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“You won’t get special treatment. You’re no better than us, no matter what you might think,” she sneers.
“Excuse me?” I stop and turn to her after Miri’s back on our bed.
“You heard. You’re just a whore, same as the rest of us, looking for your next paycheck.”
“I’m nothing like you. And I’m certainly no whore.” She looks me up and down before crossing her arms. The other girls in the room are all quiet, so I don’t worry. After all, there are plenty of other things we should be concerned about.
“I’m watching you,” she spits.
I walk away, twisting my head to look at her. "You have nothing to watch me for. Keep your eyes on the men who burnt our flesh.”
Miri’s on the bed, and I pull the blankets over her and tuck myself in next to her. “Sleep,” I whisper, kissing her temple. “Sleep.”
But sleep eludes me. My mind churns with thoughts of Jackson, of a future where we aren’t locked in a room without even our dignity intact.
~
None of us have seen daylight in days. The training room is a locked box, just like this cell. And the club upstairs doesn’t have windows – at least we’ve not seen any.
Morning is only defined by the time we are woken or called on by the trainer. Or, if we’re lucky, some sort of breakfast food is given to us, usually by the kinder woman. Reed called her Jamie.
Today isn’t any better than yesterday, and the hunger wakes me from a surprisingly restful sleep. I brush aside the reasons I was so ready for sleep and focus on the ache in my stomach.
With nothing to keep my scar covered, I take a look at the damage but note how it looks a lot better than last night.
The door opening sets all our nerves on edge, and even those still sleeping wake and pay attention. The click of stilettos on the stone floor announces the trainer as she breezes in.
Some of the others gather towards her as if eager to hear what she says.
“Today, you’ll rest. A pause in your training, if you will, but I expect you all to keep in mind the lessons learnt over the past days.”
“We can’t walk, thanks to your barbarians,” I shout from my bunk.
“Shh, please, Naja,” Miri breathes softly.
The sound of her heels on the floor tells me she didn’t miss my remark.
“Give us clean bandages and antiseptic.” I twist and look up at her, wondering what her story is – how she came to be such a cruel bitch in charge of such heinous crimes.
“You will learn to hold your tongue.”
She grabs my jaw with her fingers and squeezes. It’s uncomfortable, and I move to lessen the pain, regardless of her pulling my puppet strings. She shoves my jaw harshly, and despite my effort to remain standing, I drop to the floor.
I look up at her and try to read her eyes. The only thing I can hold on to is that we’re here for something – to make money for her – so she won’t kill me.
I hope.
“You will all be ready. In a matter of days, you’ll have to put everything you’ve been taught into practice, and I won’t have any fuck ups. Do you hear me?” She bares her teeth at me like a dog. And as quickly as she turned, she’s all smiles and back to being the professional. “You will answer any command with yes, and you will remember that you represent me. Because if things don’t go well, then you’ll really understand what pain feels like.” She tosses that threat back as if it’s an afterthought.
I haven’t moved from the floor, and I won’t. Not until we’re alone. “Bandages and antiseptic, unless you want us all hobbling around like invalids!” I shriek. Maybe she’ll change her mind if we’re less than at our best.
She whips her head around, but takes us all in.
We’re all suffering.
“Fine. Outfits will be brought in. Choose, and choose wisely. You’re here to impress.” Her voice is cold and holds an edge of frustration.
“Impress who?”
