Chapter 3
KAYLOR
Imust have passed out on the bathroom floor.
One minute, I’d been curled near the toilet, knees drawn to my chest, clutching my ribs. The next…I was waking up to darkness, my cheek pressing against cold tile. My body was stiff and aching, muscles screaming in protest when I tried to move.
For a second, I didn’t know where I was. The disorientation had my mind floating somewhere between consciousness and dreams. Through the haze, I swore I heard a voice, but as I listened, my memories unfortunately returned.
A cold wave of dread washed over me, raising goose bumps along my arms.
I pushed myself up, muscles shaking with the effort.
My palms slipped slightly on the tile. I blinked away the fuzziness clouding my vision, trying to force my eyes to adjust. The only light came from the sliver beneath the bathroom door.
I was about to crawl back toward the bed when I heard the whisper again, clearer this time.
“Hello? Are you awake?”
I froze, every muscle locking into place. So the voice hadn’t been in my head. It wasn’t some fever dream or hallucination born from stress and fear. It wasn’t coming from the hallway or through the door.
It was coming from the bathroom vent.
I turned slowly, my eyes narrowing as they focused on the grate above the toilet. “H-hello?” I whispered back, carefully sliding onto the closed toilet lid to get closer.
“Oh, thank God,” the girl said, relief flooding her words. “You’re awake. I was afraid you might be…hurt.”
My stomach twisted into knots. “Who are you?” I asked softly.
A long pause stretched until I thought she wouldn’t answer, and I couldn’t blame her. I was just as leery of her.
“My name is Crystal,” she finally answered.
My breath caught in my throat, lodging there like a stone.
Crystal Martin?
The latest missing girl. Well, not counting Kenny. I’d seen her face plastered across the news and social media for days.
I grabbed the edge of the vent with both hands, fingers curling around the cool metal slats. “Crystal,” I repeated. “I’ve seen you on the news.”
A small sigh came through the vent. “So they haven’t stopped looking for me?”
My eyes stung, pressure building behind them.
Tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them back hard.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was old news and most news outlets were no longer reporting on her disappearance.
They’d moved on as the days had dragged into weeks.
“No. They haven’t.” I wanted to give her hope because I needed it as much as she did.
Another shaky breath filtered through the vent. “How long have you been here?” she asked.
“A day,” I replied, trying to calculate through the fog in my mind. “Maybe two. I’m not sure. Everything’s…blurred.”
“That’s normal,” she murmured. “It happens to all of us. We lose all concept of time.”
I didn’t want this to become my normal.
“Where is here?” I pressed, desperate for information, anything that might be useful. “What is this place?”
“I don’t know where we are. They drugged me when I was taken, and I woke up somewhere else before they moved me here.”
“How many are there?”
“Including you, five, I think,” she said. “There was a girl before you. We used to talk at night. It’s safer when it’s late. Sometimes I could hear her scream. Until one day, she just stopped.”
Kenny. She wouldn’t be coming back.
“There’s been a lot of buzz about you since you arrived. Everyone knows your name.”
Wonderful. I’d always wanted to be popular, just not like this. “Why are you still here? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you are. I’m just wondering why you haven’t been auctioned off yet?”
“I didn’t have any interested buyers.”
That was a good thing, right? Then I thought about it. “What happens if you don’t get…picked?” I decided on picked because the thought of humans being sold was a concept I didn’t want to voice out loud, regardless of how real it might be.
“They find another use for you until you don’t have a use anymore.”
I cursed under my breath. “I can’t stay here. Do you know a way out?”
“There’s only one way in or out, and it’s guarded twenty-four seven.
Three shifts, four guards each. Silvia keeps us locked up tight until showtime,” Crystal informed.
“Your best chance to escape is after you’re sold.
During transport. Before they get you wherever you’re going. At least, that’s my plan.”
I exhaled bitterly, tasting copper and fear on my tongue. “Fuck that,” I hissed. “I’m not waiting around to be gift wrapped for some perverted psychopath with more money than morals. Do any of the rooms have phones?”
“No. We’re not allowed contact with the outside world, but…”
“But what?” I prompted.
“The guards have radios and phones. They’re always on them. They take shifts monitoring us through cameras.”
Crap, for a minute, I’d forgotten I was being monitored.
My chest tightened, ribs constricting around my lungs. I pressed my palm on the side of the sink counter to steady myself, and my fingers snagged on something. A rough edge. I frowned and leaned closer, squinting through the darkness as my fingers traced the lines. Not lines.
Nail marks.
Several of them. Deep gouges carved into the wood. Desperate. Someone had clawed their fingers into the varnish until they broke through, leaving raw wounds in the surface. The scratches were frantic, overlapping, the work of hours or days.
Someone whose hand wasn’t much bigger than mine.
I pressed my fingers into them, tracing the shape of each mark.
The wood was rough under my fingertips, splinters catching on my skin.
I imagined the terror it took to try to dig your way through a solid piece of furniture.
The pain. The hopelessness that still didn’t stop you from trying.
Or had she been sitting here in sheer boredom, trying not to lose her mind?
“Hello? Are you still there?” Crystal whispered.
Swallowing, I replied, “I am.” Un-fucking-fortunately.
“I heard you crying earlier. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“Nothing that won’t heal.” And I couldn’t stop my mind from wondering if any of the girls who stayed before me hadn’t made it to the auction. Had any of them died here?
My heart cracked open, fissures spreading through my chest. “I’m going to get out of here,” I murmured before I could think better of it. The vow was more of a promise to myself.
“You can’t.” A terrible, long sigh breezed through the vent. “There are only two ways out of this place. You get bought or they bury you with the others.”
Her words verified the worst, what I already knew. Not every girl makes it out of this house alive.
I stared at the cabinet, at the violent proof of another girl’s terror, evidence of suffering, and my throat burned hot, fear rising like bile.
Because if I didn’t get out…
If I didn't find a way, then I’d end up leaving nail marks of my own.
And eventually, I’d stop screaming too.
The clicking of heels came first, sharp strikes against hardwood, announcing her presence like a countdown to execution.
I sat on the edge of the bed, legs curled beneath me, my fingernails digging crescents into my palms as I listened to each step grow closer, silently praying she would pick another room and hating myself for wishing it.
My spine went rigid, shoulders drawing up toward my ears as the door handle turned.
Just my fucking luck.
Silvia stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind her with a quiet thud. She wasn’t making the same mistake twice by leaving it slightly cracked now that she knew she couldn’t trust me. The feeling was mutual.
Gone was the breakfast carnage from yesterday.
She’d shed the stained silk and now wore a crisp ivory blouse.
The fabric was expensive. I could tell by how it moved with her, never wrinkling, never betraying a single crease.
Her tailored slacks hugged her legs, and her raven hair had been scraped back into a bun so severe it pulled the skin tight around her temples.
She looked like a villain from an old noir film, all sharp angles and cold beauty.
Behind her, she pushed a rolling rack, its wheels squeaking softly with each rotation. Dresses swayed on black velvet hangers, and a full-length mirror caught fragments of light as she maneuvered it deeper into the room.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” The words slid from her crimson lips without a trace of warmth. Her gaze swept over me. “Stand up.”
My muscles tensed, rebellion flaring hot in my chest, but I forced myself upright anyway.
Not because I wanted to. God, every fiber of my being screamed against obeying her, but because the memory of yesterday’s heel-to-gut encounter still throbbed beneath my ribs, I did what I was told.
Each breath pulled sharp and shallow, and I needed to stay coherent. Playing smart, not broken.
Silvia’s pointed fingernails danced over the garments, fabric rustling as she pushed hangers aside.
She paused at a black dress, her lips curving into what might have been approval on anyone else’s face.
She pulled the slinky thing free from the hanger.
It looked more like expensive lingerie than anything I’d be caught dead wearing, all mesh panels and strategic cutouts designed to reveal more than they concealed.
“This one’s a contender,” she cheerfully said, holding it up against my frame as she turned her head to the side. The fabric swayed between us, casting shadows across my face. “Try this one on.”
What I wanted to do was throw it at her face or shred it to bits, but I reluctantly took the dress and lumbered toward the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
I halted in my tracks at Silvia’s voice and slowly faced her. “To change.”
“Here is fine,” she stated crisply. “There’s no need for modesty among friends.”
Friends, my ass.
I turned my back to her, my fingers trembling as I peeled away the plain cotton shirt they’d given me.
The fabric stuck slightly to my skin where dried sweat had made it cling.
In the mirror’s reflection, I caught sight of what they’d done to me; bruises had bloomed across my torso.
Ugly, mottled splotches painted my ribs and stomach in shades of purple and black, already beginning their slow transformation to that sickly yellow-green.
Another mark peeked out from beneath my collarbone, a perfect thumbprint.
I quickly slithered the dress over my head. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain radiating from my injuries, my muscles protesting as I raised my arms. The fabric clung in ways that made me feel so damn uncomfortable.
When I turned back, Silvia’s eyebrow arched, her gaze traveling the length of my body. “You’ll need makeup, and we’ll fix this hair,” she said as if she were some kind of personal stylist prepping me for a fashion show. “No one likes damaged goods. Especially not at your price point.”
The words hit like individual slaps, but I swallowed the retort building in my throat. Instead, I stood there with my hands hanging at my sides, focusing on the anger burning in my gut. “How do you know what I’m worth?”
A slight smirk spread across her lips. “It’s my job to know.” A glint passed into her eyes as they roamed over me, dissecting me. “Face symmetry. Eye color. Bone structure. Rarity factors. You’ll fetch a pretty penny, no question.”
And how much of that would be her cut? It wasn’t like she tended to kidnappees for free.
Silvia moved closer, and her fingers were surprisingly warm as they adjusted the dress straps. When she brushed against one of my bruises, I flinched. She tsked. “We’ll cover those. You’ll look good as new. Angelic.”
Turning me toward the mirror, Silvia stood behind me, fingers pressing into my bare shoulders. I stared at my reflection, the girl looking back a stranger with her skin pale and wide eyes. She looked hollowed out. Empty. A beautiful shell with nothing living inside.
Silvia moved to the rack again, selecting a pale lilac gown. She held it up, studying the fabric against my skin. “This one will do nicely as well,” she murmured. “Brings out that unique color in your eyes. Quite striking, really.”
I was all too happy to get this black thing off my body, not that the lilac was any better. Before I could react or even think to move, she’d raised her phone and captured me with a flash that left spots dancing in my vision.
My carefully constructed facade cracked. “What the hell was that for? Why did you take my picture?”
She looked entirely unfazed by my outburst, her expression as calm as still water. “Approval,” she replied, her thumb already swiping across her phone screen. “Before you’re presented on Friday night, there needs to be agreement from all parties involved. Quality assurance, you could say.”
Approval? Presented?
The words repeated in my skull. The buyers were already preapproved with private lists and hidden bids. I wasn’t a new product; I was a last-minute luxury upgrade.
Like a robot, I changed into the next dress, and she repeated the process, snapping a pic of me.
After four or five wardrobe changes, Silvia began packing up her mobile boutique, each dress returning to its proper place on the rack.
When she reached the door, she paused in the frame, her silhouette backlit by the hallway light.
“Someone will be up with dinner. I suggest you actually eat this time instead of letting it go to waste. Especially since you skipped breakfast and lunch.”
Skipped?
As if they hadn’t withheld food as punishment. As if starvation had been my fucking choice rather than their cruelty.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone with my outrage.
I stood there in the growing shadows, my stomach cramping with hunger, and my ribs aching with each breath, but she was right about one thing, the cold bitch.
If I was going to survive this, if I was going to claw my way out of whatever hell they’d dragged me into, I needed to keep up my strength.
No matter how much the thought of food turned my stomach, no matter how much my body wanted to reject everything they offered, I couldn’t afford to be weak.