by Jenny Lynn
What was the lie, and what was the truth? Hadn’t Ella been a challenge to me? Didn’t I take and keep her against her will once? Hadn’t she won over the darkness in me? Maybe that was the answer - to embrace the darkness tonight, let them believe that I’m one of them, and buy her to save her.
The man laughed, throwing his head back and clapping me on the shoulder, a piece of his hair falling out of place against his forehead. He smoothed it back, grinning like a kid on Christmas. “Yes. Yes. I understand exactly what you mean. When you’re used to getting everything you want, when no one ever tells you no, the boredom can drive you insane.” He tossed back the rest of his drink and placed the glass on the ledge. “Local, or out of town?”
I hesitated a moment, looking from him back inside. Bring the women out, show me Ella, so I can stop talking to this asshole. “Local.”
“I flew in this morning, my jet is on standby once we’re all wrapped up here.” Who was he trying to impress? This fucker loved the sound of his own voice... “Hopefully I won’t be leaving alone. Ever since my last toy didn’t work out, I’ve been so bored.”
Don’t react. Stay calm Beckett.
“Maybe you need to be more careful with your things.” I told him, taking a sip of champagne. “Even the most dangerous animals have self control to balance out their urges. The ones that don’t, the rabid ones, they don’t last long.”
“You’re right - you are so right. The chase is thrilling, but sooner or later your prey gives up the fight and it’s all over. Hopefully later. This is an expensive hobby, you’ll learn that.”
“Any words of wisdom?” I placed my empty glass down beside his, the monster in me wanting to smash the glass and drive the long sharp stem into his neck so that I could watch him drown in his own blood. We weren’t the same, I wasn’t like him. The fact that he seemed to think we were equals, that we had anything in common, was upsetting me more than I thought possible.
“Pace yourself,” he offered. “Take a look inside; most of those men are just your average, run of the mill perverts. Misogynists. Bored, divorced, bitter, angry. You and I are more evolved than that, aren’t we? I can see it in your eyes, in the way you walked into the room and how you examined everything and everyone around you. Sizing things up, studying. No,” he sighed. “What we want runs much deeper than that. Embrace the hungry parts of yourself, feed them, and then you can control it.” He pulled a package of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, pulled one out, tapped it against the ledge and lit it. His every movement was calm, elegant even. His fingers were long, holding the cigarette and lifting it to his mouth, his angular jaw catching the light. He looked more like a model than a monster, but then again, my face hid inner demons too. You really can’t judge a book by its cover.
“Has it helped you - are you satisfied?” I asked him.
He exhaled a thin trail of blue-grey smoke from between his lips, which the wind caught then carried away. “Not yet, but once I get what I came here for - I will be.”
From inside I heard the sound of clapping, a short man with wire frame glasses stepped into the centre of the room demanding everyone’s attention. People stopped their conversations and crowded around him, the apparent ringleader in this illicit circus. The man beside me and I exchanged glances then he smiled again, a look of pure excitement on his face as he tossed his lit cigarette off the balcony, and together we went inside. Whatever happened next was about to take place in there.
17
Ella
Our emotions are delicate, like a flower garden. If they don’t get the care they need, the blooms will eventually shrivel and die. The fight in me wasn't completely gone, but it was without a doubt wilted. I was so far removed from everything and everyone who brought light into my life. Doubt was slowly creeping into the cracks of my resolve to escape, to save the others, and to bring those responsible to justice. It's hard to keep stoking the fires of your anger when you're exhausted and underfed.
When I was told to sit in a chair, I did without protest. My throat was tight with thirst. As soon as each captive girl before me obediently sat to have her hair and makeup done, they were rewarded with a bottle of water and a limp sandwich. I didn't know what was between those two slices of bread, and I didn't care - I was starving.
The woman tasked with fixing us up, who I considered a traitor to her own sex for working with them, pinched my chin between her bony fingers as she turned my head this way and that, scrutinizing me. Her hands reeked of stale cigarette smoke.
"Hmm… Pretty features. Eyes look a bit dark around the edges, but I can work with this."
"What a relief," I mocked before I could stop myself.
I couldn't help it. She was talking about me as if I couldn't hear her - like I was an object instead of a person. That probably made things easier on her, but I didn't want this to be easy on her. I wanted to remind her of my humanity.
She stared back at me, mildly surprised. I was waiting for her to slap me with those brittle tree branch fingers, but she didn't. She let go of my face, picked up a tube of concealer, and got to work.
"I read your articles, you know," she told me as she dotted makeup onto my blotchy skin. "I thought you had a way with words, clearly you still do. A sharp wit. You’re fearless. I worried about you, that you would eventually end up in some sort of trouble. It brings me no joy that I was right, Ella."
"I was just doing my job," I said. "Some people actually care about making the world a better place. I did that by being a crime reporter, other people do it in different ways. Tell me - how do you sleep at night, doing what you do?"
"Not in a cage, my dear," she sighed. "We need to learn to play the hand we're dealt in order to survive. If you're smart, you'll get through this. If you think things can't get worse, you're wrong."
"I'm not scared to die," I said.
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew they didn't sound convincing. She glanced into my eyes for a moment, then continued with her work of polishing up stolen women who were about to be sold. I suddenly realized I was the last one, which meant my fate was waiting for me outside those doors.
Fear finally found me, sunk its teeth in deep to the bone, and I lost the remaining shreds of my dignity. "Help me," I whispered to her, tears threatening to spill down my face, her canvas.
She shook her head, then reached for a tall glass of champagne on the table nearby. All of the other girls were already sipping theirs. As the older woman handed it to me, I shook my head in protest; I needed to stay alert.
"Trust me," she said softly, almost maternally. "It will make what happens next easier."
Reluctantly I accepted it, and while she added a few loose curls to my hair, I drank it down quickly. The alcohol hit my empty stomach like a ton of bricks, my head feeling blissfully fuzzy. I relaxed in the chair as she finished primping me, my skin starting to get warm and tingling.
My sister took me to a water park once, in happier times. There was a winding, man-made river that you could float down on inflatable tubes. I remembered lying on one, the sun warming my skin, a gentle current slowly carrying me away. That was how I felt right now, drifting and at peace, recalling fond memories of loved ones.
"How long have you been doing this?" I asked the woman dreamily.
"Too long," she said. She was done with me now, putting away her supplies.
"Did you ever meet a girl named Dana James? This would have been years ago…" I felt both dizzy and alert at the same time, calm and on edge. My body was at war with itself. "Hey, what was in that drink? I feel… strange."
"Dana… James?" The woman repeated softly.
"She was my sister, they took her… maybe she ended up someplace like this. Maybe someone like you did her hair and makeup, and then someone bought her. Probably not, but I figured I'd ask…"
There was a knock at the door, heavy and brutal like thunder. We all jumped. It opened and a man stood in the entrance, gesturing for us to follow him out. I struggled to l
ock eyes with the woman, my vision was blurry, and was shocked to realize her grey eyes had started to well up.
"I'm sorry, Ella. I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve this. To think that-"
When I finally stood up, I needed to grip a dresser for balance. I felt like I was walking underwater. The woman said more words but I didn't hear them. The sound of blood coursing through my body made a whooshing noise, dulling everything else.
A quick jab in my side brought my surroundings into focus and I joined the other girls spilling out of the room, drugged and obedient. It was the end of the road for us, but I didn't care anymore. Strange men, smiling, snickering, crowding closer. The scene in the next room swirled together like a kaleidoscope. Sweet, chemical induced oblivion wrapped itself around me like a heavy blanket. One of the guards guided us into a line against the wall.
"Gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for. Let's begin, shall we?"
One of the girls was pulled forward into the centre of the room, and the circling wolves immediately descended on her; their eager eyes and wet teeth. She was so frail, her eyes wide and her pupils dilated. When a few sinewy hands reached out, stroking and cupping her as if testing fruit for ripeness - she did nothing. Oblivion had found her too, a small mercy.
"The bidding will start at twenty-five thousand," the short man said. A man who was at least twice her age shot up his hand. "We have twenty-five, do we have fifty? Fifty thousand?"
Another hand, another bidder. Mister twenty-five shot him a glare, buzzards competing for their wounded prize.
"Fifty thousand, do I have seventy-five?" The first buzzard lifted his hand without hesitation, looking around the room with determination. He came here specifically to claim this one, and he was willing to pay.
"Seventy-five, do I have one hundred thousand? One hundred thousand for this petite beauty? I can inform you that she has formal dance training, a nice form of entertainment."
The first bidder watched his competition closely, his hand at the ready. No one tried to steal his prize.
"Sold! You may claim your property, sir. Congratulations. Payment is due immediately in the next room."
His tongue flicked out a moment to lick his lips as he stepped into the centre of the room, then he reached forward to pull her towards him. She hesitated, which caused a few men to chuckle. Embarrassed, he reached forward and slapped her face. She gasped and touched her cheek.
“You’re mine now. Act like it.”
He took her by the arm and dragged her, whimpering, into the next room and out of sight. No one watched after them, all eyes were on short man once again.
“Shall we move on to-”
I laughed. It started off soft, involuntary, but then it grew into one of those loud demented laughs that tend to erupt when you know it’s innapropriate. It was the absolute worst thing I could have done under the circumstances, a part of me knew that. But the other part of me, wounded and losing her grip on sanity, broke free like water behind a dam.
“Silence.” Short man snapped at me.
“Sorry,” I wiped away a tear, trying to stop myself. “It’s just all so pathetic. Grown men who can’t find or attract a woman, so you have to buy one? Real men don’t have to rape. You think you’re big and powerful? You’re all just losers with more money than decency.”
They glared at me, I glared at them right back. Worth it.
“Well then, thank you kindly for volunteering. Gentleman, as you can see, this one is a bit spirited. Perfect for the collector who likes a challenge. Shall we start the bidding this time at fifty thousand?”
“One hundred thousand,” a man stepped forward confidently, fists clenched at his side.
I turned my head towards him, determined to face whatever monster would dare try to buy me. I hated him, until I saw the eyes behind the mask. Familiar eyes. The outline of his strong body, the way he moved… it couldn’t be, could it?
Beckett.
“One hundred and fifty thousand,” another man, tall in an elegant suit, stepped forward as well. They exchanged glances.
“Two hundred thousand,” Beckett said. “I assure you, I have the means and the intention to go as high as needed. This one appeals to me.”
If anyone else said it, my skin would crawl with revulsion. Not him. Beckett was here, and he was going to take me away from this horrible place. A few tears escaped and rolled down my cheeks. To anyone looking at me, they were tears of fear, tears of desperation. They were actually tears of relief. I wanted to walk towards Beckett, but I stopped myself. No one could know.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand. And unfortunately my new friend, this one also appeals to me.”
The way the other man looked at me sent a chill down my spine. Something about him seemed off; sinister, yet polished. As if he was playing the part of a respectable man, but that veil would strip away the moment he had what he wanted. Reporting on crime for years, you develop a talent for reading people. All of my instincts told me this man was dangerous, and that for some reason, he was intensely focused on me.
“Three hundred thousand,” Beckett said with determined ease.
He would keep going, I had no doubt. He would buy my freedom, no matter what it took. The short man was watching the competition unfold with a pleased look on his face, the price on me climbing steadily. He didn’t have to say or do anything - the unfolding rivalry was doing all of the work for him.
“Three hundred and fifty thousand,” the other man said, examining his nails and taunting Beckett with his aloof attitude.
The cracks in Beckett's cool exterior were starting to show, and this asshole was enjoying his little game, determined to shatter his opponent by any means necessary. But I knew Beckett well, and the monster inside him was coiling tight, whispering promises of violence. The question was, which of the two men had a stronger monster inside of him?
“Enough,” Beckett said. “I’m not here to play games with you, I’m here to take what I want. Five hundred thousand - do you need me to go higher? Because I will, with ease.”
The other man’s mouth twisted into a ragged smile, distorting his otherwise attractive face, as he sized up his competitor to determine if he was serious. He looked at me, then at the short man who was waiting expectantly and almost giddy with excitement. I bet he was paid a commission based on sales. Disgusting. A calm look spread across the face of the man who challenged Beckett for me, and he lifted his hands.
“I won’t bid higher,” he said in a slow measured tone. “I can already tell that would be pointless.”
I wavered on my heels, quickly regaining my balance, wanting to rush into Beckett’s arms. No Ella, my brain shouted through the fog. They can’t know. Don’t screw up now, you’re so close. Get out, then call the police, help the others.
“Sold,” the short man said cheerily. “Well, that was exciting. Claim your property, sir. Payment is due immediately in the next room.”
“Gladly,” Beckett replied from behind his thin masquerade mask as he stepped forward.
My heart was racing as he looked me over, then walked in a slow circle around me. So close I could feel his warm breath on my exposed skin. I was confused, then I clued in. He was playing the part of a man who just bought himself a sex slave. I needed to play my part too; for the bold and angry girl they knew to suddenly become compliant would raise suspicion.
When Beckett stopped in front of me and took me by the wrist, I shot my hand forward and slapped his cheek - hard enough for the sound to bounce off the walls. There were a few gasps and murmurs, but the tall man chuckled in amusement, watching me with delight.
I watched as Beckett raised an eyebrow at me, leaning in close. “You’ll pay for that,” he whispered to me, loud enough for those nearby to hear.
My stomach was fluttering and I suppressed a smile, thinking of all the pleasurable ways Beckett had for punishing me, and how much I wanted to be with him right now.
He gripped my wrist again and pulled me fr
om the centre of the room, into an adjoining room where payment was to be processed. “Sit,” he commanded, pushing me towards a soft couch in the corner. I did, sinking into the crushed velvet fabric, while he sat at a desk with a grey haired man with a laptop. They started talking, clicking, moving money from one place through various channels to other places. I should have listened closer, but the reporter in me wasn’t in the room. Only the scared girl who needed to be rescued from this living nightmare.
I must have become distracted by my own thoughts, because the next thing I knew, I was being pulled to my feet.
“I said, it’s time to go,” he said with a clipped tone. Looking into Beckett’s eyes, they softened, fully realizing the state I was in. “Come now, you belong to me,” he added, but his voice was softer now.
I rose to my feet and let him guide me, the drugs still clouding my mind and body, and we headed for the elevators. Security nodded and stepped aside as we waited. In a few short moments, this would all be over.
When the doors opened, I was so relieved I could cry. We stepped inside, Beckett’s hand stroking my lower back gently - then without warning, a hand stopped the doors from closing. We both looked towards the doors to see the tall man again, he was flanked by security. Before I knew what was happening, he reached inside and yanked me away from Beckett. I screamed, trying to get away from him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Beckett shouted. “She’s mine, I bought her.”
“Sorry, friend,” the tall man sighed. “Genuinely, I am. I told you I wouldn’t bid higher, and I meant it. But I’m what you would call a preferred customer to the men who run things here, I do a lot of business with them, while you… well this is only your first time. I pulled a few strings. I told you, this one appeals to me. However you were a worthy adversary.”