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“I would do as your friend here says.” His snake-like voice curls around my spine, sending shivers up and down.
“I don’t w-want...,” she continues to stutter.
Everything inside me coils, knowing what’s about to happen. All because she can’t just shut up. Ramsey stops in his tracks, whipping around, stalking toward us. We all go still. Sarcos shoots his hand out, stopping him.
“We are two donors short already. You need to control yourself.” His eyes glow a brilliant red. I blink several times, but his eyes remain the same. He turns on his accomplice.
“If she can’t learn to listen to us, she’ll never get out of the auction alive.” My back stiffens at his words.Auction.
It’s as we feared. We’re going to be sold. My body begins to shake, but Ramsey grabs the chains and pulls, jerking all of us forward. “This is your last warning. You will die in this hall if you say another word.”
Her head falls forward and she manages to stay quiet the rest of our trek. We veer to the left down another hall, and the right side of the wall gives way to what looks like a communal shower.
“You will clean yourselves up. There shall be no dirt, vomit, or any other stink left to be found,” Sarcos warns, unlocking the chains shackling our feet and eventually removing the cuffs from our hands. All of us look to each other hesitantly. “Move,” he barks.
We all obey, filing in and going to stand under the spouts coming from the wall. Soaps and shampoos line a ledge that spans the shower area. I pick one up, fumbling to open the top. Steeling my hands to stop them from shaking, I bring the bottle to my head, catching a whiff of lavender. I breathe it in, relishing the first fresh smell I’ve encountered in days. No longer caring, I remove every piece of clothing.
Eagerly, I begin lathering my entire body with the shampoo. Scrubbing at my hair violently, I try desperately to rid myself of the grime and memories from the cell. The fact that I’m naked and surrounded by others doesn’t deter me. I’ve never been more desperate to be clean. Standing under the warm water, I let go of everything. For this one moment, I enjoy a luxury I may never have again.
“Can I use that?” a familiar voice calls to my right. I look over to see the redhead, finger pointing to the shampoo I’d just used. “The shit at my station was practically gone...and it smelled vile. Not like that,” she tilts her chin toward the bottle.
“Y-yeah, sure,” I said, holding the shampoo out to her.
“Thanks. Not that I should be trying to smell nice. Whatever asshole pays for me doesn’t deserve it,” she says, venom lacing every word.
I simply nod, because what the hell else can I say to that?
“Thanks,” she says, giving me a small smile, before making her way back to her stall. Grabbing the bar of soap, I lather myself up once more. I think about the redhead and wonder what her story is. Where did she come from? Who was shebefore? It helps me to relax slightly. For a few minutes I’m not thinking about the auction or the horrible red-eyed monsters.
“Time’s up,” Sarcos yells from the entrance. I don’t bother covering myself. He doesn’t seem interested in our naked forms, for as soon as he’s made his command, he’s gone. Lying on the floor in a pile are hospital gowns. I stiffen. Are we to be examined? I don’t have time to waste on that thought. We all throw the plain blue coverings over ourselves. Anything to cover us from these creatures. Ramsey appears holding handcuffs, ready to bind us again.
We’re all being pushed back into our line, chained and paraded down the maze of hallways. We walk for a short distance before coming upon two massive iron doors.
“You will remain quiet and only speak when you’re asked a question. Do you understand?” Ramsey demands.
We each dip our heads, not knowing if we should speak. With that, he throws open the doors, showcasing a cavernous room. The walls are made up of some type of grey stone. There are no windows, save for the small circle at the top of the domed ceiling. Bright light filters down, meaning it’s daytime. On one side of the large room, red velvet barber chairs are lined up in front of a row of mirrored stations. Statuesque men and women stand behind the chairs, unmoving. They are cloaked in black robes that reach the floor. Thick black collars cling to their necks.Are they prisoners too?
On the other side of the room is a line of elegant wooden wardrobes with circular platforms directly in front of each.What the hell is this place?
The enormous doors are shut behind us with a loud crash. We all jump at the noise, on edge and unsure what to make of the scene before us. Ramsey begins to unchain us while Sarcos slams a long iron bar across the doors, effectively bolting us in.
“You.” He points to the mousy girl. “There.” She scurries to the nearest chair. Every girl is placed at a station until it’s finally my turn. A woman with purple-streaked raven hair motions for me to take a seat. She says nothing, but begins tugging at my hair with a comb. I wince at her lack of tenderness. Not that I expect anything else in this hellish prison.
“We should keep it natural and long.” Her smooth Australian accent is beautiful in a place born of ugliness. “Your hair’s natural highlights will draw attention from bidders. You’re stunning.” A small smile graces her lips. It’s the first sign of kindness I’ve been shown. Fruitless hope wells to the surface, but I smash it down.
She begins to trim, blow-dry, and finally curl my strawberry blond hair. I want to smack her hands away and run, beg her to help me. Anything to garner a reaction, but I don’t bother. There is no escaping this place, and I’d do well to remember that. I would never survive. My best chance at this point is to play by the rules and plan my escape once I leave this fortress.
My face is powdered, eyeshadow applied, mascara added, and a gloss placed on my lips. After what feels like hours, I’m turned toward the mirror. I gasp at my reflection. The person staring back at meisstunning. But it’s not my face that stares back at me. It’s Maggie’s. We were twins, but you could always tell us apart. She was always the one that liked frilly things. Her makeup was always exquisitely done, and her hair curled to perfection. I didn’t have time for those things. They seemed ridiculous given our life and all the crazy that accompanied it.
The woman gives me a handheld mirror and spins me around so I can see the back of my hair, as if I had a choice about the style. “You will bring in so much money at the auction,” she says, then leans into my ear and whispers, “Get out of here and find a way to help us all.”
My eyes widen at her words. In the mirror, I see the choker on her neck turning red. The mirror slips from my grasp, shattering into a million pieces on the concrete floor. I spin around in time to see her hands come to her neck, desperately trying to remove the collar. “Help me.” Her strangled cries have two men approaching, grabbing her by her wrist and dragging her away. I sit stunned. What just happened?
A lady with pink and purple hair and a clipboard comes over to me, completely ignoring the scene that just unfolded.
“Number seven-seventy-six.” I sit dazed and shaken. “Number seven-seventy-six,” she bites. I raise my eyes to her. “You are number seven-seventy-six.” She points to me. “I’m Ratilda, not that it matters to you.” She tsks. “I need to pin this to your chest,” she says, not waiting for me to respond. A piece of paper with the number 776 is attached to my hospital gown. “You will go to the next station when they call your number. Do you understand?” She raises a brow.
“Yes. Seven-seventy-six.”
