Page 25 of Her Last Audition


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“Ahh, she lives,” he croons, running the back of his hand down my face. I swallow deeply and want to push his hand from my face, but my body feels frozen. I try to open my mouth but it's beyond dry and even that small movement brings another wave of dizziness.

“Ahh, careful now,” he says, and I feel a hand come up and gently cup the back of my head. Something cold presses to my lips and I open my mouth gratefully. I drink as much as I’m allowed to, and release an involuntary sound when the cup is taken away.

“Too much will make you sick,” Eli says, putting my head back down with more tenderness than I’d expect. I look up at him with knit brows and my body curls in, trying to cover itself. It’s then I notice the chains are gone, and pause, lifting my wrist.

“I must be getting soft,” he says with a chuckle. He trails his hand down my arm until he reaches the sore spot on my bicep.

“Do you know what this is, Vixen?” he asks as he presses down, causing me to whimper. “Amazing what they can do nowadays. With this little shot, you won’t get pregnant.”

He smiles, leaning forward into my face, running a hand down my cheek. “And soon enough…” He trails off with a sigh, and I watch him stand and move toward the door, pausing just short of it.

“Rest up, tomorrow will be a big day.”

The door closes behind me and then I realize there is a small plate of foot on the floor. A chunk of bread and a small bowl of some kind of soup or stew sit on it, along with the rest of the glass of water.

It’s a long time before I touch any of it, though.

15

Kinsey

Away From the Sun

The next fewdays are much the same, and every day, I’m terrified I’ll be brought to auction with a full face of makeup. We get no more chances to really talk, but daily, Jaime passes me small smiles, and I’m grateful for some kind of friend in this place. I don’t seek her out or look too long, though. I’m afraid of what I’ll see.

Jaime and the other girls are taken elsewhere after we do our makeup. Given to men, only brought back hours and hours later. I get sent to my room prettied up and clean, but so far untouched. I don’t know why they make me do it and the uncertainty of knowing what's coming, beyond Eli’s daily threats and promises, leaves my stomach in knots. Even if we were given more than one meal a day, I don’t think I could eat.

I hear when the other girls’ doors close late at night after they’re brought back. Once, I heard a girl sobbing loudly in one of the cells late at night, but a sharp word from the hall quieted her quickly.

I get no glimpses of outside.

One meal a day, pushed through the dog door.

Just cell, hall, shower, makeup, cell.

The in-between times are almost unbearable, leaving me with nothing but my own mind. Time passes slowly when you are left with nothing but your thoughts.

Every day, Eli comes in the afternoons to visit, after I’m dolled up and brought back to my cell. I don’t know how to act around him; fear keeps me docile, but I have a bad feeling that my submission only spurs his obsession.

“Hello, my little silver Vixen,” he greets as he walks into the room, the same smirk on his face as always. He steps up to the cot, reaching down to lift my chin to look at him. His eyes roam over my body and I resist the urge to shiver at his touch. His smirk grows, as though he can hear my thoughts.

“You hate this, don’t you?” he says, his voice quiet, barely above a whisper. “What else might you hate, I wonder?”

He touches me in soft ways while whispering threats of pain and rape.

Every day, I wonder when he’ll follow through.

* * *

It’s beena week of this when I turn to what has become my usual makeup table beside Jaime before a large hand on my arm stops me.

“This way,” is all he says, never letting up the firm grasp on my elbow while he leads me through the room. I look back at Jaime to find her face is pale and the small smile that usually graces her lips isn’t there. Fear courses through me as I’m led back toward the studio. Will they tie me up and take pictures again?

We get to the studio, and I don’t know whether to be relieved to see no lights set up, and Angelo nowhere to be seen. So, no photoshoot. Uncertainty is worse.

The guard keeps his hold on me and walks us through the room to another side door, opening it up to reveal a small makeup room. A little man with bushy eyebrows sits there with a scowl on his face.

“Hurry up, hurry up!” He ushers me into the room none too gently and I notice a hint of some kind of accent. Italian, maybe? Pushing me into the chair, he frowns as he takes in my nakedness and shoves a robe in my direction.

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