“Better,” she murmurs.
The door opens again.
Two men step inside in black suits. Security. Big shoulders. Blank faces. One has an earpiece. The other looks at me like I am furniture that needs moving from one room to another.
I do not back away.
I think about it.
My body does not listen.
One of them touches my arm.
“Come on.”
My stomach turns.
I should fight.
I know I should.
But my limbs are heavy, and the fear inside me has gone cold and still. It sits under my ribs like a stone.
He guides me toward the door. I go because he is moving me and because I do not know what else to do with a body that does not feel like mine.
The hallway outside is red and gold and dim. Music drifts through it. Men’s voices rise and fall. Glass clinks somewhere ahead. The carpet is thick under my bare feet.
We pass a half-open door.
Inside, another girl stands with her face turned away while somebody fixes her strap.
I look at her.
She does not look back.
At the end of the hall hangs a heavy curtain. Light spills around the edges. Bright. White. Too bright.
A man’s voice rolls through the microphone beyond it, smooth and pleased.
“Gentlemen, next we have a very special addition tonight.”
Laughter answers him.
My pulse stumbles.
The guard’s hand tightens on my arm.
I should pull away.
I don’t.
I can’t. My body doesn’t obey.
Maybe some part of me already knows there is no point in making them drag me the last few steps.
The woman in black appears in front of me one last time. She straightens the strap of my chemise. Pushes my hair off my shoulder. The gesture is almost gentle.
That is the worst part.
