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Chapter 7
CHRISTY
“There, that’s better,” Nala says, then immediately blushes. “I didn’t mean… I just meant…”
I wave away her embarrassment, staring at my reflection in the mirror and my perfect porcelain skin. There’s no hint of a birthmark in sight. This foundation has even better coverage than the one I’ve been using recently. My shoulders relax a little knowing that I have my mask in place.
“It’s fine. Itisbetter,” I say, giving her a small smile as I lock gazes with her in the mirror. She stands behind me, her hands folded in front of her as she waits. For what, I’m not sure.
Dropping my gaze, I rest my fingers on the bottle of foundation. Like the bubble bath in the bathroom, there’s no label, and the bottle itself is oddly shaped, like a conch shell you might find on the beach. It has a glass stopper, rather than a screw cap to keep the liquid inside. I don’t know of any makeup brand that uses such a design. It seems dated, old-fashioned somehow, even though the contents are definitely twentieth-first century.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Nala says, taking the bottle from me and holding it in her hands.
“It’s unusual. What’s the brand?”
“Brand?”
“You know… Maybelline, Rimmel. Perhaps it’s Chanel?” I muse.
“Oh no. Thirteen makes it.”
“Thirteen? Another Number? But I thought you said there were twelve?”
“Shit,” Nala curses, then immediately covers her mouth with her hand.
“Nala?” I question, turning to face her. The soft cotton of my nightgown swishes over my legs as I move. The material is loose and drops to the floor and the sleeves are long, reaching my wrists. It sits high on my neck too, covering up every inch of skin, but the material is thin, hinting at my nakedness beneath. I’m not sure what The Masks are trying to achieve by making me wear this, but if it’s to make me feel uncomfortable then it’s definitely working. “Nala, please. I didn’t tell them about the fact you visited me in the dungeons. I promise, I won’t say anything.”
She grimaces, then eventually nods. “Thirteen is like you, I guess.”
“Like me?”
“Yes. She doesn’t perform like the others do.”
“Perform?” I ask, so many questions swirling around my head. “Perform for who? What do you mean?”
“She’s here because of what she can do as much as the other Numbers are, except her gift is a little different.”
“Her gift?”
“She looks after the Numbers in a way. She makes things…” Nala unfurls her fingers around the bottle of foundation. “This for example. All the makeup. The bathing milk you washed in. Perfume. Ointments, lotions and healing balms, that kind of thing. She’s never had to entertain the guests like the others. The Masks wouldn’t make her, she’s too...”
“Too what?”
Nala pulls a face, biting her lip. “Too precious.Fragile. She’s their family now.”
“Family? Yet she’s called Thirteen. What’s her real name?”
“No one but The Masks knows and they don’t call her by her name because shewantsto be known as Thirteen. When she arrived here a year ago she came of her own accord. This is her home bychoice.”
“So it isn’t home by choice for the other Numbers?” I ask, knowing it to be true.
Nala chews on the inside of her cheek. “At least not at first. It’s different once they understand…”
“Understand?”
“They want to be here,” she continues, ignoring me. “It’ll be the same for you, eventually.”
“Wow,” I say, unable to wrap my head around all the new information or Nala’s naivety. She’s young, yes, but she must understand what is and isn’t right. Then again, if she’s lived here all her life, then her impressionable mind can easily be indoctrinated. Perhaps her bringing me food and water was simply a kindness, not an indication that she understood the gravity of my situation and wanted to help me out of it.
