Number Thirteen

by Jewel, Bella

  Is she going to jump? My knees wobble and I try to open my mouth to call her down, to encourage her away, but all that comes out is a desperate squeak. My eyes are hazing over, and I can hear a loud ringing in my ears. Tears form in my eyes, and I hear Number Twelve begin to coax Number Three down.

  “We’re in this together,” she cries. “You are stronger than this!”

  “I need to be free,” she yells. “Like an angel, I need to let go. You have to let me go.”

  She stares down at us, her expression empty. It’s like there’s nothing left, like whoever was inside has exited, and all that is remaining is an empty shell. She turns, and relief floods me as her back faces us. She’s going to walk away; she’s going to let us help her. Oh, thank God.

  Then she stretches her arms out like an airplane and she just lets her body fall backwards. As if in slow motion, she soars down towards the ground. I hear myself scream, but I can’t force my legs to run forward. My head spins, and flashes of memories soar through my mind as I finally get myself to move.

  “Lanthie!” I scream.

  I don’t even know why.

  I hear the loud crack as Number Three hits the concrete below. I can hear yelling, and screaming, but I can’t focus on anything else. My body is close to hyperventilation, and my heart feels like it’s stopped beating. My vision blurs as I finally reach the lifeless form on the ground. There’s blood everywhere, most of it coming from her cracked skull. I drop to my knees, coating myself in her warm blood as I lift her broken head into my hands. Her mouth is open, and there’s blood coming out of it in thick rivulets.

  “Lanthie,” I sob. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Get the master,” someone yells.

  “Is Lanthie her name?” a guard whispers.

  “No, her name is Isabella.”

  “Lanthie,” I cry, feeling my head spin. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. He wouldn’t stop, I tried to get him to stop so I could get to you.”

  “She’s lost it. Someone get her away.”

  More yelling, and more orders. I {ore1; s scream, and grasp at the bloody body as a set of hands hook under my arms. Horrific flashes of memories fill my mind. I can see her head, all that blood, but it’s being replaced with the image of a blonde girl. I shake my head, gripping the sides of it and screaming as I’m pulled further away. Another set of arms wrap around me, but my body is too weak to fight.

  “Lanthie,” I sob. “Lanthie, baby, I’m sorry.”

  “Hush, Beauty.”

  I begin to squirm in his grasp; it’s his fault she’s dead. My Lanthie. “Let me go. No, it’s all your fault. You stopped me from going to her,” I scream, thrashing.

  “You’re hyperventilating. You’re imagining something that isn’t there. Be calm.”

  “Let me go,” I wail. “Let me help her. Please, let me help her!”

  “George,” I hear him bark. “Get me an injection.”

  “No,” I scream so loudly my own ears ring. “No, don’t! Let me go, please, God, don’t let her die. Please, it’s all my fault, I didn’t get to her in time. Please, let me go back.”

  “Hush, it’s not real. Lanthie is not here.”

  “You’re a liar! Don’t you take her from me.”

  “Number Thirteen,” he barks. “The girl on the ground is Number Three. It is not Lanthie, it is Number Three.”

  “You’re a liar, liar, liar!”

  His arms tighten around me, and another person takes hold of my shoulder. I feel a sharp sting in my neck just before my legs give way.

  “Lanthie,” I whimper again, before darkness consumes me.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  WILLIAM

  “She’s gone, sir,” George says, walking into the room. He’s covered in blood, and his head is hanging.

  A sharp pain rips through my chest, and I take a deep, ragged breath.

  “The police?”

  “They are finished, they will call if they need more.”

  “She jumped to her own death,” I whisper, glaring at my hands.

  “It isn’t your fault, sir. She was damaged.”

  “I was meant to help her,” I bark, lifting my eyes and shooting daggers at him.

  “Some people can’t be helped.”

  I don’t bother to answer. He doesn’t understand. No one does. These girls are here with me for a reason, and I’m meant to be teaching them to trust me. They’re supposed to understand that they can have a good life here if they do the right thing, not jumping off a building out of fear. It makes me question everything I am.

  “Is Number Thirteen still out?” he asks.

  I turn my head and stare at my closed bedroom door. Number Thirteen hasn’t stirred; she hasn’t even made a sound.

  “Yes.”

  “May I ask, sir, but who is Lanthie?”

  “Lanthie is her sister,” I murmur, still staring at the door.

  “Oh.”

  Yeah, oh.

  Oh means that Number Thirteen had a memory flashback; it also means she’s beginning to remember. There is only so much I can push back now. There is only so much I can keep from her. I lift my hands, and grip the sides of my head, tighten {hear. Thing my jaw.

  “The other girls?” I grate out.

  “They’re all asleep, sir. I gave them tablets.”

  “This is going to damage them.”

  “We will get through it.”

  I’m not so sure about that.

  Hell, I’m not so sure about any of this anymore.

  ~*~*~*~

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  “Faster, faster!” Lanthie cries, her blond locks splaying out as I spin her.

  “I’m going as fast as I can,” I cry.

  “Don’t drop!” she coos.

  “I’d never drop you.” I giggle, stopping us both. We flop to the floor, smiling.

  I stare down at my tiny little sister, and she grins up at me. She’s just coming on three years old. I love when my momma is away, because it means we can just play and have fun. It means he doesn’t come around. When he’s around, bad things always happen.

  I flutter my eyelids open, and it takes me a second to realize I’m not in my own bed. I reach up and rub my eyes. My fingers tingle, and my hands are numb and heavy. I shift my body and groan, feeling like I’ve been lying in this spot for days. I sit up, wincing as everything strains and pulls. I peer around the room, and notice I’ve not seen it before.

  Where am I?

  I try to remember what happened, and while it takes a moment, it comes to me. Number Three killed herself. A strangled sound leaves my throat, and I press my hand to my chest. Tears tumble down my cheeks. How could this have happened? Why didn’t I realize she was so far gone? I promised I’d take care of those girls, and I let her down.

  The door creaks, and I lift my head to see it open and close. It’s still dark, so I can’t see who has come in.

  “Who’s there?” I croak.

  “It’s me.”

  Master William.

  Anger bubbles in my chest. How dare he come in here? How. Dare. He? It’s his fault more than mine that Number Three jumped. If he’d let her remember, if he’d let her process her own memories then this would have never happened. I take a steadying breath, but bile rises in my throat.

  “Get out,” I finally rasp.

  “I’m very sorry about...”

  I cut him off before he can continue. “You’re sorry,” I snarl. “You’re sorry? She’s dead. She’s dead because of you. You starved her of herself. You took a piece of her away, and wouldn’t give it back. You had no right!”

  “I was protecting her, the same way I’m protecting all of you.”

  “Protecting us?” I cry. “How are you protecting us? You’ve stolen us from our lives. You’ve erased our memories. You punish us like we’re dogs.”

  “I. Did. Not. Steal. You.”

  His voice comes out like ice, and it’s clipped.

  “Then give us back
our memories.”

  He makes a growling, throaty sound. “Did you ever think I was keeping those memories for a reason?”

  “And what reason could that possibly be?” I demand.

  “You’re not ready to process them. I’m trying to make you stronger, trying to build you up before I let you deal with something like that.”

  “That’s a poor excuse that̵ {used I lif7;s used by a man with a sick fetish. You tell yourself whatever you need to, William, but we all know what you are!”

  “And what is that?” he hisses.

  “A freak.”

  The room falls deadly silent. I realize I’m crying heavily now. I swipe the tears from my eyes as I wait to see what he’s going to do. The room becomes eerily still, and I hear nothing for the longest moment. Then I feel him move closer to me. His warm breath comes down to my ear, and I flinch, jerking my head away.

  “That was a mistake.”

  He takes hold of my arm, and hurls me up from the bed. He tugs me towards the door. He swings it open, and drags me with force out the door and down the halls. I can only see his back, and his dark hair swishing around his shoulders. He yanks me towards the basement, and I dig my heels in. No, he can’t send me down there. I just lost a friend; he can’t do this to me.

  “Let me go,” I cry. “Don’t you hurt me the way you hurt her.”

  He doesn’t answer, nor does my struggling stop him from pulling me along. He opens the basement door, and we step down. It’s dark down here, but has a faint light that’s enough for him to see what he’s doing. He throws me onto the ground, and yanks my hands up, shackling them to the wall above my head. I try to kick out at him, but he’s too quick. He’s on his feet before my foot even gets close to hitting him.

  “All I am trying to do is...”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I shriek. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’re a monster.”

  I feel something move fast, and then his hand is pressed over my mouth. Hard. I cry harder, and clench my eyes tightly shut.

  “Instead of screaming me at every chance you have, maybe you will stop and realize what I’m doing here. I did not steal you girls; I saved you. I took you all out of a hard, painful life and I put you in my care. All I ask for is respect. This is my home, and I control what goes on here. If you understood that and just listened, things would go as they needed. Number Three was damaged. She was fragile in the mind, and her life before this was less than desirable. Her mind was scarred; it didn’t matter how much I took from her. Very soon you will learn that if you want my respect, and my kindness, then you will do the right thing. What you did in there was disrespectful, and the act of a bully. I despise bullies. Now, you will be punished for it.”

  He lets my mouth go and stands, exiting the room before I can say anything.

  What is there to say?

  He just rocked my world, and I don’t quite know how to process that.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  I’m thirsty.

  My throat is dry, and it hurts.

  I’ve been down here for twelve hours, and no one has come down to see me. I’ve cried so much my body is beyond dehydrated. It aches, and my heart constantly hurts. All I can think about is Number Three. Her life was cut short before she had the chance to remember who she was. No one deserves that.

  I want to hate William for it, but if what he says is true, how can I?

  It still doesn’t explain why he has us. Why would anyone want to save thirteen girls? Why not two, or twenty? There are so many broken people in the world, so why did he pick us? Why were we good enough to try and fix? My entire body a {entpan> yches, and my heart is jumping around in my chest to a point where it actually hurts.

  None of this makes sense.

  Every time I close my eyes I see Number Three launching herself off that roof. I remember her words just before she turned and let herself soar. “I want to be free.”

  She looked like a falling angel as she so gracefully took her own life.

  Just thinking of it has a pained cry escaping my lips. I thrash my head from side to side, wanting the image to just leave me alone. I don’t want it there. My body begins to shake as I let the reality of this entire situation sink in.

  “I don’t like doing this.”

  I snap my head up, not having heard anyone enter. I see William in the shadows. He walks closer, and but in the darkness I can’t see him properly. I turn my eyes away anyway, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to see the man who is bringing too much pain to my life. He walks over and kneels in front of me, then he pulls something out of his pocket, I lift my eyes enough to see it’s a gag. I gasp, and push myself backwards, only to collide with the wall behind me.

  “Don’t, please.”

  He takes my head gently, leaning in close. I shake my head from side to side, angry tears cascading down my cheeks. This close I can see he’s got a patch covering his eye. Why is he wearing that? Is there something wrong with his face?

  “I’m sorry, Number Thirteen. I do wish you would just understand that if you gave me a chance, this wouldn’t happen. You will go another twelve hours with this in your mouth, and perhaps by the time I take it out, you will stop running your mouth off and begin doing the right thing.”

  He reaches up, taking my chin. I jerk my head out of his grips, still sobbing like a small, broken child. He strokes a tear from my cheek, and then leans down, so close his lips are nearly touching mine. “I’m not here to hurt you, frumusețe. I just want you to learn.”

  I shake my head, but he’s got too firm a grip on my chin. He leans down closer, and I can smell him. He smells masculine, with a hint of red wine. I stare at his lips, watching as he slowly licks his lower one. I feel that right down to my belly, and warmth floods over me. I hate him, I hate...

  His lips press against mine.

  And for a moment, I stop feeling.

  Everything seems to come to a standstill as his mouth covers mine, warming my insides, easing the burning in my heart. I open my mouth and gasp as he slides his tongue out and traces my lips with it. My entire body comes to life, hating that the feeling I’m having right now isn’t one of despair, but one of lust. He’s getting to me. He’s breaking through my wall.

  He pulls back, and I realize I’m panting. Big puffs of air escape my slightly parted lips as I stare at his devastating face. He strokes my cheek once more, then he lifts the gag and gently places it in my mouth. The feeling of having something restricting the ability to speak, hell, to even breath properly, is terrifying. My entire body stiffens, and I make a pained sound in my throat.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, standing and disappearing into the darkness.

  I kick out in my chains, and the saltiness of my tears burns my eyes.

  I hate him. God. I do.

  But part of me...just a tiny part...is warming towards him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  I won’t give in.

  I {wid="c won’t

  cry out.

  I won’t let him see he’s winning. I’m stronger than this. This won’t change my passion; this won’t change my determination. What he’s doing here is wrong, no matter how many times he tries to tell himself he’s doing us all a favor. He’s not—no, he’s being cruel and heartless. One silly little kiss won’t change my mind about that. I won’t let it. I won’t let him corrupt my mind.

  I won’t.

  FOUR HOURS LATER

  It hurts.

  My entire jaw is throbbing, and I’ve run out of tears.

  He’s wearing me down. He knows leaving me in here for twelve hours is enough to send me over the edge. I hate not being able to speak. I don’t like my rights being taken away from me more than they already have. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much I want to curl up and give in—I won’t.

  No, he won’t win.

  SIX HOURS LATER

  Everything aches.

/>   My back, my body, my legs, my he

  ad, hell—my mouth.

  I managed to find a few more tears, and I let them go freely. There’s no point in holding them back. I know he’s watching me; I want him to see what he’s doing. I want him to see that I might cry, and I might seem weak, but I’m not giving in. I’m not opening that last part of myself up. I’m not going to give in to him.

  I can’t stop thinking about his lips on mine.

  I want to, but I can’t.

  EIGHT HOURS LATER

  I thrash and squirm, yanking my chains and screaming, even though the sound isn’t loud because it can’t break through my gag. I shove my legs forwards and backwards over and over, twisting my body, and growling with a deep, angry frustration that is consuming my body. I can’t let him beat me on this. I can’t let myself turn into...her...Number Three.

  He won’t win this lesson. He won’t.

  God, he won’t.

  TEN HOURS LATER

  I hang my head, staring at my crossed legs. I can’t feel them anymore, and I don’t even care. What’s the point in fighting when there’s nothing left to fight for. If I had listened from the start, instead of thinking about myself, then I could have saved Number Three. I was so wrapped up in escape, and look where that got me.

  I’m here, gagged.

  She’s dead.

  TWELVE HOURS LATER

  My fight is gone.

  It’s been gone for hours now.

  Instead, it’s replaced with shame and hatred. Not a hatred for him, but a hatred for myself. This is my fault. If I had behaved and just did as he asked, none of this would have ever happened. I should have listened; hell, if I’d followed the rules we might all be getting rewarded now. Instead, I have a dead friend and I’m here, helpless, my spirit crushed.