over to close the door. After that, Candice took some ropes from her bag and tied Miguel's hands behind his back before tying his legs together.

Cyclops walked up to the window and peered out. Then his attention was drawn to Sheila. He approached her with his weapon aimed at her head.

No! No, please! Let us go! Sheila begged him, staring into his fiery eyes.

All you women don’t understand de simple instructions.

Sheila turned her head toward the entrance