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“Alek is our tormentor, but he’s also the person who can make the pain go away. He is cruel, but when he’s kind, he makes you forget how malicious he can be.”
Saint said something similar long ago.
“What have I become? Before all this, I used to be a…saint.” That word holds so much meaning to me, and it has nothing to do with my religious childhood.
Sara frowns, weighing my response. “Well now, you are a…fallen saint. But unlike a fallen angel, you were never given a choice to sin.”
Her analogy appeases me somewhat.
“We need to get out of here.” Now more than ever.
But when Sara lowers her eyes and tugs at her bottom lip, I grab her wrist. “He’s coming for you too.”
She shudders. “The possibility of freedom scares me.”
I wait for her to explain.
“What do I have out there anymore? A family who forgot about me, that’s what. The only person who cared about me is dead. I’m fighting so hard to break free”—she sniffs softly—“but nothing awaits me on the other side.”
“Don’t say that. Anything is better than here. We are getting out of here. Together,” I add because I mean every word.
A ghost of a smile plays over Sara’s lips, and maybe, even if it’s a mere second in time, she believes it. “Saint really cares about you. I’ve never seen him with anyone the way he is with you. It gives me hope that someone will look at me that way again.”
When tears stream down her cheeks, I’m the one to console her, and we sob together for our lost innocence. But hopefully one day soon, we’ll find it again.
Day 74
I’VE DONE THIScountless times before. Dress in fancy clothes. Paint my face. Ensure not a wisp of hair is out of place. But this time is different because when I shed my skin, my future will be changed forevermore.
Once this silken garment pools at my feet, will it mean I am free? Or will the outcome have me wishing to never disrobe again?
Sara arranges the tiara in my once again long hair, thanks to the extensions she painstakingly clipped in. “You didn’t have to put in the extensions. I’m happy with the way my hair is.”
I peer at Sara’s reflection in the mirror I’m sitting in front of, wondering what’s going through her mind. She’s a lot quieter than usual.
“But thank you, Sara. Thank you for everything.” I reach for her wrist as she adjusts the hairpiece. “I suppose our hair looks a little alike now.”
She instantly averts her gaze while biting her bottom lip. The gesture has me raising an eyebrow, and I get the feeling she’s hiding something.
“You look beautiful,” she says, changing the subject as she slips from my hold.
“What will you wear?” I ask as she’s still dressed in her ratty maid’s outfit. I wish she’d take something from my closet. She can have it all.
“I’m not invited,” she replies, avoiding eye contact.
“That’s bullshit,” I cry, turning over my shoulder to look at her.
“I don’t have anything to wear anyway.” She tugs at her white apron, ashamed.
“Sara,” I chastise. “You can wear anything from my wardrobe. You know that. I insist.”
I attempt to stand, but she shakes her head. “I couldn’t stomach being in the same room with those monsters anyway. I’d rather stay up here.”
I don’t press because I can’t blame her. If I had a choice, I’d join her. But I don’t.
Inhaling, I look at my reflection. I shooed away the makeup artist Alek sent to glam me up. I refused to be dolled up because to do this, I have to be as comfortable as I can be in my own skin.
My eyes are dusted with a shimmer and winged with a black liner. My cheeks are rosed. My porcelain skin boasts red lips. It’s simple, but the rubies in my ears and hair are enough.
