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Even as my own hope dwindled, and my body was assaulted, a small smile spread across my lips at the idea that I was able to rebel, even in just a small way.
Lilly clears her throat, pulling me back out of my memory. “You did the right thing…killing him. He was a monster, but it made The Sheriff really mad.
“He’d been planning to put you up for auction soon. Apparently, someone very wealthy has expressed an interest in you after seeing you dance. Though, I had heard, he wasn’t interested in selling you, but something changed recently.
“I don’t know what exactly, but from what I’ve heard, there’s someone else who wants you too. Because the Sheriff thinks there’s a chance to earn more money if there’s a bidding war, he’s now interested. Or, at least, he was…until that night.
“Now, he still wants to sell you, but he’s imposing restrictions on the auction, which he rarely does.”
My breath hitches as my stomach ripples with nausea. “What restrictions?”
Lilly sighs, and I know she’s reluctant to tell me. I squeeze her hand, reassuring her that I need to hear this. I need to be prepared for what’s to come. “He’s imposing a minimum undisclosed reserve. If it’s not met, you won’t be sold. Also, whoever buys you has to agree that you will be brought back to be a headline act, to make up for the one you set free. The person who buys you can, to a degree, set the rules, but there will be things The Sheriff and his assholes expect to see.”
Her voice is shaky, and I can tell there’s more she’s not saying. “It’s okay, Lil. You can tell me.”
“You will be expected to work at the club each night until the auction, same as always—your mouth is all that is available. However, before every auction, they have an event where people can see the Lots. It’s basically a night where The Sheriff gets to show off what he has to offer, in an attempt to raise the price. You will be punished in front of the crowd,” she says softly, her hand gripping mine tighter as it begins to tremble.
“I’m guessing a public punishment is worse than this?” I question, trying to force out a little laugh at the end to lighten the mood.
“I’m sorry,” Lilly mutters, as she wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a hug.
I wince as the pressure from her firm hold hurts every bone in my body, but I don’t let go. If anything, I latch onto her tighter, as a rogue tear slips from the corner of my eyes. I told myself I wouldn’t shed any more tears here, that I would be strong. But in the arms of a girl who has probably endured far worse than I have, for so much longer, in the cold dark room that may be the last place I ever see, I allow myself a moment to be weak.
I cry for the life I’ve lost, for the things that will be done to me. I cry for the things I’ve already had to endure. Even if I make it out of here, I won’t be the same. Teigan Murphy died a long time ago, and the empty shell left over is just struggling to survive. Though, with each passing second, all I can think about is why the hell I’m still trying to survive. Can I even have a life if I get out of this hell?
As the depressing thoughts circle my mind, I allow myself a few more moments of despair. I allow the darkness to creep into my soul as I dream of a better time. Nights laying on the bonnet of Evan’s car, curled up under a blanket as we looked at the stars. With his arms around me, I knew I was loved and protected.
I’d give anything in the world to feel that just one more time. But allowing these thoughts into my mind is more dangerous than the depression or despair. Hoping for a time I will never see again is far more dangerous. So I close myself off. I make myself go numb, so I can fight as much as I can.
I may not know what life is waiting for me on the other side, but I’m not ready to stop fighting yet. I will get free of this hell, and then I will do whatever it takes to bring down every last person in The Aristocracy.
It’s been five long fucking days since I found out about the auction. The only reason I know it’s been this long is because The Sheriff has been pulling me into the club each night to punish me, whilst telling me it’s a great honour that he’s allowing me time during the day to rest and recover.
It’s such bullshit. We both know the club doesn’t open during the day, and there are only a few girls he trusts enough to send out to others in daylight. I’m sure as fuck not one of them.
They’re usually the girls that are so off their tits on drugs, they’re not even aware they are being moved. They stand no chance of trying to escape, as they can barely hold their own heads up straight.
Not that I blame them. I know the shit I’m forced to endure is not even a fraction of what some of these girls go through, and a lot of them have been here far longer than me. I like to think Iwill be able to hold out, but as a few of them have explained, the drugs help to numb them, so they’re less aware of what’s been done to them. They don’t care that their bodies are being used and abused without their consent, because the drugs allow their mind to travel somewhere else.
As much as I say I wouldn’t want that, if I were in their situation, faced with the horrors they’ve endured for far longer than I can imagine…lets just say I can’t judge them. I also can’t stand on my high horse and say I wouldn’t follow in their footsteps. There are some things it’s better to block out, and if drugs are the only way to stop them from feeling, who am I to judge?
Even my punishments over the last five nights haven’t been as bad as I was expecting. Not that I’m fucking complaining, of course, but it feels like I’m on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sometimes fear of something creates a buildup that is so much worse than the thing itself. That’s how I’ve been with the punishments.
After the first night, I begged Lilly for answers. There are times when I can tell she knows more than she reveals, though she usually has her reasons for keeping them to herself.
“Lilly, I have to know. What’s going on? Why isn’t he punishing me the way he does others?”
Lilly scoffs, like I’m asking a stupid question—which I guess I am. “Can’t you just be grateful he’s not punishing you like he should?”
I let out a small sigh. “I am grateful, but I’m confused. I’m so fucking on edge, waiting for things to get worse. At first I thought that was part of the punishment. You know, me waiting for things to get worse, never knowing when they will, or how bad it will be. But now I’m not so sure.”
Lilly takes my hand in hers again, her rough, calloused fingers providing me with more comfort than she realises. “He can’t punish you properly…and believe me, it’s pissing him off.”
My brow furrows, and I narrow my gaze at her. There’s a small light shining in the corner of the room now, so I can see the sad expression in her bright blue eyes. “Why?”
“You’re worth more to him if you’re not damaged. He wants to make sure you bring in the most he can get for you, and a lot of his buyers don’t like girls with marks or scars,” she mumbles, and even in the low light, I can see the way her eyes lower to her own skin.
Lilly is a beautiful girl, even with her far too skinny frame and pallor, but she has scars etched across her body that tells her story. Everything she’s endured and survived, they’re all marked on her skin, and when she talks about them lowering value, I know she’s thinking of herself.
