Lock: A Dark Retelling

by Kimberly Knight

  "Thanks." He took it and started to wipe the stuff off. It was then that I realized it was his semen. "This is definitely not how I thought tonight would go."

  "Me either," I admitted.

  Frankie got out of the bed and put his boxers on. "Next time will be better."

  "Next time?"

  "Yes. I can't let you think this is how sex is. I didn't even do my best moves." He grabbed his sweater from the floor.

  "So, you're coming back?"

  "As soon as I can. Remember to call me if Madam wants you to be with a client." He pulled the sweater over his head.

  "I will." At least, I hoped I could. I would call him if Madam told me to clean up and get dressed like she had the night Frankie first showed up. That would be my first clue, and I'd hoped it would be enough time for him to save me.

  After he got dressed, he left my room, and I went to the bathroom. When I wiped, I realized I was bleeding a little. Was this really what sex was like?

  The next day, Madam didn't wish me a happy birthday, and it was the first time the girls didn't celebrate my birthday. They still wished me one, but there was no cake. We didn't want to remind Madam if she had forgotten, and it was apparent she had.

  The girls took care of me after I'd told them that Frankie and I had sex. They gave me an aspirin and asked me how it was. I told them the truth about it hurting, and that I didn't enjoy it. Apparently, that was normal for the first time. I didn't tell them about the cell phone, though. That was my and Frankie's secret. It wasn't because I didn't trust them to know, but I couldn't chance Madam ever finding out.

  At bedtime, I pulled the pho

  ne out from between the mattresses, and to my surprise, I had a text from Frankie: Happy birthday, princess. I've been thinking about you all day.

  I smiled as I read his message and then texted him back as I hid under my covers in the dark: Thank you. I've been thinking about you too. Wish you were here.

  I started to put the phone back in its hiding place, but it buzzed in my hand.

  Frankie: How was today?

  As I read his text, I thought that maybe he was asking me what Madam had done since we were scared she would make me a working woman now.

  Me: We think Madam forgot that it was my birthday. I haven't seen her all day.

  Frankie: Good. Don't fucking tell her. That gives me more time.

  Me: I hope it's soon.

  Frankie: Me too, princess. The next time my father goes out of town, I'm coming for you.

  Me: When will that be?

  Frankie: I don't know.

  I frowned as I read those words. Even though I didn't know where Frankie would take me, I just wanted out, especially now that I didn't know what Madam would do once she remembered I was eighteen.

  Frankie: I have to go. Get some rest, and I'll text you tomorrow.

  Me: Okay. Goodnight.

  Frankie: Night, princess.

  That week, I was excited to go to bed every night because that’s when Frankie and I would text. I loved being able to talk to him each night. I finally had a friend my own age. A friend who made me feel special.

  Frankie: I'm sorry I can't come tonight. My father has me working to get ready for our next auction, but you call me if Madam even hints that you'll be with someone tonight, and I WILL be there.

  That night was the monthly party that Madam held for clients. She hadn't told me that I would be in the lineup. She also hadn't mentioned my birthday, but I was still on edge because, with a snap of her fingers, I would have to do whatever she wanted.

  Me: I'm in my room waiting for one of the girls to be done so I can clean it. I think I'll be okay.

  Frankie didn't text me back, and I started to read the book I had recently borrowed from Leanne. I didn't get far before I was called down to clean a room, and then I spent the next few hours cleaning all the rooms and serving drinks until the party was over.

  When I was done with the rooms, I wasn't done cleaning because it was a party night. I had to clean the sitting room and anywhere else people left drinks or food or drugs. Party nights were full of alcohol and cocaine. By the time I started to mop the floors, I was exhausted. My back hurt, my neck hurt, and my feet hurt.

  I smiled at Marcus as he stood next to the elevator. "Having a good night tonight?"

  He nodded. "Not too bad. You?"

  I continued to mop. "Same."

  It was late, so I left the conversation at that. Even though the guards kept me and the girls in, I still liked them. They were nice to me.

  I was almost finished for the night when I heard my name. "Zell."

  I looked up and toward the elevator to see Marcus grabbing his chest. "What's wrong?" I rushed to him, the wood handle of the mop crashing to the ground.

  "My chest," he groaned and fell to the floor.

  I crouched beside him. "Your chest? What's wrong?"

  "I think I'm having a heart attack. Get help!"

  I stood to reach for the phone that was on the wall but stopped. This was my chance. I hated to treat Marcus this way or to think about what would happen if no one knew he was lying on the floor, but I had to take it.

  I had to leave.

  Instead of grabbing the phone, I pressed the button for the elevator, and the doors opened. As I took a step to get inside, Marcus wrapped his hand around my ankle, trying to hold me back. I wiggled free and got into the car, pressing the bottom button that I remembered pressing years ago when I'd gone to feed the ducks.

  "I'm sorry," I said as the doors closed.

  The car began to descend, and my heart started to race. It was happening. I was finally leaving on my own. I didn't know what to do except run, so I did. When the elevator came to a stop, I raced out of it and to the front door. Cold air blew across my skin as I rushed outside before the doorman even had a chance to open it. I didn't have a jacket; I was only in the black dress Erin had given me because I had to serve drinks for the party and my black flats. It didn't stop me from running, though. I didn't know where I was going, but Frankie had told me he lived a few blocks away. Would I find him? Would he see me running? I didn't know in which direction he lived, but I didn't stop. I needed to get as far away from the house as I could.

  I ran, and I ran, and I ran until I had to stop at a corner to cross the street. A car drove by, and after it passed, I took a step off the curb to keep running, but a van pulled up beside me, blocking me from going across. The side door opened, and I was picked up, a hand placed over my mouth, and I was thrown into the van as I kicked.

  "I'm sorry," I cried, moving against the cold metal side. "Please don't tell Madam."

  "Shut up!" the guy who had grabbed me yelled, his hand smacking my cheek at the same time. It stung. "You're to do as we say, or we will kill you."

  "Kill me?" I questioned. "I'm sorry for running."

  "Running? Running from where?" he asked. I couldn't see his face because there were no windows in the back of the van, and only a small amount of light flickered through the dirty windshield from the streetlights as we passed.

  "From the house."

  "What house?"

  "Madam's. Please just let me go. I won't tell her."

  The guy slapped me across the face again. "Madam? Who the fuck is Madam?"

  I rubbed my cheek and felt wetness from my lip. Was I bleeding? "Saffron—"

  "Aw shit, dude," the driver said. "We got one of the boss's whores from the whorehouse."

  "It appears that way," the guy next to me stated.

  "Please!" I begged.

  Crack! He slapped me again. "What did I fucking tell you about talking?"

  "Saffron is—"

  Crack! "Didn't they teach you manners at the whorehouse? Shut up!" I did, rubbing where he'd hit me multiple times. "You know what I'm thinkin'?" He looked toward the driver.

  "What?" the driver asked.

  "I'm thinkin' we get a freebie. You know, for saving this whore." He slid the spaghetti strap of my dress off my should
er, and I tried to retreat, but I had nowhere to go.

  "I don't know, dude," the driver argued. "You know we're not supposed to touch the merchandise."

  The guy next to me ran his hand up my bare leg, and tears started to roll down my cheeks. I was so scared. "Those whores have had more dick than all the women we've picked up combined. What's two more?"

  "Please!" I begged again. He raised his free hand, and I flinched, but he didn't hit me.

  "There's nowhere for me to pull over," the driver stated.

  "Pull into an alley." The man next to me cupped my crotch through my panties. "Aw, the whore is shaking."

  I was. I couldn't stop the terror that was racing through my body. "Fran—"

  Crack! "You need to learn better. Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

  "Nah, dude," the driver responded. "We're almost to the warehouse. I don't want to take the chance of the boss seeing us parked."

  The man touching me pushed me back and yanked down my panties before I could stop him. He pressed his forearm across my throat to hold me down and to prevent me from talking. "Suit yourself. I'll be done before we get there."

  A knock sounded on the office door of the warehouse. It was late, and my father and I were almost ready to leave for the night. Each girl was inventoried and ready for the auction the next day. It made me sick to think that all twelve of the innocent women were going to be sold, but there was nothing I could do about it. My father was a smart man, and I knew that it would take him several months to trust me enough. I didn't think he would ever let me take over completely, but I had an idea. I was going to set fire to the entire place once it was empty.

  "Enter," Father called out.

  "Uh, boss." Warren rubbed the back of his neck as he entered. "We picked up another one."

  "Why are you telling me?" Dad questioned. "You know the procedure."

  The process was to throw them into a cage and wait until my father was ready to inspect them. That wouldn't happen at midnight like it was now.

  "Because it's one of Saffron's girls."

  My ears perked up. One of Saffron's girls? How did she escape?

  "What do you mean, one of her girls?" Dad asked.

  Warren opened the door further, and in a blink, a girl was pushed into the room by his partner, Enrique. Except, it wasn't just any girl. It was my girl. My Zell. I started to stand and rush to her but stopped. I couldn't show emotion. My father knew that I had gone back a few times, but he assumed it was for sex. I told him that it was, and he left it alone. When he asked me about my run-in with Saffron the week before, he was impressed that I'd held my ground, told me I was learning quickly, and before long, I would be feared like he was.

  "Where did you find her?" Dad looked over at me, questioning if I knew what was going on.

  I shrugged, but fuck if I didn't want to rush to Zell and tell her everything was going to be okay, to comfort her. She was shaking, her lip was cracked and bleeding, and her dress was torn. Warren and Enrique had done more than just pick her up, and I didn't fucking like it. My blood boiled at the thoughts racing through my head, but I had to be calm, pretend I didn't care about her.

  "She was running down the street, and we picked her up," Warren replied.

  Running down the street? How the fuck did she escape? Why didn't she call me?

  Dad stood and moved to Zell, her gaze on the floor. I wasn't sure she knew I was in the room because she hadn't looked up. "Why do you look like this?" Dad asked, fingering the broken strap of her dress.

  "She—"

  Dad held up his hand and silenced Enrique. "I asked the girl. I want her to tell me." But she didn't. Zell started to cry instead. "Tell me, girl. Tell me how you got out of the penthouse and ended up here."

  "I ran away," she whispered on a sob.

  "How?" Dad inquired. Surprisingly, his tone was almost as though he cared.

  "Marcus had a heart attack or something." She sniffed, not looking up from the floor. "And instead of helping him, I left."

  "So, your mother doesn't know where you are?"

  "Mother?" Enrique questioned, but my father didn't answer him.

  "No, sir," Zell responded.

  "And why are you bleeding?"

  "You know how—"

  Dad held up his hand again to silence Enrique. "Let the girl tell me."

  Zell lifted her gaze slightly, and it connected with mine. Her eyes widened in surprise, and I nodded for her to tell him. Worst case, he was only going to take her back to the penthouse. This was Saffron's daughter, after all.

  "He"—she nudged her head toward Enrique—"hit me and made me have sex with him."

  "You what?" I lunged for him.

  "Don't worry.” He held up his hands as I grabbed the lapel of his coat, slamming him against the wall. "I used a condom."

  "You think that makes this better?" I growled into his face. I knew my feelings for Zell were showing, but I couldn't help it. Enrique's gaze moved to my father as though he was looking for help. "Don't fucking look at him. I asked you a fucking question."

  "I … What?" he stuttered.

  "Tell me what you fucking did to her."

  "I—I just roughed her up a bit. We do that with unruly whores."

  I was seconds away from kicking his ass when my father spoke. "Leave us."

  I looked over at him and furrowed my brow. "What?"

  "Now!" he ordered Enrique and Warren.

  "What do you want us to do with her?" Warren asked as I released my grip on Enrique.

  "I'll deal with her," Dad stated. "Now, get the fuck out."

  "Yes, sir," they responded at the same time.

  "You're just going to let them leave?" I questioned, waving my hand in their direction.

  He held up his hand and moved back to his desk, crossing his arms across his chest. The door closed, leaving me, Zell, and my father alone.

  "Are you just going to let them do this to Zell?" I asked. "You know she's not one of the whores at the penthouse."

  "You mean to tell me that she is only your whore?"

  I stared at my father. Was this a trick? He knew I went to the penthouse to be with Zell. "You know the first time I was with her that she was a virgin," I stated. That was no longer a lie. "I've been breaking her in."

  Zell started to cry harder. She had to know I was lying to protect her.

  "Since she is your whore, you're going to deal with this," Dad stated.

  "Okay."

  "All of it."

  "Okay," I repeated. This was our chance to somehow get her out of there, but I still had no place for her to go.

  As if on cue, his cell phone started to ring. He picked it up. "Saffron."

  Zell and I looked at each other, and I wished that she was in my arms. She was like a scared, abused cat, and I just wanted to comfort her. No matter what my father told me, I wasn't taking her back to that place. I knew doing so would impact my timeline for shutting down his trafficking, but Zell took precedence. I had cash from my cut of the drug sales, and that could get us by for a while—I hoped.

  "I know. She's here," he advised Madam. "My men picked her up … I know, she told me … Yes, she told me about the guard … We're bringing her home … Yes, soon … Okay, bye." He hung up.

  "I'll leave now," I told him, already knowing he wanted me to take her back to the penthouse.

  "Not so fast." He set the phone back on his desk. I swallowed. "You need to deal with Enrique and Warren."

  "Meaning?"

  "They touched the merchandise. They know that's against the rules. What are you going to do about it?"

  I drew my head back and blinked. Violence was his answer to everything. "You want me to kill them?"

  "You need to set an example. Turning a blind eye won't make people fear you, Son."

  "Who will take their place as grabbers?" I asked, trying to talk him out of it. Even though Enrique hit and raped Zell, I wasn't sure if I could kill anyone.

  "We'll find others. Anyone will do anyt
hing for money."

  I glanced at Zell again and then back at my father. "I need a gun."

  Dad rose off the edge of the desk and walked to a picture behind his chair. He pulled the photo of a woman's face away from the wall and revealed a safe. He opened it and pulled out a silver handgun. "I've been waiting for this day to give you this. It was your uncle's."

  I took it from him, trying not to show that my hand was trembling. I'd shot guns before, and now I realized it was my father training me without me knowing it. "Where do I do it?"

  "The docks."

  "Okay." I tucked the gun into the back waistband of my jeans. "Is that all?"

  "Don't disappoint me."

  "I won't. They fucking disrespected us." I knew that would get my father's approval. Disrespect was high on his ‘Do Not Fuck with Me’ list.

  "Push them into the harbor when they're dead."

  I nodded once and reached for Zell to take my hand. She did, lacing our fingers as we made it to the door.

  "Oh, and, Frankie?" Dad called out. I looked over my shoulder at him. "Aim between the eyes."

  I didn't have time to think of an actual plan. I knew I had to get them to the docks and then leave with Zell, and the only way that would happen would be if I drove and pretended they were just helping me take her back.

  "Let's go," I ordered, pointing toward the main door.

  "Yes, sir," Warren said and started to walk with us.

  "What's going on?" Enrique questioned.

  I stopped walking and looked at him. "Are you questioning my orders?” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my father in the doorway of his office.

  Enrique looked at my father for confirmation and then back at me. "No, sir."

  "Then I suggest you get your ass moving."

  "Yes, sir," he agreed.

  "Keys," I barked and held out the hand that wasn't holding Zell's. I didn't fucking care that I was still holding her hand. It was clear they fucked up, and they would know that much before the night ended. Warren tossed the keys to me.