by Hayley Smyth
Benny walked in first, pushing me out the way, and his thick frame crouched down in front of the girl. “Come on, time for a shower.” He sounded firm but not cruel.
The girl, no older than fifteen, looked at him and then towards me; she didn't speak fucking English.
Sighing, I joined Benny, crouching beside him, and together, we both took an arm, our fingers slipped around with no problem, the girl underweight and malnourished. To my surprise, she didn't fight us, and she sobbed as we led her into the shower room.
It was a large space with faded duck-egg green tiles, the white floor, stained with blood, dipped inward towards the plug, there were no windows and only one working light.
Someone had already put out several pairs of cheap-looking sandals, and I stood back and let Benny take charge. He ushered the girl beneath a tap and gestured for her to wash. Meekly, she nodded, turning her back on us, revealing her spine, her shoulders jutting out in unnatural ways. Poor bitch, I thought.
We were both silent as she washed, making quick work of scrubbing her flesh, the dirt and blood swirled into the plug, and I shuddered. My mind wandered to her family, did she have one? Had she been in school? Had she been taken from the US or snatched from her motherland? All these questions and she couldn't tell us. She was just another statistic, another number in a newspaper report, another life that the world would not stop for.
Five minutes soon ended and, without so much as a towel, we led her into the open space once more and handcuffed her to a small bench, the sandals were far too big for little feet, and she had kept tripping. Now, she would wait while we dealt with the others.
The remaining girls were all American, and neither did they fight us. They each washed without a word, let us lead them into the room, and then before long, all the girls were clean, naked and chained together in a single line by their hands and ankles. We were to march them through The Mansion. There was no secret tunnel where they could hang on to, perhaps, their last bit of dignity, no, they were to be paraded around like circus animals.
Ella.
“Any sign of him?” I asked Marnie, who was sitting cross-legged on my bed, dressing gown wrapped around her frame, hair in curlers.
She shook her head. “No, babe. But that doesn't mean he's gone.”
I turned my gaze back towards my open bedroom window and looked at the flurry of activity below. Caterers were beginner to arrive, wait staff who'd help Marnie and me, and men Vladimir would want at the top table all piled into the mansion.
“I know,” I sighed. “The girls should be ready now, shouldn't they?”
Marnie got off the bed and walked over to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “You'll be fine, babe, I'm always here.”
I smiled at her, and then she left for the parlor. I say parlor, but it was the smallest room in the whole place, one wardrobe full of clothes, nothing too expensive but things pretty enough. There was a dressing table, mirror, and it was Marnie's duty to make the girls look presentable. Anxiety and ferocious panic gnawed at my intestines; thank God this only happened three times a year, each one chipped away at my ever-weakening soul and spirit.
I had a few hours to kill before Marnie would help me get ready, and so I decided to spend it outside, away from the chaos and in the sunshine, nothing but peace and normality.
Barefoot and still in my nightdress, I left my bedroom and headed downstairs. It just happened to be the same time Jax was trailing up them, eight girls chained behind him, Benny at the back of the line. Looking away, not wanting to see him like that, I hurried, wanting the fresh air even more now.
The patio doors slid open, I closed them behind me and finally, silence.
It was a beautiful day, the bluest sky, no clouds, and a hot sun. There was the softest of breezes, and it was perfect.
I sat by the pool, feet in the water and closed my eyes. Every time I did, all I could see was that picture. That grainy black and white picture of a child, my child? Who knew? It was then when I wondered about the children born in this world and what happened to them. Never once had I asked Vladimir if there were more unwanted babies of Purgatory, nor did I ask Marnie. The subject was far too sensitive, too taboo, too close to home.
And then I saw Jax, the grim look on his beautiful features, the Lord only knew how he'd felt about being given that job. The girls would have spent over three months in that cell without being let out once; it very nearly happened to me. Vladimir thought I would make him the prettiest penny ever, then decided against it. Jozef had been on at him about creating an heir to Vlad's blackened, evil throne, and I guessed I was as good as any a woman to reproduce with, and she had been a girl, cursed through no fault of her own. Oh, how my heart ached.
It ached for another reason, too. That kiss. That kiss that had kept me awake for a long time. The kiss that I'd only ever read about in books. If Vladimir found out, my death would be slow and torturous, as for Jax? Who knew what he'd do to a man? He'd beheaded men for less in previous years.
My quiet was soon disturbed, the patio doors sliding open behind me, startling me from my wandering thoughts.
“Hello, sweet wife,” Vladimir said, joining me beside the pool. “Getting some air, are we?” He asked, squeezing my thigh.
My heart stopped every time he touched me. Every time his hands were on me, I felt sick. “Yes, Marnie is busy with the girls, so I thought I'd come outside for a little while. Keep out the way,” I tried to smile.
His gaze looked off into the distance, his brow marred with deep lines that grew thicker each day. There was something on his mind, as though he were a real human, and for a split second, I almost forgot all the atrocities he'd committed.
“I dreamed of my mother last night, Ella,” he declared, wringing his hands together. He looked at me and my surprised expression; in all the years I'd known him, he never spoke of her.
Giving a soft chuckle, he continued. “I know, crazy, huh?”
Swallowing nerves, I asked, “What was she like?”
“A whore,” he said, deadpan, gaze moving back to the horizon. “My father was a proud man, Ella, yet somehow, he'd become besotted with her. Just shy of eighteen when she fell pregnant. She never wanted me, and my father was more than happy to take me on by himself.”
I didn't speak, too scared to interrupt and get myself in trouble, which seemed to be the best thing as he told me more of his story.
“He had her killed two years later, be brought her into this world, given her all she could have dreamed of, and then he spared her life when she admitted to not wanting to stay any longer.” He sighed, lips puffed put as he did so. “But she opened her mouth to a Murdoch of all people two years later. It didn't take long for my father to find out, and she was gone. Just like that.”
Vladimir's dad had been infamous. A legend in his own right to those of the New Mexican underworld. A mean, cruel man with a short temper and old fashioned views. He'd built this empire, brought it back from the brink once his father had passed away, or so I'd heard, and when he died, Vladimir felt as though he had so much more to prove, that he had so much more to achieve.
I didn't know the ins and outs, only ever hearing snippets of his life in passing such as this, but from what I had heard, it was all a competition in the end. One that no man could win because, well, with the previous heirs dead, who could judge? It was all about numbers, money, material things, how many men feared you, how many women would rather sleep with you than say no and risk their lives. The whole world was awful. How Marnie smiled every day was beyond me.
“I never imagined you turning into a whore, sweet wife.” He said, the real Vladimir coming home again. “And yet... it seems you are.”
“What are you talking about?” Oh God, this was it. He knew. He must have known about the kiss, the damned plot to find my darling baby.
“This was the spot, was it not? Where you used that thing between your legs to lure one of my best men to sin?” This whole interaction was terrifyi
ng because he never looked at me, his hands wringing together, his eyes looking forward.
I didn't know what to say. Why was he bringing this up? I'd paid my price, twice over, there was no need for this.
“How did it feel, Ella, to have another man between your legs? Hmm?” He chuckled to himself, and I stiffened beside him. “Was he bigger than me? Did he make you cum, Ella, did your excitement coat his cock the ways yours does for me?”
“Please, stop!” I cried, unable to listen to anymore. The delirium was astounding.
Getting to his feet, he patted me on the head once, twice, and then gripped my hair in a tight fist, yanking my head back, so I was looking at him upside down.
He came within a few inches of my face and spit flew from his lips as he spoke. “Mark my words, sweet wife, if any other man takes what is rightfully mine, if you lure and seduce anyone else, I'll fucking slit your throat and then his, your souls will forever be trapped in here Purgatory. You understand?”
I couldn't move, my neck was straining, my eyes brimming with tears, my voice lost, this angered him, of course, and he yanked harder, causing me to fly against the concrete, my head smacking the floor. “Understand?” He spat.
I nodded frantically. “Y-y-Yes, Vladimir.”
Patting my cheek, he smiled, toothy and crooked. “Good girl, now go and get ready, you look disgusting.”
And with that, Vladimir, my husband, and captor, my savior and penance, stalked away, leaving me crying in a heap on the floor.
Chapter Seventeen
Jax.
With the girls now in Marnie's care and Benny guarding outside, I had an hour or so to myself before I was to get ready, so I headed for my room. The one place I got to find some quiet, reflect on the shit-storm that had been this morning, and to obsess over the look on Ella's face as she walked by.
The bedroom door clicked behind me, and I stripped from the confines of the Purgatory uniform, tossing it into a laundry basket that seemed to empty itself magically. In nothing but my boxers, I set about making myself a drink from the mini bar, stretching aching limbs and cracking a stiff neck as I headed for the floor to ceiling window. My room overlooked the patio area, where the pool was, where Ella had nearly fallen to her death. My eyes were fixated on the gentle ripples of water, my body still when my phone vibrating on the bed disturbed me.
Seeing Carter's name light up the screen, I answered without hesitation.
“Hey, man, how are you”" I asked, sipping the neat whiskey.
There was a heavy sigh on the other end. “The same. Your Ma and Archie are all that's keeping me together right now. I wish you were here, Jax.”
“Me too, bud.”
There was a slight pause, a deafening silence; I had no idea what to say to him.
“Any news on the funeral?” He asked through a stutter.
It was my turn to sigh. “Not yet. Hopefully, once this auction is over with, I'll know more.”
Carter let out a bitter chuckle. “Ah, I wondered why your pops was getting himself suited and booted. I thought the Murdoch's didn't go to these things?”
I downed the last of my drink and made another. “Me neither, seems things are changing.”
“You got that right.”
The change was evident as we experienced our first phone call since Amy. The last time I'd heard Carter over the phone, he'd been full of hope, excitement for the future, that flame had now been extinguished.
“Mindy's been here a lot,” he said.
My eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really? How is she?”
Another loaded sigh. “She's been a goddamn angel, Jax, and she's missing you like crazy, of course.” He tried to laugh, but it was more of a snort.
After a little more stuttered conversation, we said our goodbyes, and I promised I'd get news on Amy's funeral asap. The only problem standing in my way was them refusing to let me see her. There was a sharp nagging at the back of my brain, screaming that I needed to see her body, and it was a feeling I couldn't ignore.
Every day more questions popped up, and the farther away any answers seemed.
Time had sped by; there was now just half-hour before my shift began, so I headed for the shower. I was quick, although I wanted to be anything but, this was a night I'd be dreading the moment I found out I'd be coming here, and I wasn't sure whether I wanted it to start sooner so it would end, or if I could pause time for a while.
As I stepped from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Come in,” I called, paying no mind to who entered, busying myself finding my suit.
“Mr Murdoch,” came the voice, a voice that had the power to do things to me no woman ever had before. “I've brought your vest.”
Turning to face the sweet bird standing unsure at the door, I smiled. Fuck. She looked out of this world. Her red curls spiraled down either side of her face, blue eyes alight, she wore a blue, shimmering gown and in her hands was a bulletproof vest.
I couldn't help myself. Rushing to her, I grabbed the jacket and dumped it on the floor and cupped her head with both hands. Her face, almost healed now, only showed the smallest trace of the violence she endured.
Her hand reached up to hold mine, the slightest touch, and yet it meant so goddamn much, more than she knew. It felt like a breakthrough, even if she still refused to call me Jax.
“How's your back?” She said, her voice a whisper.
“Better. Sore. Fuck my back, bird; you look incredible.” My thumb brushed her jaw, and her pink lips parted, yet her eyes were sad.
“I wish this night had never come. I hate it, and I hate dressing up. I hate what he does and that I can't stop him.”
Her blues filled with tears; all I could do was hold her against my bare chest, hands rubbing her arms. We stayed like that for a few moments, before we witnessed and became unwilling participants in what lay ahead. Every part of me didn't want to let her go, but time continued to tick by, a never-ending punishment, a blessing time was no more.
Pulling away from me, I tried to encourage her with a smile. “We'll get through this.”
Ella returned the smile, although I could tell she took no or little comfort from what I said. “Yes, we will, but those girls won't.”
“Bird, look at me,” I used the tip of my finger to tilt her chin, needing her eyes on me, one last look before I had to leave her. “Remember what I said, yeah? I know we can't save these girls, or all the ones before, but eventually, this whole place and all it stands for will be nothing but ash. A ghostly shell, and we will be far, far away. Trust me, bird?”
There was a harsh knock at the door, Ella jumped back, her back banging on the wood and I tightened the towel around my waist, lowering my voice.
“I'll come find you later, okay?”
She nodded, turned, and then opened the door, much to Benny's surprise.
He grinned, looking between me and then her. “Jax, you ready, man? Things are kicking off downstairs.” Benny stood aside to let Ella passed, her lithe body hurried down the corridor, hands holding a section of her dress so her heels didn't catch the material.
“I just gotta get changed, and I'll be down.”
Benny nodded and left, following Ella's route.
Shutting the door, I looked at the bulletproof vest on the floor, the suit on the bed and swallowed my damn fucking nerves.
Ella.
The room was packed, fit to burst with bodies, mainly male bodies, all lurching around the sides, chatting, their wallets fat with cash. The band on stage played easy listening music, and if I didn't know better, I would have thought I was attending a charity ball or something, not a disgusting auction of teenage girls.
Women dazzled and dripped in diamonds, their ear lobes hung far too low, weighed under the heaviness of their jewels, the catering staff whizzed about like excited bumblebees, and my eyes searched the room for my only friend.
A sweaty hand pressed against the bottom
of my back, which was bare thanks to my dress, and I startled, turning to see Mr. Bartos, a familiar face, but not the one I wanted to see.
“Good evening, Ella.” He gushed, taking hold of both of my hands. “You look spectacular as usual.” He leaned in for a kiss, his lips soggy and fat face flushed red, and I turned my cheek towards him. “This is my wife, Loretta. Loretta, this is Mrs Chrobak.” He gestured to the striking woman beside him. Her legs were impossibly long, and she towered over her husband, dark hair curled into a 50's do, red dress pushing her breasts upwards, long red nails fiddled with a champagne glass. She looked bored and not the least bit interested in me.
Wanting to be far away from him as possible, I found my smile and asked, “Have you found your seats okay, sir? I believe Vladimir has you on the top table.” My voice was high pitched, light, and airy, everything opposite of how I felt. Inside. My stomach was in knots, churning, creaking almost.
Mr. Bartos smiled, his discolored teeth sickened me. “You are a treasure, Ella, thank you.”
“Ella!” Called a voice above the music.
Marnie! At last. I spun on my heels, teetering, my usual bare feet not used to being hoisted into the air by four inches.
Making my excuses, I hurried across the room, squeezing passed throngs of people, desperately trying to cling on to my sanity and hope the anxiety wouldn't take me hostage.
Marnie looked sensational, as usual. Her chocolate hair was pencil straight, her curves enhanced by the dress Jozef had bought for her, a skin-tight green gown with a mermaid skirt.
She pulled me into her embrace and spoke into my ear. “You okay, babe?”
“I am now.”
Marnie handed me an empty tray before loading it with glasses of champagne.
“Right, the two tables at the back there seem to be the quietest. New faces, I think, so they shouldn't cause you any problems.”
Marnie and I clashed at times, not that she was aware as I'd never voice if she upset me, but deep down, despite all that, I was so grateful to have her here. Perhaps that was selfish of me, grateful to have a sister in arms in this horrible world.