Chapter 9 Kaylor
KAYLOR
The last dying rays of sunlight filtered through the cracks from the boarded window, painting the walls in thin strips of amber and rust. I’d been watching those shadows creep across the floor for hours, marking time like a countdown to the end of my life.
That’s what it felt like; I was waiting for my doom.
When the light finally faded to nothing, leaving only the soft twinkling of starlight, I knew my time was up.
The door to my room went through its usual series of clicks before groaning open, and my already racing heart sped up, feeling as if it was about to leap out of my chest. Two guards entered first, hulking shadows absorbing what little light remained in the space.
The first one had shoulders broad enough to block out a doorway.
His partner was lean but no less intimidating with biceps straining against his black shirt.
Behind them, Silvia swept in, making a dramatic entrance as if she were at some high-society gala, and I’d been to a few galas growing up.
She missed the mark. It was evident she was trying too damn hard to be someone she wasn’t.
Every inch of her was polished and perfect, her sleek raven hair twisted into an elegant chignon and her blood-red lips curved in that predatory smile I’d come to despise.
She wore a charcoal-gray pantsuit and twinkling diamond earrings.
“Time to shine, darling,” she said smoothly, snapping her manicured fingers once.
The guards moved to do her bidding, their massive hands clamping down on my arms like steel manacles.
They untied my restraints, hauling me off the bed without giving me a chance to gain my bearings.
Everything fucking hurt from being in the same position for hours.
My legs were tingling and numb and buckled under me, but the guards, like pillars at my side, kept me from crumbling to the floor.
“Let’s get you cleaned up. Take her into the bathroom,” she instructed.
I had a sick feeling they weren’t going to let me shower in peace, and I desperately wanted to bathe but not with an audience. That dreaded feeling turned into reality as Silvia started to undress me while the two guards held me upright.
Without thinking, I smacked her hand away. Hard. I didn’t want her to touch me, and I sure as hell didn’t want her to take my clothes off even if they were grimy.
Her gasp echoed off the tiles, and before I could brace myself, her palm cracked across my cheek.
The sting burned, my head flying sideways.
Heat flooded my skin, my cheeks flaring red, not from the slap but from the humiliation.
My throat ached with the urge to fight back, but I bit it down, swallowing the fury, forcing stillness.
Save your strength. Save it for when it matters.
Silvia cocked a brow at me. “Resisting only makes you look weak.” She yanked the shirt from my shoulders, tearing it over my head.
The pants were next until I had not a stitch of clothing left.
This was part of their roadmap to obedience, stripping us down, treating us less than human.
Fuck her. Fuck Rusty. Fuck this whole place.
They won’t break me. I lifted my chin right before she shoved me into the steaming shower, the spray hitting me like needles.
Exposed and vulnerable, I let her scrub me raw, my body trembling with anger instead of fear.
By the time they dragged me back to my room, my skin was pink and my wet hair plastered to my face.
Silvia rolled a plush sherpa chair to the center of the room, and her cronies dropped me into it.
They positioned a vanity in front of me.
A rolling cart clattered across the floor, its surface stacked with rows of brushes sorted by size and purpose, palettes of foundation in every conceivable shade, tubes of lipstick, eyeshadows, powders, and concealers.
An entire arsenal designed to transform me into someone else’s fantasy.
Tools of disguise. Tools of deception. Tools to erase the last traces of who I really was.
I wouldn’t make it easy for them.
The drying process of my hair took three times as long as it should have, but whatever I could do to stall what came next, I was going to take it.
Silvia looked upon with a deep frown, a knowing glint in her irate eyes.
I wasn’t the first difficult girl she had to deal with, that much was clear, but I didn’t give a shit how many times her hand cracked the side of my cheek.
I’d take the pain now to avoid a lifetime of agony.
When the first assistant, a mousy brunette with nervous hands, reached for my hair with a curling iron, I jerked my head violently to the side. The heated barrel missed my ear by inches, and I felt a savage satisfaction when she jumped back with a startled yelp.
“Careful with that,” Silvia warned with an edge, but she was watching me, not her assistant.
The second assistant, a tall redhead with cold eyes, knelt to fit a heel on my foot. My leg shot out, my sole connecting with her shoulder. She fell backward into the cart. “Goddamn it,” the redhead hissed, pushing herself up as she shot daggers at me.
When a third woman tried to force a tube of frosted pink lipstick against my mouth, I snapped at her finger, and she shrieked, jerking her hand back so fast she knocked over a bottle of foundation.
“Stop being a brat,” Silvia hissed, taking my chin into her piercing grasp.
I met her gaze, letting her see every ounce of hatred burning in my eyes. “Go to hell.”
Silvia scarily smiled back at me, but nothing about her features was friendly. Her eyes narrowed to cold slits. “Hold her,” she ordered.
The first guard positioned himself behind my chair, his enormous hands settling on my shoulders.
The second guard dropped to one knee beside me, his fingers wrapping around my wrists and pinning them to the chair’s armrests.
When I tried to kick, he simply shifted, trapping my legs between his knees.
I thrashed against their grip, but they were immovable as mountains. All I managed to do was waste my energy. “Let me fucking go!” I cried. “Please, just let me—”
Silvia reached into a drawer on the rolling cart, and when I saw the glint of the syringe in her fingers, my stomach plunged.
“No—don’t—” I fought harder now, desperate to stay awake, to stay lucid. The guards’ grips tightened, fingers digging into my flesh. “Please, I’ll cooperate, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t—” But it didn’t matter. My pleas fell on deaf ears.
Silvia flicked the syringe twice, sending a small spray of liquid into the air, then grabbed my upper arm with her free hand.
Her nails, painted the same blood red as her lips, bit into my skin as she held me steady.
The needle slid into the meat of my biceps, and with a burn, the substance spread through my veins.
Within minutes, the harsh edges of the room began to soften and blur.
My limbs grew sluggish and heavy as a warmth spanned from head to toe.
They needed me awake for the big event, so it wasn’t enough to knock me unconscious, but it was enough to dull my ability to fight back, to think with a clear head, slowing my thoughts and movements.
“Better,” Silvia purred, her lips curling into a cruel smile. She smoothed a hand over my hair with the same tenderness someone might show a beloved pet, her fingers gentle against my scalp. “Now sit still, darling. We have work to do.”
I tried to hold on to the anger, tried to keep the fire alive in my chest, but my body wasn’t listening anymore.
The drug had built a wall between my mind and my muscles, leaving me trapped inside my own skin.
All I could do was blink slowly and watch in the mirror as they began to paint my face into a stranger’s.
The foundation went on first, thick and heavy, erasing every freckle and imperfection until my skin was flawless.
Then came the concealer under my eyes, hiding the dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights and constant fear.
Powder to set it all, applied with brushes so soft they felt like whispers against my cheek.
The eyeshadow was smoky and dramatic, deep purples and blacks making my light-blue eyes look enormous and mysterious. They lined them with kohl, thick and dark, adding false lashes. My eyebrows were plucked and shaped until they arched in perfect symmetry.
The lipstick came last in the color of wine. Of dried blood.
By the time they finished, I no longer belonged to myself. Someone would own me. And by morning, I could be in another state, another country, another kind of hell entirely.
The thought broke something inside me, and tears slipped free despite the hazy feeling of floating. They ran down my cheeks in hot, salty tracks, carrying streaks of mascara with them, black rivers of despair.
“Tsk, tsk.” Silvia clicked her tongue in disapproval, reaching for a cloth from the vanity. “Don’t ruin what we worked so hard for, darling. Buyers don’t like sloppy sluts.”
“Stop,” I whispered, but the word came out slurred and weak.
But she didn’t stop. None of them did.
If Kreed was going to save me, he needed to do it soon. With this drug flowing through my veins, turning my body into a prison I couldn’t escape, I wouldn’t be able to save myself.
The clock on the wall ticked steadily toward midnight, each second bringing me closer to a fate I couldn’t bear to imagine. And I was terrified that when those hands finally aligned at twelve, the glass slipper would shatter, and I’d be lost forever.
Lost to a world where girls like me disappeared without a trace, where our screams were swallowed by soundproof rooms and our tears were nothing more than an inconvenience to be wiped away.