AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Because I know someone’s watching.
My skin crawls with the sensation, but I’m too stubborn or frightened to look because I can’t see who’s behind the glass.
Noise from outside the room pulls all of our attention to the door.
“What’s happening?” Miri asks.
“I don’t know. Just stay quiet.”
The door opens, and a tall, blonde woman walks in. She’s slender and might be pretty if she didn’t wear such a stern-looking face. One of the men from the dock is with her, his eyes scanning over us as if he’s sizing us up.
“Hello, girls.” She addresses us in English, but she has an accent she can’t hide. Maybe Russian or Eastern European? I can understand her, but some of the other girls look less sure. I play along, though. Ignorance is bliss, right? “Your wonderful hospitality is being provided by The Priory, the place you’ve been promised work from. But before that, there are some standards that I’ll help you meet.” She makes sure to look each one of us in the eye, and I know that every word from her mouth is poison. The pleasantness in her voice is far too fake and it makes me question what she’s here to do.
And nobody told us about work.
Although maybe the work isn’t what my dark fears tell me this will be.
“My help is essential if you are to succeed, and, let me tell you something – you all want to succeed.” She paces back and forth. “We start with the basics.” She cocks her head to the side as if scrutinising me before looking at us all.
The man who does nothing but stand by her side casts a lingering look in our direction.
She points to three girls and then Miri.“Come on, Elias.”
He moves towards Miri first, but I pull her behind me and stand fast.
“No, we stay together,” I protest, keeping her away from the man. The woman approaches us and looks me in the eye. Despite speaking in Danish, I know she understands. Her eyes narrow at me before she waves her hand as if this is of no consequence to her. “Fine.”
My hand squeezes Miri’s, and the man shoves me towards the door, grabbing the other two girls soon after. As we follow the woman out of the room, more men make it clear we have nowhere to go.
It’s dark outside of the room we’ve been held in, and we follow a line of lights towards another room. It looks purpose-built, not part of the original building. I look for signs of other girls, other people or doors, a way out, but nothing gives me any hope.
Miri clings to my arm as we approach the new room. My stomach drops and fear snakes around my throat, making it difficult to breathe, but I’m relieved when the woman swings open the door and walks in.
Glancing around, I note soft furnishings, chairs, and seats, a dining table decorated with place settings, a bar, and in the corner, a rail of glitzy clothes. It’s confusing, as I’m not sure what this is for, but there are no men in the room, which, above all else, is my greatest fear.
The four of us hover near the door, unsure if this might be some elaborate trap, and don’t enter further. Trepidation fills me, and the pull to turn around and run is hard to squash.
As I bury it down, one of the other girls makes a run for it. She only makes it a few steps outside of the room. Another man blocks her path and turns her around. He looks up and I lock eyes with him. Recognition hits – he’s the one who helped me at the dock.
He stares right at me, and I fight to look away but fail. The connection is lost when he pushes the girl back into the room before slamming the door behind her, shutting us all in.
“Don’t be fooled, girls.” The woman perches on the edge of the table, bouncing her foot in her ridiculously high heels. “You are here to do as you are told. If you can do that, there won’t be a problem. Forstå?”
The girl who ran for the door breaks into tears, and I can feel the tension in Miri’s body as she stiffens.
“You will be beautiful. You will be obedient. You will learn to be anything you need to be. And it starts now.” Her words drip with an authority that tells me there isn’t any way out of this mess.
For the next however many days, we go to that room and do as she instructs. Each session is different – a new skill or some way to ‘better us’. We only ever go four at a time, and I never let Miri leave my side.
The first few visits were tolerable. There’s a bathroom with a shower, and we’re washed, waxed, and preened within an inch of our lives. We’re told how to sit – straight, with our hands neatly in our lap. How to pour a bottle of champagne, which glasses to use. While doing this, she shouts lines in English that we are to repeat.
Yes, Sir.
Can I help you, Sir?
What can I do for you, Sir?
These limited words paint a cruel and disgusting picture of what we’re here to do – who we’re here to serve – and the woman simply looks on, supervising our care.
