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Better stock.
The words make me feel sick to my stomach. Feeling like an animal is different than being described as one.
For the first time, it really hits me how little anyone here cares about me. To them, I am nothing more than merchandise. I am only as good as the price I can fetch.
Also for the first time, I’m terrified.
“What a compliment,” I bite out sarcastically, pushing through the sudden thickness in my throat. I don’t want anyone to see me cry. Even this woman.
I realize that I don’t even know her name.
She steps forward and extends a hand to help me to my feet. I place my hand in hers, feeling her cold fingers on my skin, and stand on shaky legs. Getting accustomed to the heels will be a process, given what my body has been through in the last few days.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Just a servant,” she says quickly. “Here to assist you.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I mean, what is your name?”
Her eyes widen in surprise, and then the fear returns. “Names aren’t important here.”
She spins away from me quickly and pulls open a drawer in the rickety dresser behind her. When she turns around, she has a shimmery red leather collar in her hand. It looks like a high-class dog collar. Dangling from it is a gold charm.
“This is for you,” she says, unhooking the clasp and holding the collar out towards my neck.
I jerk away from her so quickly I almost lose my balance. “What is that?”
“It is how you will be recognized during the auction.” She tips the charm towards me so I can see the number ‘7’ engraved on the face of it. “You are Number Seven.”
I shake my head. “No way. I’m not a fucking dog.”
“It is easier to go along,” the woman reminds me in a trembling voice. “It is just one of their rules.”
“My name is Eve.” I lay a hand over my heart, feeling the beating against my palm. It is a good reminder that despite the way I may feel in this situation, I am still a human being.
“I know,” the woman says softly. Then, her eyes dart around the room again and she leans forward. “And my name is Kari.”
“Kari,” I say, testing the name out.
She shushes me quickly. “Don’t use it. And don’t use your own name unless specifically asked. It will be easier that way.”
I want to fight, but I have no idea what is next for me, and I have a feeling I will need all of my energy. So, I concede this battle.
Kari lifts the collar to my neck, and I lift the still-damp waves of my hair to let her fasten it.
The material is smooth against my skin, but I can feel it tighten around me with each swallow. This thing could be made of pure gold and rubies. It doesn’t change the fact that it is a fucking collar.
8
Luka
Isearch every nook and cranny in the room in hopes of finding something I can fashion into a weapon. But the room is clean.
Even the glass from the picture frames has been removed in an abundance of caution. I tap on the mirror in the bathroom, but it is apparent that it is some kind of reflective plastic rather than actual glass. So, unless I want to braid the clothes in the closet together to use as a noose, I have no choice but to leave the room with nothing more than the clothes on my back and my mask.
I half expect to find Edgar lurking outside my doorway when I open it, but the hallway is empty. As I walk back towards the lobby, though, I hear soft voices. I follow them.
The armed guards who were standing by the door before are gone now, though I am certain there is still heavy security all around me. The whole building is tingling with pent-up aggression, like a vibration in the walls themselves.
