I don’t understand what she means.
“You’re already competing. I thought that we could be friends, but you’re just trying to scare me.”
“I’m not,” I whisper. “It really happened.”
“C’mon, you expect me to believe that? That this place has some dungeons or men who come to your room and rape you? That’s stupid.”
“Why?”
“Because this is York. We are here to meet a desirable bachelor and to compete for his heart. That’s all. It’s a reality show that’s not aired on television.”
I shake my head.
“They would never do anything bad to us. We can come and go as we want.”
“Please, you have to believe me,” I plead. “This place isn’t what you think it is.”
But it’s too late.
“I thought we could be friends. But I’m not going to be friends with someone who says these things,” she says, waving her hand.
Then she turns on her heels and walks away from me.
Just as I’m about to follow her, an older woman with a tight bun and a severe expression on her face approaches. She’s holding a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other.
“You should not have done that, Everly,” she says under her breath.
“Done what?” I play innocent.
“You are not to tell anyone in this contest what you have gone through, do you understand?”
I shrug.
“I thought that would be obvious, but I guess it requires saying. Unfortunately, your friend now knows too much.”
“What does that mean?” I gasp.
“You are responsible for her elimination, Everly,” the woman says.
Two men in tuxedos approach Alessandra and escort her to the stage. Her eyes light up and she practically jumps up in excitement.
It takes all of my effort to not follow her out there and tell her to run. But it’s futile. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen regardless of what I do.
As soon as she is positioned on the rotating stage, the announcer begins.
“This is Alessandra Costa,” he says. “She is 5’11 and 119 pounds. Her mother had nine children and she is the second youngest. The only girl.”
Something is different about this. Details are disclosed. What are they doing?
My heart jumps into my chest. But Alessandra simply spreads open her shoulders and readjusts her hands on her waist. She is proud to be here. Like a beauty queen, she enjoys being judged.
“Alessandra has a college degree in early childhood education and she loves children. Let’s begin the bidding.”
The bidding?
The friendly expression on her face vanishes. Instead, confusion settles in on the ridge of her nose.
She is not expecting an auction.
Neither am I.
I look around the room.
The woman with the clipboard is standing very close to me.
Watching me.
She’s making sure that I don’t say another word.
The rest of the contestants look mesmerized, but interested more than confused.
“Alessandra, you are going to be progressing through the competition quite swiftly,” the announcer says. “You are the lucky one to be auctioned off first.”
The unsure expression on her face vanishes.
A smile appears.
“That’s a good girl,” the announcer goads her. “Now, why don’t you give us a twirl?”
She’s about to be sold off.
But to whom? I have no idea. No one good, that’s for sure.
“I will start the bidding at one-hundred thousand dollars,” the announcer says.
Alessandra’s eyes light up, as if she’s the one who will be getting the money.
I may not know much about this place, but we are not here to make money.
We are here to be used by people with money.
I’m certain that she will not be getting a penny from that use.
The numbers quickly climb.
$150,000
$235,000
$345,000
$505,000
$550,000
“Sold for five hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” the announcer says proudly. Alessandra is so happy she can barely contain herself enough to step off the rotating portion.
When she gets backstage, she runs straight into my arms.
“Can you believe it? I’m going to get more than half a million dollars!” she exclaims.
“Alessandra,” I start to say, but the woman next to me pinches my back. I glance back at her.
“Congratulations,” she says to Alessandra. “You are our first winner.”
Everly
When I move on…
First winner my ass, I want to say.
I want to say many things.
I want to tell Alessandra that she’s not getting any of that money.
That she has just been sold into slavery.
That she will never see her family again.
That this is a house of horrors.
But she looks so happy.
Overjoyed.
I can’t bring myself to do it. She will learn these things soon enough.
Will knowing them an hour earlier do anything but give her just an hour more of hurt and pain? Of course not.
“What’s going to happen to her?” I hiss at the woman with the clipboard.
How can she be so callous? So uncaring about this? What made her this way? I wonder.
“A sultan bought her,” she says. “So, I imagine she is going to live a long life as his new girlfriend. As long as he doesn’t get bored with her.”
I shake my head.
“Why…why am I here?”
“Someone wants you here.”
“That’s not a good answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
I pace back and forth. Women in gowns start to glare back at me as they wait for their turn on r stage. They are just as eager as Alessandra was.
They congratulate her on her bid, as if she’s the one who is pocketing the money.
They can’t wait for their turn.
Are these women mad? Or am I?
Suddenly, I can’t contain myself any longer.
“I have to talk to you,” I say, running up to Alessandra and pulling her away into a dark corner.
What happened to waiting? For letting her figure it out on her own? I don’t know.
Could you watch a car crash happen and not try to do something, however futile and pointless? I thought I could.
“Get away from me!” she yells and pushes me back.
Just then, someone grabs my elbow and pinches it really hard. I wince in pain. Someone else pins my arm behind my back.
My shoulder blades throb and I can’t break free.
“The Prince may want his revenge,” the woman with the clipboard hisses in my ear, “but the King will only put up with so much disobedience."
I turn my face away from hers. She grabs my chin and forces it back.
Then she takes her hand and with an open palm slaps me clear across my face.
My cheek stings in pain.
Hot tears roll down my face.
I’m not entirely sure if my cheeks are burning from the pain or from the humiliation. I do everything in my power to stop more tears from coming, but it’s all to no avail.
One sob turns into another and another.
“Shut up,” the woman hisses and slaps me again.
And again.
I continue to cry as the guards pull me further into the recesses of the backstage area. We disappear into the darkness and none of the contestants seem to notice.
Behind the curtains, the woman with the clipboard tries to reason with me.
Her tone softens and she tells the guards to leave us alone.
Much to my surprise, they do as she says.
“You can’t behave like this,” she says. “You have to calm down. You have to
play the game. You ended up in the dungeons, but you came back. You are the only one to ever come back, Everly.”
She says my name. My real name.
“Do you understand that?” she asks.
I shrug.
“Is that a big deal?”
“You remember the dungeons, Everly?” she asks.
I nod.
“Do you want to go back?”
I shake my head.
“Then you don’t want to test his patience.”
“Whose?”
“Whoever is looking out for you. He pleaded for your mercy. He got you out of that dungeon. You don’t want him to regret that decision.”
I shrug.
“Do you not care what happens to you?” she asks, shaking my shoulders.
I look into her eyes.
Who am I kidding? Whatever is happening here is one hundred times better than what was happening there. I can’t argue with that.
“Yes, I do,” I say after a moment. “Of course, I do.”
“Then make them want you.”
I stare at her.
“Your performance out there intrigued them. But you need to continue. You need to surprise them. They are always watching.”
“Who?”
“The judges,” she says.
“So, what should I do?”
“For one, do not tell any of the other contestants about what you have been through. I don’t know if any of them have been in the same place you have, but none of them have been to the dungeons. Assume they all want to be here. Like Alessandra did.”
“But she’s going to be hurt.”
The woman shakes her head and looks away. “Of course, she will. You all will. You just made it that much worse.”
“What?” I gasp.
“This was just a showing. This isn’t even the first round. And because of what you said, they had to have an auction to sell her off.”
My whole body starts to shake. “But I wanted to protect her.”
“The way you protect her is to stay quiet. The way you protect yourself is to win this competition. Trust me, the winner will get the best prize out there.”
“What is it?”
“It’s something special.”
“Freedom?” I ask hopefully.
She casts her eyes down. “You will never have freedom.”
My heart sinks and I look down at the floor. But she brings her finger to my chin and pulls it back up. My eyes meet hers.
“The next round is the cocktail party. They will be watching your every move. They will try to surprise you, but you need to surprise them instead. Impress them. Intrigue them.”
I nod as if I understand what she means.
“Carry yourself with confidence. Put your shoulders back and hold your head high. You are here and you are in charge. Make yourself believe that and they will believe it, too.”
I nod again. As she turns to walk away, I reach out to her.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Mirabelle.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because I was once a girl just like you. Alone. Lost. But strong. Willing to do anything to stay alive.”
Everly
When we meet again…
As I enter the hall, I go directly to the bar.
I can’t bear to talk to a single person, let alone flirt or smile, if I don’t have a drink.
After ordering a glass of wine, I sit down on the stool, keenly aware of the fact that I’m not wearing any panties. No one gave me a replacement pair after what happened on stage.
The rest of the contestants scatter around the room to talk to men in tuxedos, but I need a few moments to myself.
How much do they know about what’s really going on here? I have no idea.
Are they all excited to be here like Alessandra is?
Or are some of them like me, someone who has seen glimpses of the truth?
I am not naive enough to think that I have learned the whole truth about this place. I have seen their lavish cell, the dungeon, and one in between, but deep in my heart I know that there is so much that I haven’t seen yet.
When my drink is ready, I take a few sips and try to put together a strategy.
Should I make my way around the room and meet some people or should I sit here and wait for someone to come to me?
There are pros and cons to either approach.
If I circulate, then I’m in control. I can come and go as I please.
But if I sit, I can also look around the room and get more of a feel for what everyone else is doing.
I take another sip of my drink and turn slightly on my stool.
That’s when I spot him.
A murky figure out in the distance.
I recognize him immediately.
It’s almost as if I can smell him.
Can he smell fear in return?
I turn toward the bar and wait.
Then it occurs to me.
I need an element of surprise.
When he touches me, I turn around with a smile.
I flutter my eyelashes.
I flirt.
Scared of Abbott?
Oh, of course not.
I’m happy to see him.
He says something to me. I say something back.
We are bantering. Joking.
Like acquaintances trying to become friends.
I can tell by the expression on his face that he’s confused.
But also impressed.
Perhaps, she is happy to see me, he is probably thinking.
Men like him are so arrogant that there’s no room in their minds for common sense. Why would I be happy to see him? Why aren’t I angry? Is he really this charming? I’m sure that he thinks he is.
But then…something else.
I take a sip of my drink as soon as I see him.
Alcohol isn’t the best thing for clearing one’s mind, but it’s the only way I can take a moment for myself.
What is he doing here?
Easton.
I remember him immediately.
He’s the guy who tried to warn me.
My fingers start to tremble.
I press them down into the bar to keep them contained.
My jaw clenches.
He’s trying to pull Abbott away from me. But why?
If it weren’t for my anger, I’d be able to assess the situation better. But when I look at him, all I see is red.
It’s him.
That’s why I’m here.
He warned me about Jamie, but that was nothing but a trap.
Easton urges me to follow him outside.
He wants to be alone.
A chance to talk.
I don’t want to hear it.
I don’t want to know him.
I want to get away from him, but something is pulling me toward him.
Perhaps, it’s all the hate.
I want to unload on him.
But I can’t, can I?
I’ve pushed the limits of the rules of this place already.
No, I will be poised.
I will stay put together.
Below us, the waves are softly caressing the sand. An idea sparks up in a flash. What if I pushed him over the edge? But am I strong enough?
I take a step forward, but he moves away from the edge.
Just like that, my moment is gone.
He is making amends.
Apologizing.
Trying to convince me that he’s not the reason I’m here.
I smile. I nod. I accept his words, but I don’t internalize them.
He is a liar.
We both know this all too well.
Suddenly, there’s fear in his eyes.
Cameramen are coming.
Soon, our privacy will be gone.
Soon, we won’t be able to talk like this.
Wait a second, what does that mean? Is that fear in his eyes? No, it can’t be.
Gl
ancing back at the approaching cameras, he tries one last time. I look deeply into his eyes.
They can’t hear me yet.
We are alone.
This is my chance to tell him the truth.
I take a deep breath.
“I’m done with this place. With the games you all play,” I hiss under my breath.
He says that he doesn’t play games, but we both know that’s a lie.
“You’re playing the hero,” I say. “You are pretending to help me so you can rescue me. But not before betraying me at the end.”
He looks hurt, but that’s just another game.
When the cameras surround us, I take his hand in mine and squeeze it as hard as possible.
Then I look deep into his eyes and thank him for his kindness.
Lying was never anything I could ever do well.
But thanks to my time in York, I’m developing all sorts of new talents.
I’m becoming quite an actress.
If they want to see a show, then a show is what I’ll give them.
They haven’t seen anything yet.
I pull my hand away from him and spin on my heels.
Holding my head up high, I walk away.
As soon as I take a few steps, I feel sick to my stomach, but I don’t dare show a bit of my queasiness.
I lift my chin higher to the ceiling.
This is my runway.
I relax all the muscles in my face and carry myself with grace and composure.
Cameras disperse around me as I walk back, and I realize that Easton isn’t the only person I need to worry about.
Everything that’s happening here is being recorded.
For someone.
And shown.
To someone.
But who?
Everly
When I meet a girl…
Cocktail hour comes to a close as soon as I return. The men quickly disappear and we are told to follow two servants in black gowns to a large lobby area just outside of the cocktail area.
The floors are marble and there’s an enormous winding staircase snaking its way to the second floor.
In the middle of the hall, there’s a vast round table with a huge bouquet of flowers.
A man in his mid-forties wearing an elegant tuxedo stands near the table. His hair has hints of gray, and it doesn’t budge an inch as he moves and talks. He has a soft, effeminate voice with a hint of a Hugh Grant-type of English accent.
House of York Page 10