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“That’ll be all,” he waves to the guard, not even looking up in his direction. In the mirror, I see the man frown but he does comply, leaving me alone with the funny little man. The stranger mutters to himself as he hovers around me, eyeing my face and lifting my hair.
“Hmmm, alright then,” he finally says, turning to a tray of powders. He turns back to me with a brush in hand and starts toward my face before I pull back slightly.
“Umm, who are you?” I ask, and the man raises his overly bushy eyebrows.
“Arturo,” he says simply. “Now shut up and let me do my job.”
I vaguely recall Angelo saying his brother wasn’t available before, so what is he here to prepare me for now? The question is on the tip of my tongue, but the scowl on Arturo’s face keeps me quiet.
Despite the situation, I find myself entranced as the man slowly paints my face and arranges my hair. I’ve only worked with a few professional makeup artists before, and it's quickly apparent that Arturo is a master at his craft. I wonder about these brothers, Angelo and Arturo.
My skin is turned flawless and smooth, a hint of colour on the apple of my cheeks and subtly applied shadows to make my cheekbones look higher. My lips are painted a perfect red. With my silver hair curled away from my face, it gives a sultry effect unlike anything I’ve ever seen on myself.
I wonder about these two talented brothers. Two masters at their crafts who are parties to such depravity. They must know what’s going on with the women they work with. Who are these Iron Elite members to have such a hold on so many?
When he’s finished, Arturo gives me a curt nod, and I think I actually see the corner of his lip turn up a touch as he inspects his final work.
“Perfect,” is all he says, before he hustles out of the room leaving me alone. I look at my face, the perfectly painted lips and eyes. My lashes are extended and sweep over my cheeks, the grey of my eyes brightened by the subtle liner.
Screwed up as it is, I feel beautiful.
I’m only alone for a minute before a man steps in the door Arturo just left through. He is dressed in the same standard ‘guard’ outfit the others I’ve seen wear, but this one has a scar on his lip that I think is from a hairlip. His expression seems softer than some of the others.
“Put this on,” he says, not meeting my eye as he holds out a small parcel. I glance at him once before taking it, untying the ribbon to reveal a sheer, white dress that looks like something between a nightgown and lingerie.
I’m surprised when the man turns away, and I quickly remove my robe and put the white thing up over my arms. I feel my cheeks flush as I catch sight of it and how sheer it really is. The fabric seems to cling to my skin and it leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. High slits up the sides reveal my legs when I move, and the straps drape off my shoulders. It would be elegant if it weren’t see-through and garish.
“Come on,” the man says, his voice just as gruff as the rest, though that hint of sympathy remains that I’m sure I’m just imagining.
I’m surprised my body doesn’t shake when I stand. I look at myself once more in the mirror and though I know underneath is a terrified little girl who is out of her element, the facade of confidence is well painted.
I’ve spent years acting and pretending to be someone else, and with my face painted it's somehow easier to calm myself, at least outwardly. Nerves and fear are something every actress learns to overcome. I can use every bit of confidence I can get, whether fake or not.
Whatever happens next, at least I look amazing.
* * *
I’m ledthrough a new hallway and toward a double door. I can’t hear anything from the other side, but somehow the energy behind that door terrifies me. In my mind, I envision claws and teeth, monsters tearing at me with multiple limbs. Their teeth biting into my legs, turning the sheer white fabric red with my pain.
There’s a small buzz from the man’s pocket, and he glances down at a phone.
“Not long now.”
It feels like no time has passed, yet at the same time, like it's been hours. The guard with the lip scar stands with me, but doesn’t even glance my way.
“Are they going to sell me?” I finally ask, slowly turning my head to the man. I’m once again amazed that my voice doesn’t shake. He stiffens slightly but turns a fraction toward me. I can practically feel the hesitation before he finally replies.
“Yes.”
I’ve fallen into a false sense of compliance the past days of routine, and despite Eli’s constant threats of selling me, I don’t think I ever really believed it until now.
I don’t ask anything else.
A few minutes later, his phone buzzes again, and he locks his eyes with me after glancing at his phone.
“It’s time.”
The doors open and a wave of black energy seems to wash over me along with the smell of smoke in the air. A short dark hall graces the front, and I can see bright lights and a hint of curtains. My eyes widen as I’m gently pushed forward.
