by Bella Jewel
I feel as though I’m standing in that spot for hours before a hand curls around the top of my arm. I flinch, not wanting him to touch me. I hear a hushing sound, and then I feel my body being pulled down. This is it; he’s going to rape me. I’ve got not escape. I can’t even fight. I’m bound. I let out a ragged plea, and squirm harder, not wanting to give any more of myself over to these people...these monsters.
I’m pulled onto a lap, and I feel one hand land on my leg while another presses against my back. The man I’m sitting on is large, that much I know. He’s got to be quite tall, and the parts of him I can feel are pure muscle. His legs are resting against mine, and they’re solid. His chest is against my shoulder, and I know there’s a great deal of strength there by the way his muscles jump and move when he does. The arms around me are strong and commanding. The way he’s holding onto me, it’s controlling. He’s got me in a position I can’t easily escape from, and he’s put me there effortlessly.
“Please,” I whimper, and in my current state of despair, I don’t really know what I’m pleading for.
He doesn’t answer me. He just holds me there, as if I’m some sort of child. His arms rise up and wrap around my waist, securing me, and I can feel his chest rising and falling deeply with each breath he takes. I close my eyes, trying to take myself away, trying to control the fear that has my body trembling in his arms. Think of something else, anything else. I try to muster up a memory, only there are none. I try to think of the ocean or the forest, but I don’t really remember clearly what they look like.
I only realize I’m sobbing when his hand comes up to my hair, and he strokes his fingers down the long, thick layers. I catch his scent when he moves, and he smells clean, like soap. I also get a hint of whiskey. I stop sobbing as he continues to glide his fingers down my hair. Who is this man? Why is he holding me like this? Why won’t he speak to me? Why won’t he let me see his face? I try to jerk free from his hold, but it’s no use. He’s got me in a vice-like grip, and he’s far too strong for me to break it.
“Who are you?” I whisper hoarsely.
He doesn’t answer; he just continues stroking his fingers down my hair. Is he trying to soothe me? Comfort me? Or is he just trying to mess with my head? My mind is swimming with thoughts, and no matter how long he sits, patting my hair, it’s not going to change the panic I’m feeling right now. But the more I squirm, the longer he holds me. I stop moving after ten minutes or so, and I clench my eyes shut, letting him continue, praying with every passing second that it’ll be over soon.
I bite my lip so hard blood fills my mouth for the second time today. The idea of having a stranger’s hands in my hair makes me feel ill, especially a stranger I can’t see. There’s a reason they won’t let me see him, and that makes me fear him more. My eyes are clenched shut, and my breathing is still deep and rapid. I’m trying to calm myself enough to have him believe he’s soothed me, but it’s not happening as well as I would have liked.
So he continues to stroke.
In the distance, I hear music playing, and I put all my energy into focusing on the sound. It’s elegant music, with a deep, soulful sound that only makes my heart ache more. I wish I could drift off right now, take myself to a happier place, only I don’t know if I’ve ever had a happier place. His hands suddenly stop moving, and I realize I’ve managed to calm myself enough to make him believe he’s settled me.
He lifts me off his lap, and places me on wobbly feet.
I stand like that for a long moment, listening, waiting. Then I hear his husky voice break through the silence as he rasps something into my ear in a different language.
“Încredere în întuneric, frumusețea.” Trust the darkness, Beauty.
I don’t know what he says to me, but the sound is so masculine, his voice so captivating and smooth, it has me standing transfixed until the door swings open and a guard walks in. I catch only a brief glimpse of long, dark hair swishing around broad shoulders before the man disappears into the darkness.
Who is he?
CHAPTER FIVE
NUMBER THIRTEEN
My mind feels foggy as we walk back towards the rooms. My eyes burn, and are taking long moments to adjust to the brighter light out here. I don’t understand what just happened, and no matter how many ways I look at it, it makes no sense to me. He held me as though I were a child. He stroked my hair, and then he let me go with some murmured words into my ear. There seems no point in his actions. Was he trying to soothe me? Have me trust him so he can do something different? Something worse?
The minute we reach the room, the guards open the door and shove me in, uncuffing me before slamming it behind me. I turn immediately and grip the door handle, shaking it. It’s locked, and my stomach twists. I am still trembling, and I take a moment to close my eyes and breathe, gathering myself before turning and facing the girls in the room.
They are all sitting on their beds, staring at me, their eyes weary. I walk over to what has clearly been left as my bed, and I slowly sit, still trying to process my thoughts. It’s Number Seven that speaks first, her voice low and soft. I realize it’s the first time she’s spoken. I lift my eyes, and stare into her chocolate-brown eyes.
“Are you hurt?”
It takes me a moment to answer the question, even though I’m fully aware of the answer.
“No.”
Number Three looks at us from her bed, and her lip trembles. She’s fragile; I saw that the moment I laid eyes on her. I can see the fear in her depths; she doesn’t know what’s going to happen, and it’s not a fact she can deal with easily. We’re all scared, but she’s gone far and beyond that. She’s petrified. I try to smile at her, but it comes out wobbly and broken. I have nothing to give her. I can’t give her hope, because I have as little of it left as everyone else.
“Was he...awful?” Number Twelve asks, lifting herself from the bed and tucking her dark-red hair behind her ears. She walks over and sits on the bed beside me.
“No,” I whisper, my voice crackly. “He just made me sit on his lap. He didn’t hurt me.”
“Did you see him?” Number Seven asks.
I shake my head. “No, I was blindfolded, and the room was dark.”
They’re all quiet as they take this in. Number Three begins to sob softly, and she rubs her hands over her thighs in a repetitive motion. “Why can’t I remember anything? Why are we here?”
Her questions are questions we’ve probably all asked ourselves, and she knows as well as I do that we don’t have the answers to them. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to rouse a memory, but nothing comes. I’m completely blank, and frustration swells in my chest. I force my mind away from the emptiness, and I look back at the three other girls in my group. With the biggest voice I can muster up, which is still barely a whisper, I say, “We’re all here, and we don’t know why, but we can stick together. We can help each other. We can be there for each other. We’ll find a way out, but if we crumble, we’ll have nothing left.”
They all nod slowly in agreement.
“There are cameras,” Number Seven whispers, lifting her eyes to the roof.
“I know,” I say, not looking at the cameras.
I stare around the room, and try to find something I can write on but there’s nothing. There aren’t any drawers, or a desk. It’s just beds, and a closet that I already know only holds clothes. The other girls follow my movements, understanding what I’m trying to do. They speak to me with their eyes, letting me know they understand. We can’t say anything out loud in here, but we can communicate. Perhaps in the night, when the room is dark, we could whisper.
I hear the creak of the door, and turn to see the guard stepping back into the room. He wheels in a cart, and unloads four trays off it, placing them on the tables beside our beds. He doesn’t look at us as he moves, but I know he’s on full alert. One movement from us, and he’d swing into action. He steps back towards the door when he’s done, and turns to us. “It’s late after
noon. Eat your supper and prepare yourselves for bed. Everything on that plate is to be eaten, the milk is to be fully consumed. If you don’t do as I ask, you’ll be punished.”
Then he steps out and slams the door.
We’re all starving, and the moment we smell the food fill the room, we all get to our feet and shuffle to our trays. I lift the silver lid to reveal a plate of food, and my stomach turns angrily with want. I inhale the rich scent of roast beef and potatoes, and my mouth fills with saliva at the thought of taking my first bite. I don’t remember when I last ate, but I do know I’m starving now, and this food is like luxury in this moment.
I sit on the bed, and I lift my plastic fork. They haven’t provided us with a knife, but that doesn’t shock me. I stab the fork into the sliced tender roast beef, and I pop a piece into my mouth. I groan with delight as I chew, taking in the flavors, enjoying the taste as they dance on my tongue. Next I stab a potato, and repeat the same process as I devour it. I eat everything on my plate, right down to the last pea, and then I use the bread roll on the side to dab up the last of the gravy.
I’m so full now, but remembering the guard’s words to eat and drink everything, I reach over and take the glass of milk. It’s warm, which surprises me. I breathe it in before pressing the glass to my lips, and swallowing the liquid in four big gulps. I wipe my face with the back of my hand, and turn to see the other girls have all finished their food and milk, too. I lift myself off the bed, and walk over to the closet, figuring they require us to get changed before bed. I pick out a plain white nightdress, and I walk into the bathroom to change into it, and brush my teeth.
I feel suddenly warm as I’m walking back out, like exhaustion has finally taken over. I’m swaying on my feet. I yawn, and my skin feels tingly as I plod along towards my bed. I feel heavy, and yet strangely light. I stare at the other girls, and see Number Seven is already asleep. She didn’t even get changed. Number Three is in the bathroom, changing. Number Twelve is sitting on her bed, her eyes flickering open and shut as she tries to stay awake. I guess we all needed some food and rest.
I crawl onto my bed, grateful it’s not a hard concrete floor. The mattress is too soft, and the pillow too hard, but I’m so exhausted I don’t care to notice. I pull the blanket up over my body, and my eyes flicker shut. I try to force them back open so I can reach across and turn the lamp off, but I can’t seem to muster up the strength to lift my lids, let alone my hands. My entire body feels like it’s sinking into the mattress, and my head begins to swim.
That’s the last thing I recall.
~*~*~*~
NUMBER THIRTEEN
“Get up!”
The voice comes into the room, loud and booming. I let my eyelids flutter open, and I see it’s still mostly dark out. The sun is only just starting to shed its light on the horizon. I’m fuzzy for a moment, trying to remember where I am. It’s hazy, but after a moment, clarity forms, and I recall the situation I’ve been put in. I’m being kept slave to a master I don’t see. I try to recall the last moments before I fell asleep last night, but they appear muddled.
“I said, now!” the guard barks, flicking on the light.
I squint, pressing my hand over my eyes, trying to adjust. I hear heavy footsteps, and someone else squeak. I blink rapidly, moving my hand, and I see the guard is holding Number Three up. She’s sobbing again, and her legs are shaking. I force my body up, and I throw my legs out of the bed. I’m still quite dazed, and it takes me a long moment to gather myself. The guard drags Number Three into the bathroom, and I hear her pleas as he forces her to shower. I also hear the loud slap when she doesn’t do as he says.
I turn my eyes to Number Twelve and Number Seven, and they’re both staring at the bathroom, their faces a mask of pure horror. They know they’re coming up soon, and they know there’s nothing they can do about it. I swallow the lump forming in my throat, and I walk over to the girls, placing my hand on Number Twelve’s arm. She jumps, and turns around quickly, her eyes frantic. “It’s okay,” I say, my voice crackly from sleep. “It’s going to be okay.”
“We should get dressed,” Number Seven says, without moving her eyes from the door. “We don’t want to make him angry.”
I nod, and we all quickly dress into a basic set of shorts and a top. Then we all stand by our beds, waiting, unsure what we’re supposed to do.
The guard comes out a moment later, still clutching Number Three who has stopped crying, but her face is scrunched in fear. He shoves her towards the door, and leads her out. A moment later he shoves a cart through, containing our breakfast. He barks, “Eat that, and put the trays back. Then wait here for my command.” Then he leaves with Number Three.
None of us feel like eating.
My stomach is turning with fear for Number Three. What if the master isn’t as kind to her? What if he hurts her? What if she doesn’t please him? Will she get taken away like Number Six? Will they hurt her? Or worse, kill her? The questions swimming around in my mind allow me no breaks, and the coiling in my stomach intensifies. I stare at the trays, knowing if we don’t eat breakfast, we’ll be punished. I also don’t know when we’ll be fed again, and I don’t want to risk being left hungry.
“We should eat,” Number Seven says. “I know we don’t want to, but we should.”
Her voice is quiet and timid, but she’s right. We should eat. We each take a tray, and sit it beside our beds again. This time I’m not so excited about the food in front of me. I lift the silver lid to reveal a bowl of muesli, with fruit on the side, and a glass of orange juice. I lift the glass, sipping the juice tentatively, slowly easing it into my stomach. When it seems to settle there well enough, I take a mouthful of muesli, and take a grape from the bowl of fruit.
It takes me twenty minutes to eat my breakfast, but I manage to get it down. When I’m finished, I place my plate onto the cart, and stand beside my bed again. The other girls follow my actions, until we’re all standing silently, wondering if Number Three is ok. Is this how they felt yesterday when I was taken? Were they filled with this much fear? Did they wonder if I would ever come back? The very idea has desperation flooding my veins once more.
I need to get away from here.
“Line up outside.”
The guard’s voice comes into the room before he does, and we all obey, heading towards the door and stepping out to line up outside it. He stands in front of us, looking at us as though we disgust him. I don’t understand why he’s so mean, yet Master William is so quiet. Or maybe he’s not quiet; maybe he’s playing a game with us, allowing us to believe we’re safe for a little while before he shows us his true self.
I cast my eyes to the floor, and I don’t move them as the guard begins to speak.
“Number Three will be with the master this morning; the rest of you will work in the garden with group three. You will break only for lunch, and then you will work through the afternoon before helping group one in the kitchen. Do as you are told, and there will be no punishments.”
We all nod.
He turns, and we follow him down the halls, through the large, beautiful home. He takes us down to the bottom floor, and leads us outside. I can’t help but inhale the second we step into the fresh, crisp air. The smell of flowers and pine fill my nose, and I just take that moment to enjoy it. I know there won’t be many moments to enjoy things here, but I plan to take every, single one that’s offered to me.
We walk across the soft, green grass and stop at a huge barn with a set of double doors. The guard pulls out a key, and unlocks it, swinging the doors open. They go with a creak, and a moment later a large light is flicked on. The massive space comes into view, and it’s filled with a range of gardening tools, including a large machine to keep the lawn trimmed. The guard steps in, and then turns to us.
“Everything you need is in this barn. The master requires the yard to be cut, the trees to be clipped, the shrubs to be shaped, and the flowers to be watered. You divide that up between yourselves, bu
t ensure that it’s all done. If anyone is seen to be letting others take the work, they will then be left to do it on their own.”
We nod. Again.
“There is full surveillance in this area, so don’t bother trying to escape. Guards will be nearby even when you think they’re not there. Someone is always there. Do your duties swiftly, and without problems, and everything will run smoothly. Group three will be here momentarily.” He turns to walk away, but stops and says, “And remember, if one of you screws up, the rest will be punished alongside that person. You’re here to learn, girls, remember that.”
Then he turns and walks out, leaving us alone. We all turn and stare at each other, and I see that the other girls aren’t going to take charge here. They’re scared of making a mistake that will cause all of us to be punished. With a sigh, I walk further into the barn, checking out what we have to work with. I’ve no idea how to work the lawnmower, so I turn to the girls and ask, “Do any of you know how to operate this?”
They stare blankly at me. Of course they don’t know. Even if they did they wouldn’t remember.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I walk over and read the panel of instructions on the side. It seems easy enough to use, and I’m sure I can manage to work it. I turn to the girls again, and allocate them each a job. Number Seven gets to trim the trees. Number Twelve will water the flowers and make sure there are no weeds. When the other group gets here, they can work on the rest of the trimming and the cleaning of the pool areas.
We all get to work, moving quickly and efficiently. None of us wish to be seen as slacking off. The silence we work in is almost deafening, and it makes my heart ache that much more. While I work, I peer at the large fences surrounding the lot. I’m not entirely sure if there’s a way over them, but from the abundance of cameras, I don’t think we’d ever get the chance to get close. My hearts sinks, I turn my eyes back to the grass. There has to be a way out.