by Bella Jewel
“I want to go back to him,” I say blandly.
“May I ask why?”
“Because he’s kind, and he took care of us when we had nothing else.”
“One last question for the night, and I need you to answer it honestly for me, Emelyn. Did you choose to be with William?”
I lift my eyes and stare into his, not wavering. “Yes.”
~*~*~*~
WILLIAM
“We’ve got your name, William,” the cop says, pacing the room.
I don’t speak.
“We know those girls were sold as slaves and you paid very good money to get them back. If you tell us all you know, we can go easy on you.”
I grunt. “If you had proof, you wouldn’t need me to tell you anything. And if you think I’m stupid enough to fall for the old ‘we’ll go easily on you’ trick, then you really don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
He slams his hand down onto the table. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to get me to admit to purchasing the girls. They might have my name, but they have no proof. If they had it, they wouldn’t be asking me questions. If they had it, I’d be in jail right now, and wouldn’t be getting questioned.
“Now William,” he grinds out, “we can play this the hard way, or the easy way. You either tell me how you got them, or I’ll find out another way.”
“Go right ahead.”
I know I left no trails behind; I put a lot of time and money into purchasing the girls. I won’t be caught for it. I made sure of that.
“I’ve questioned some of the girls already. They remember their lives before you.”
“And?” I say, shrugging.
“And they’re likely to tell me what I need to know. It won’t take much, just a few jabs at their memories to make them realize what a monster you really are.”
I don’t answer him. I’ve done everything I can for the girls. I’ve taught them all I have to teach. I’ve given them the best of me. If they betray me now, then I’ve failed.
If I’ve failed, I deserve this.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
NUMBER THIRTEEN
“Goddammit!” I hear a cop growl in the next room.
He thinks I’m asleep, but I’m not. There’s no way I can sleep. I peek my eyes open and see he’s pacing the room outside, his fists clenched. I don’t move; I just stare. I can see he’s angry. He’s got a crumpled piece of paper in his fist, and every now and then he waves it around with a growl.
“What’s going on?” someone else asks.
“He’s covered his ass. I can’t find anything or any proof that he purchased those girls. As far as I know, they got away, and chose to go to him. I can’t prove anything. They’re all claiming they were with him by choice and not by force. Without them as witnesses, I have an empty case.”
My heart hammers. The girls didn’t speak. Oh, thank God.
The other man sighs. “They’ll break. Give them time to remember. There’s a few that can’t.”
“They’re being transported tomorrow morning, first thing. We’ve got a safe house for them all until we can contact any remaining family members, or at least get them on their feet again. I’m bringing in a psychologist.”
“Do you think they will break?”
“I don’t know,” the cop says. “I just don’t know.”
“What do you think he’s got them for? It makes no sense. They’re all in great condition; they haven’t been hurt. William is a well-known business man. He doesn’t seem like the type to hurt anyone.”
There’s a long silence.
“I think,” the cop begins, before sighing. “I think he saved them.”
Saved us?
Tears well in my eyes, and I think about everything we’ve been through with William. All his lessons. All his rules. At first, I thought those were a sick kind of control, but now I know about our history, I understand something a whole lot better. William was trying to build us back up. He was trying to teach us to be good people, and have structure in our lives before letting us fly on our own.
He saved us.
My heart cracks in half.
~*~*~*~
NUMBER THIRTEEN
“This letter was requested to be given to you,” the officer says early the next morning. “We’ve approved it.”
I take the small, square letter from his palm and I press it to my chest. The officer stares down at me, like he wants to ask me something but he knows he can’t.
“We’ve got another round of questions before you’re transported to your safe house with the other girls.”
“Are we to stay in that house?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “We will hold you there until the case is closed or solved. We need you for questioning, and by law you are required to attend that. Once we’re finished, there isn’t much more we can do. Without the evidence we need, we can’t force you to stay. You’re all over twenty-one, therefore you’re adults. We’ve informed any significant people in your lives that you’re found and well, and some of them want to see you.”
He stops and stares at me for a moment, before continuing.
“We can’t make you see them; as I said, you’re all old enough to make your own choices. We do, however, recommend that you stay in the safe house for a while after the investigation closes, let us give you the support you need.”
I stare at him. It’s such a long time to be away from William, and my heart aches at the thought. I nod at him, letting him know I’ve understood. He takes my arm without another word, and leads me down the halls into a massive room. I see all the other girls, and my heart swells. I’ve missed them. Number Twelve rushes over right away, throwing her arms around me. I wrap her in my embrace.
“Are you okay?” I whisper into her ear.
“I’m okay,” she answers, pulling back.
“Girls,” the officer says. “We’ll be in momentarily to ask further questions before you’re moved to a safe house. Emelyn has a note to share with you. Some food will be brought in for you in a few moments.”
With that he leaves the room and closes the door, leaving us to it. I stare at the girls I’ve become so familiar with over the past month, and I decide it’s time we all got to know each other a little better. I take a seat and sit down on it, staring at them all.
“My name is Emelyn,” I say in a small, meek voice. “I have a letter here to share, and I don’t know what it says, but I already know it’s from William. Before we start, I want to know about you all. So please, tell me. You girls are all I’ve had, and it’s been hard, but I want to keep this...I need for us to at least try.”
“My name is Jaybelle,” Number Twelve says, and then gives a weak laugh. “They told me I was a sex slave after my parents died, leaving me an orphan. I ended up on the streets. I guess I got taken.”
I reach out, and take her hand. “That’s a very beautiful name.”
“I’m Layla,” Number One says, her voice tired and worn. “I was a prostitute when William got hold of me. I was at the end of my rope. I was broke and poor. I had nothing left.”
“I’m Jessica,” Number Two says. “I was also a prostitute.”
She leaves it at that, and I don’t push her. They will give me as much or as little as they feel they need to.
“I’m Ryleigh,” Number Four says, and I feel my heart pang that there’s no Number Three to give her story. “I was a sex slave too. I got sold when I was eighteen. I’m very aware of my life before William, and I don’t want it back.”
“I’m Mackenzie,” Number Five says. “I too, am a slave, but not a sex slave. I was worked to the bone by a horrible and cruel master.”
I give her a soft smile, and she returns it.
“I’m Peta,” Number Six says. “I was on the streets, starving. He found me and saved me.”
My heart aches for William as I realize more and more what he did for us all.
“I’m Reign.” Number Seven smiles, looking over at me. “I
was a sex slave. I don’t remember a lot of it, and I’m glad. My life before that was hard. I was told I was continually raped by my father until he passed away, leaving me with nothing.”
My heart breaks for her, and I want so badly to reach over and hold onto her. Poor thing.
“I’m Ellie,” Number Eight whispers. “I was a slave too.”
She’s reserved; she’s allowed to be. We all are.
“I’m Katie,” Number Nine says. “I was paired up with Ellie. We came from the same place.”
I’m glad she has someone she is familiar with.
“I’m Yasmin,” Number Ten says. “My family was killed in a car crash. I was walking one night and I got taken. I was sold to a master who used me, and sold me to another master. I was a sex slave for five years. That’s when William saved me.”
I swallow my tears back, and nod at her. She smiles weakly at me.
“I’m Genevieve,” Number Eleven grunts. “I was a whore. He saved me, I guess.”
She’s still raw towards William, but clearly she respects him enough to know that he did the best thing for her. I stare at the group of girls who have become everything to me, and I unfold the letter, staring down at the beautiful script. Tears well in my eyes, but I manage to choke out the words.
Girls,
You probably have a lot of questions, and questions are perfectly healthy. There are so many reasons I took you, but really, it comes down to me. I’m not a man who gives his heart easily, and for so long I’ve lived in darkness. That was, until I found you all. You changed something in me. While teaching you, I taught myself. I never thought that was something I would achieve in my life.
See, when I was hurt as a young man, I chose not to become a monster, but instead to teach lessons. Then I met you girls, and I knew I had to teach you, to show you that with the right actions, life could be beautiful. You made my life beautiful.
I know you wonder why I picked thirteen. The reason is, it was a meaningful number to me. It also meant I was saving more than one. It wasn’t an easy task; I had to dig myself into a bad place to be able to save you. I decided right from the start that I would teach you about life. I would build you back up, and I would be that someone you’d never had.
I hope I became that someone for you.
I know sometimes my punishments made no sense, and I know you deserve to know the reasoning behind that. It’s simple, and it was always about a lesson. When I first met you, you were terrified. You didn’t know who you were. You would have run at the first chance you got, and there needed to be something to hold you back. You needed to feel that fear; it was the only way I could get past the walls you had all built so high, and get to the core. I needed your trust, but to earn that, I needed you to see beyond the haze. The minute you all feared me, you left yourselves fragile. I worked with that, and slowly worked to show you that good things were rewarded, and if you behaved well, you could have a happy life here, with me.
You all learned so well, and you made me proud every day that you grew.
I cannot begin to tell you the lessons I’ve been taught from all of you. I’ve learned about compassion, respect, friendship, and love. I need you to know that; I need you to understand that. I want you to remember me for what I am. I want you to remember the lesson I taught you. I want you to remember there’s always a place in my heart for you.
Now it’s time for you to fly free.
You will forever remain a part of my soul, my thirteen sweet girls.
William.
I lift my hazy eyes and see the girls all hanging their heads, some of them sobbing.
He didn’t just change my life. He changed theirs, too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
NUMBER THIRTEEN
Week One
“No, please!” Jaybelle screams, bolting upright in bed.
I scurry from my bed and I climb into hers, wrapping my arms around her. She’s been dreaming for the past two nights, and it’s been upsetting her. I don’t blame her; it’s been upsetting me, too. Slowly I’m remembering my life after my sister died, and before William got me.
I was a slave; not a sex slave, but a slave all the same. I was worked from morning until night by a cruel, relentless man who punished me far worse than William could have ever done. My pain never stopped. If I was sick, I worked. If I was sad, I worked. If I was broken, I worked. My master was a cruel man, and the more I remember my time with him, the more my heart aches for William
“It’s okay,” I soothe Jaybelle. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I want them to stop,” she hiccups. “They hurt, Emelyn.”
“I know honey,” I whisper. “I know.”
Keeping the house together hasn’t been easy. The girls are all dealing with a deep, heart-wrenching pain that is permanently lodged into their souls. There have been fights, there have been moments of agonizing silence, and there have been moments filled with breakdowns and crying sessions that never seem to end. We’re all trying to find our way, but without him, there seems to be no way.
We’re just empty.
~*~*~*~
NUMBER THIRTEEN
“Don’t fuck with me, Reign,” Genevieve screams, slamming her coffee mug down.
“Me, fuck with you?” Reign bellows back. “You think you own this house, but you don’t.”
“If you don’t like it here, get lost. You know that no one is holding you back.”
“If that’s the case, you leave!” Reign yells, throwing her hands in the air.
“Girls,” I say, my voice broken. “Please stop.”
“Don’t get your bossy pants on now, Missy Prissy,” Genève snarls at me.
“God,” I yell, kicking a stool. “Can you just stop? You’re making us all miserable.”
“Ladies, come on,” Jaybelle says. “Let’s just stop this. Let’s all go to the pool and get out of this space.”
The girls all fall quiet, and we turn and stare outside at the pool.
“It’s a good idea,” I dare to say.
“I think so, too,” Ellie pipes up.
“Whatever,” Genevieve grunts.
We all stand and rush off to our rooms. We get changed and head out to the pool. We need fresh air; we need space. We’ve been fighting so much because we’re all so confused. We don’t know what to do, or where to go, and it’s scary. We feel like we have nothing left at the end of this tunnel. We don’t even know if William wants us back, or if we want to go back to him.
I want to go back to him. Everything inside me aches to be with him.
“Girls.”
We’re all lazing by the pool when Officer Greg walks in. He’s been visiting us daily, and he’s been kind enough to us, even though he’s trying to take away the one thing we love. He stops beside my lounge, and looks down at me, before letting his eyes fall on the other girls.
“We need to ask some more questions.”
I sigh. So do the other girls.
“I know you don’t like it,” he says, his voice stern. “But it’s protocol.”
“Get on with it, then,” Genevieve growls.
He gives her a warning look before dragging a seat out, and pulling out a piece of paper.
“I need to ask you about your time in the house.”
“You’ve already asked us,” I say, crossing my arms.
“Yes, but I only asked the very basics. Now I need more.”
“Fine.”
“Firstly, I need to know if you know what happened to the girl who jumped off the roof?”
My heart clenches, and I swallow my bile down.
“She killed herself,” I grind out.
“Why?” he questions.
“Because she was depressed,” Jaybelle snaps. “She had a hard life before William. She found it hard to cope.”
He raises his brows and studies us. “And you think that’s all it was? It wasn’t something he did?”
“Of course not,” I say, my tone defensive. “He woul
d have never let her hurt herself.”
“Okay,” he says, writing something down. “Now, after a search of the house, we saw very basic things in the rooms. If you were there willingly, why didn’t you have normal clothes, and other such items?”
He’s trying to confuse us, to get us to admit something so he can get William. Well, I won’t let him. He has no idea what William is like, or why he did what he did.
“We only needed basic things. He was looking after a lot of us,” I say.
“And he couldn’t have given you nicer clothes?”
“Could you afford clothes for that many girls?”
He narrows his eyes, but chooses to change the subject. “Very well. What about the markings on your hands?”
I have nothing for that. I feel my heart beginning to pound as I struggle for an answer. It’s Genevieve who speaks, saving me before I breakdown.
“We did those.”
The officer turns to her. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me,” she snaps. “We did them. Before William, we were no more than numbers. It became somewhat of a meaningful thing to us. We decided to tattoo it on ourselves so we never forgot the lives we left behind.”
The officer sighs, and rubs his forehead. “You girls aren’t going to give me anything on him, are you?”
“There’s nothing to give. He was good to us,” I say.
He stares around the group before standing. “You’re all booked to speak to my psychologist; which is part of protocol. Emelyn, if you’re free, you can come with me now.”
I frown, but I know there’s no way to get out of it. I have to go. I stand, sighing. “Let’s get this over with.”
~*~*~*~
NUMBER THIRTEEN
“Tell me about Lanthie,” Mary, the psychologist asks.
I stare at her. She’s older, with greying hair and big brown eyes. She’s lovely, and patient, and willing to hear everything we have to say.
“She was gorgeous, sweet, funny, and adorable,” I whisper, my voice too broken to show itself.