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“What’s that?” she whimpers, her chin wobbling.
His shadow slides over her, turning the white of her outfit, the white of her skin, black as old blood. Madison’s eyes are ready to fall from her skull. I know what is about to happen before it happens.
I remember the way Mila ripped open her own clothes to show me the chained fox forcibly inked on her shoulder.
“No!” I shout, holding up my hand to intervene. “Let me handle this.”
He eyeballs me curiously. “Handle what?”
“I’ll search her.”
I look at Madison with a new swell of sympathy. The poor thing probably had plenty of terrifying men looking over her body. If Arsen were to do it … it would break her after all that she’s been through.
Arsen stands taller, his eyes becoming suspicious slits. “You don’t know what to look for.”
I face him without fear. “A fox on its haunches surrounded by chains.”
His eyebrows shoot up. He must be surprised that Mila, such a closed-off, dangerous person, might share something so vulnerable with me. I feel him evaluating me with fresh eyes. There’s interest and a new air of respect. “Then I’ll leave this to you.”
Thank God. The idea of Madison being examined like a horse at a trade show makes me sick. “Give us privacy, please,” I say.
Madison darts her attention between us. She hasn’t spoken in several minutes and that doesn’t look about to change. But unless I’m imagining it, some color has returned to her face and she’s breathing easier.
Arsen hesitates at the door. “The fox should have three legs.”
“Three?” I repeat.
“Yes. The fourth, with the chain, is only added once a girl is trained and broken. She is neither.” His long, dark stare at Madison communicates to me that he has also noticed how young she is.
The women who get the finished tattoo are changed forever.
I wonder helplessly what Mila was like before the last leg was added.
Arsen closes the door as he exits. Letting out a quick breath, I smile gently at Madison.
“Sorry about all that,” I tell her. “He’s been through a lot, so he’s suspicious of … well, everyone.”
“It’s okay,” she whispers meekly.
She’s so nervous ... How did someone like her find the courage to try and escape?
Silence stretches between us. I’m supposed to be checking her for ink, but the awkwardness of the situation is sinking in. Gnawing at my tongue, I debate how to begin the process. Madison is staring at me—has she blinked in the last minute? “Maybe we should take off your coat,” I start.
She unzips the front, exposing the thin, ribbed purple sweater underneath. I flinch at the sight of the long sleeves. Getting out of this without her stripping down isn’t happening. To my amazement, Madison doesn’t wait for my next instruction; she keeps going—the sweater is yanked over her head, sending her long hair into a cascade of waves. Static makes the thin strands cling to the sweater before it’s set lightly by her feet. She’s not wearing any undergarments.
“Here,” she says, twisting to show me her back and shoulder. “This is what you’re looking for, right?”
Madison’s back is a canvas of bony ridges. I want to take her downstairs to the kitchen and plop her in front of a stack of Olesya’s famous pancakes. But instead I stare at the canvas of pain and hurt spread across her body.
Painted on her right shoulder in stark black ink is the familiar shape of a fox on its haunches, its black body surrounded by thick, detailed chains.
Three legs, I confirm to myself. It’s just like Arsen said. I’m not relieved. Finding out that she was definitely forced to endure life in a brothel is horrible. It would almost be better for her to be a liar. I try to imagine the things she’s seen … the things that she’s done. If she were my daughter, I’d be so worried about her. I touch my stomach, roiling with empathy for a parent I’ve never met, and for my future child as I picture it going through what Madison and Mila have.
Yevgeniy must be stopped.
Something on her left shoulder draws my eye. There’s another tattoo. This one is a strange, thin rod. I can’t make sense of what it’s supposed to be. A bat? A baton? “Did they tattoo this on you as well?” I ask curiously.
She cranes her neck to see what I’m talking about. Pain flickers in her eyes for a moment as she shakes her head.
