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Freja’s grip tightens around me. “Maybe.”
She sniffles, and it breaks my heart. We’re both fooling ourselves with these maybes. We were raised in the Mafia, which means we know our odds aren’t looking good.
I say, “I think I’m going to take a nap. Keep my strength up.”
Claudius Irons’ face crosses my mind and I shiver. There’s not enough strength in the world to protect me from that monster.
* * *
The next two days drag by. It’s torturous knowing what’s coming. I almost wish Madame Gothel had just said the auction was that day, so I didn’t have to sit down here in the dark, running through every scenario known to man. And, god, do they get worse with each moment that passes. By the time the light turns on and the door above us opens, I’ve decided I’m going to die a terrible death. It will be long and drawn out. I just pray they never find out about the baby, because if they do, then there’s no telling what will happen.
Madame Gothel makes her way down the stairs, clearing her throat. “Good morning to all my pretty girls. This is a big day for each of you. Today, you will meet your new owner. For some of you, that will mean a lifetime of service. For others, that will mean something else entirely.”
Her gaze licks my skin and I fight shivering. Ahead, I see a woman pull the nine-year-old to her side, as if she can protect her. My eyes water and my throat burns. How can this be happening to us? No one deserves this!
Madame Gothel says, “You will be brought up in groups of five where you will shower and dress. Do not think of running. You won’t get far, and I’ll make sure you’re patched up enough to still be sold.”
Someone whimpers at that, as if they were thinking of running.
Madame Gothel claps her hands together. “Chin up, ladies. This will only be as bad as you make it.”
We watch in horror as five women are pointed to and then follow her up the stairs.
Freja wipes at her eyes. “I’m scared, Anna.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m going to die, and Mom will never know that I didn’t hate her.”
I hold her, trying to comfort her the best I can. “Aunt Ayra knows you love her, Freja.”
“She doesn’t,” she sobs. “God, maybe I deserve this.”
“You don’t. None of us do.”
I hold her, wondering why I haven’t had the same kind of realization about my own mother. Does that mean I truly hate her? Does that mean I deserve this? I don’t get to ponder long because Madame Gothel returns, picking five more people. Freja and I are in the group. We stand, following the others up the stairs.
The kitchen has been transformed into a makeshift bathroom. Several women who look dead in the eyes stand next to five old-fashioned wooden tubs. We’re instructed to undress and stand in the tubs. Water is poured over us. I shiver as more is dumped over my head. The women use wash cloths to scrub the grime from our skin. They lather our hair with the same soap, dumping more cold water over us. By the time we’re told to step out of the tub, I’m thankful.
We’re not offered a towel. Only a white nightgown that barely goes past my knees. It sticks to my wet skin when I slip it on. Freja turns to me, and I cringe. Her breasts and pubic area can clearly be seen, which means mine can, too. We’re told to walk to the next room where the first five women stand. One of them is silently sobbing as her group tries to comfort her.
Freja says in a low tone, “I don’t know why they even bother with these gowns. They’re so thin that you could see through them even if we weren’t wet.”
Madame Gothel says from behind us, “We bother with the gowns because these men expect a fantasy of sorts. So, I give it to them.” She circles Freja. “Young. Virginal. With a hint of something else.”
She’s looking at Freja’s pierced nipples. Freja covers herself, making Madame Gothel smile before leaving.
“What a psychopath.”
I nod my head in agreement.
Several hours later, everyone that was in the basement has been washed and forced to change, and we’re led outside. I’m surprised that it’s night. For some reason it felt like it was still daytime. Several vans wait and we’re ordered in. Madame Gothel makes sure that Freja is sent to a different van, smiling at me.
I grit my teeth when she climbs into the front passenger seat of the van I’m in.
“Settle in, ladies. We have a bit of a drive.”
Several hours later, we arrive in front of a large warehouse. The doors open and the vans drive right inside where we’re let out. I look around. It’s not just a warehouse on the inside, though. There’s a large stage in the center of the room. Tables are set out, reminding me of the VIP section of a club. There are also rooms on the second floor that overlook the stage. I swallow the bile creeping up my throat. Oh my god. This is really happening.
