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Then, slowly, a woman appears in the doorway.
She is wearing a purple dress that is tight, but still fails to hug her frail body. She looks like she hasn’t had a proper meal in months. Her cheeks are hollowed and dark circles that makeup could never hide hang heavily under her eyes.
With slow, shaky steps, she walks through the door and across the fireplace to stand a few feet from Edgar. I can see her hands are trembling, and her eyes dart around the room like a nervous mouse.
The room draws in a low hiss of distaste. The woman is not quite repulsive, but she’s far from the desirable jewel we’ve been primed to expect. Our eyes slide back to the door from which she entered, waiting for the next with bated breath.
A moment later, another woman appears.
This one is better. Healthier, fitter, though still not worth parting with any significant sums. She steps forward cautiously and takes her place next to the first.
Following the first two, the rest of the women file through the door one by one. Each time a woman steps from the shadows into the lounge, my heart clenches.
Is this one Eve?
Is she even here?
Have I wasted my time?
As one turns to five and then ten, the women become more attractive. Starting with Number Eleven, the women are all dressed in red. Their hair is shiny and healthy, their skin is smooth and radiant. They look like models more than slaves. Terrified models, of course, but beautiful. It is clear the Cartel are saving the best for last.
Number Thirteen walks out—a tall, strong woman with dark brown skin and curly black hair—and she isn’t as afraid as the other women. She smiles at the group of men and women waiting for her, even winking towards Fox-Face. I consider myself adept at reading people, but whether her act is a façade or not, I can’t tell.
I look at the bidding board and realize there is only one woman left. One more chance for it to be Eve. For me to be in the right place.
I bounce back and forth between wanting it to be her and hoping she is far away from this depravity.
On the one hand, it would be good to see her. To see that she is alive, at least.
On the other, I don’t want to see her treated as cattle. I don’t want to spend the next five days bidding on the woman I love, playing a dangerous game that might get us both killed.
I hold my breath as a shadow separates from the dark room and steps towards the middle.
When the fire’s light hits her face, my heart breaks.
It is my wife.
At once, I’m consumed with relief and guilt and the desire to grab her and run and the knowledge that I can’t do that without getting us both killed.
I stifle a moan, but luckily it is lost in the stir as Eve walks out.
She is easily the most beautiful woman in the room. And I know it is not only I who think so. Several men in the room sit forward and crane their necks to see. I want to snap each one of them in half.
She doesn’t look scared, but she doesn’t openly flirt with anyone in the room the way the woman before her did. Eve walks out with her chin held high, her chestnut hair falling in thick waves down her back, and plants her feet firmly on the floor. She doesn’t shy away from facing the crowd in front of her.
And her gaze is devastating.
There is fire in her eyes. Anger and a promise. A promise that she won’t let anyone here forget what they did to her.
She meets every set of eyes, and when our eyes meet, it is all I can do to not rip off my mask and run to her.
For a moment, I wonder whether she’ll recognize me. Whether she’ll be able to tell it is me based on my eyes and mouth alone, but I am farther away than the other guests, and her eyes fall on me only for a minute before flitting away.
“Okay,” Edgar says, stepping forward and clapping his hands. “Everyone is free to mingle. Have a drink, talk to one another and the women. And don’t forget, if anyone catches your eye, be sure to put in a bid.”
For a moment, it is like a middle school dance. The women on display and the guests not moving. We just stare at one another uncomfortably, waiting for someone else to make the first move.
I would, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself or my obvious preference for Eve.
