Chapter 4
A ngelina
Pulling my legs up to my chin, I hugged my knees as fatigue pulled at my body.
My thoughts turned again to Rada and where she was.
I’d called for her until my voice gave out, but I hadn’t heard any indication she was in one of the other rooms. I had no idea how long I’d been here, although I was sure it had been a few days at least. I had no phone, as we planned to get one when we arrived.
Food had been delivered while I was asleep, but the bread and water weren’t enough to stave off the hunger pains. The whole cell smelled, as I’d had no choice but to use the bucket in the corner. My crumpled outfit was stained, and my hands were sore from rapping on the door.
How did we get it all so wrong? My initial panic had given way to a bone-deep dread of what would come next.
We’d all heard stories of girls who had been taken, only to return years later, if at all, as shells of themselves.
Whispers of prostitution and slavery had seemed like bogeyman stories until they circled endlessly around my head as I stared at the concrete walls.
The thought had never occurred to us that this was anything other than a respectable firm.
The lock clicked, and the door opened. I rushed to my feet, but dizziness made me sway. Charlotte appeared dressed in a different pantsuit, looking just as well put together, and a jolt of loathing rolled through me.
“Come with me.” Charlotte wrinkled her nose.
“Where’s my sister?” I demanded.
She waved a hand, and two dark-haired, heavy-set men appeared, carrying guns.
I shrank back against my cot, bracing my arms against the thin mattress as my pulse raced.
“You can come with us quietly, or we can take you by force,” she said.
The larger man took a menacing step towards me, levelling his gun at my chest. What choice did I have?
I trembled, stumbling forward as Charlotte walked swiftly away.
One man fell into step behind me, and the cold barrel of the gun pressed into my back, causing the hair to rise on the back of my neck.
We walked through the warehouse but took the door on the left before the doctor’s office. Charlotte led me into a bare shower block. The tiles were yellowed with age, and four shower heads lined the far wall; the exposed pipework glinted in the light coming through the high, narrow windows.
“Get washed up and put on these clothes.” Charlotte gestured to a small pile of material next to a thin grey towel.
One of the men leered at me, licking his lips, and a shiver shot up my back.
“The Stefanovs won’t appreciate you sampling their product. Go and stand outside.” She barked at the guy, and he followed behind her with a lingering glance, closing the door.
Shaking like a leaf, I sank to my knees onto the cold tiled floor, a sob ripping from my throat. How did this happen? I didn’t want to undress with those men outside, but they had guns and I didn’t want them returning to force me.
Stumbling towards the showers, I snatched the towel and turned the spray on.
The freezing water forced a gasp that echoed around the empty space.
I darted my eyes to the door. The water wasn’t heating, but I raced to undress, dropping my clothes and towel on a raised ledge beside my chosen showerhead.
Cold water slammed onto my skin, and I gasped for breath. Panting, I forced my spine straight and grabbed a bar of soap. Lathering it quickly, I washed my body. Surprisingly, shampoo and conditioner containers were attached to the wall, and I used them quickly.
Shivering violently, I turned the water off and wrapped the towel around me. It turned out to be tiny and threadbare, so I used it to wipe off the water and held it in front of me. My teeth chattered as I held up the “clothes” Charlotte had indicated.
The material was a thin white slip and a white thong.
Fear closed over my throat as I imagined why I needed to put these on.
Voices outside the room forced me to pull the slip over my damp skin and yank on the underwear.
I pulled my shoes back on and wrapped my coat around me, goosebumps rising on my exposed legs.
There was no brush for my hair, so I finger-combed it roughly. I startled when the door opened and Charlotte returned.
“Lose the coat.” She clicked her fingers.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked as the two men reappeared in the doorway, guns drawn.
I peeled my coat off and crossed my arms tightly over my chest to hide the outline of my cold nipples through the fabric.
“Someone will do your hair. Follow me.” Charlotte swept out of the room, her heels clicking on the floor.
One guy slipped out of the room after her, but the second one remained, partially blocking the doorway, his eyes crawling all over me.
“Come on,” Charlotte shouted.
The guy smirked at me as I squeezed by him, trying not to brush against him. He smelled like tobacco and liquor. My heart raced painfully in my chest.
Shivering at the chill in the air and my wet hair, I followed Charlotte. We approached another door, and she turned to face me.
“This needs to stay on at all times.” She pulled out a large sticker and peeled the back off, pressing it roughly to my middle.
“What is it?” I glanced down, and the number read 873.
“Your number.”
“Where is my sister?” I asked, my voice catching.
“Just do as you’re told and we won’t have to hurt you or your sister,” she said, her face devoid of emotion.
She opened the door and roughly shoved me inside.
There were multiple women inside. A group of three huddled in the corner, and a few others were dotted around the room's edges. All of them looked incredibly young. Each wore a white slip like me and had a number on the front. One girl sat at a table strewn with make-up and brushes. My chest tightened as I realised Rada wasn’t here.
“Elena, hair, make-up,” Charlotte snapped, and a girl with dark hair sat at the table glanced our way.
Elena’s gaze raked over me, but her expression was blank. Burns covered part of her left arm, the skin looked almost melted, and her face was acne-scarred. She nodded to Charlotte, who disappeared out the door. The lock click echoed in the room, filled only with ragged breathing.
“ Ela tuk .” Elena gestured to the seat before her, telling me to come to her.
I shuffled over my eyes on the other women in the room who watched me with various expressions, but pity was the one I could pick out the easiest.
“What is happening here?” I asked Elena first in English, but then switched to Bulgarian when she didn’t answer.
“Auction,” she replied in English.
“Auction for what?”
“For you. You are being sold to men for pleasure, if they need. Maybe work, maybe both.” Her tone was expressionless as the bottom fell out of my stomach.
Despite worrying for days straight, I hadn’t quite believed what was happening even when I saw the guns.
“Have you seen my sister? Her name is Rada,” I asked, my heart in my throat.
Elena shook her head, and my scalp screamed as she began combing my hair.
“If she wasn’t pure, she wouldn’t have come to me for preparation.”
“Pure?”
“Untouched. A virgin.”
My skin prickled uncomfortably. Rada had a boyfriend while she was in the UK, so I imagine they’d had sex, but it wasn’t something we discussed.
She always acted like I was too young to know about those things.
Now I wished I’d agreed to trade my virginity for something practical when I had the chance, and we would still be together.
“Where will she have gone?”
“It depends. Does she look like you?” Elena’s dead eyes studied my features before returning to brush my hair.
“Yes.”
“A workhouse, then.”
“What’s a workhouse?”
“For prostitution. The pretty ones fetch a higher price. They send the ugly ones like me to do other work.”
I gaped at her, my stomach churning.
“Don’t worry; when your owner has had enough of you, they’ll sell you back, and you might see her again—unless they damage you.” She gestured at her burns.
The bile rushed up my throat so fast I only had time to turn my head as I vomited onto the floor.
Panting, I wiped my mouth. “We have to get out of here.”
Elena barked a humourless laugh. “How? Where would you go if you got away from all the guns?”
“Anywhere.”
“Your sister would pay for that.”
“What do you mean?”
“They would hurt her. Not enough to prevent her from working, but they’d take it out on her.”
My heart thudded violently in my chest. That was what Charlotte had said.
“Just let me work. Be quiet and do as you’re told. You might get lucky and get an old man whose dick doesn’t work.”
I shrank into my seat. That didn’t sound lucky.
Numbness filled me as she painted my face with make-up and plaited my long hair into a double braid.
One of the girls behind me was mumbling in what sounded like Russian, so I assumed not everyone here was from Bulgaria.
My head buzzed with white noise, and I understood why they huddled around the edge of the room, cowering and casting each other pitying looks.
Elena dismissed me, and my face itched with the unfamiliar weight of cosmetics.
I moved to stand by the wall, my thoughts disconnected from reality. Soft weeping drew my eyes to a girl who looked much younger than me.
“Stop crying, you’ll ruin your make-up and they’ll blame me,” Elena barked, walking over and throwing some tissues at the girl.
Her breathing hitched, and her tears pulled at something inside me.
“Let me help,” I said softly in English, not knowing if she spoke Bulgarian.
I moved closer and picked up one of the tissues as the girl watched me with wide eyes. I wiped away the black rivers of mascara on her cheeks.
“I’m Angelina,” I said, but she just stared at me.
I held up a tissue and mimed blowing my nose.
She took it from me and wiped her nose. I wanted to tell her things would be okay, but that was a lie.
I was scared out of my mind, and my stomach churned thinking about Rada.
Wordlessly, the girl took my hand, and that’s how we stayed for the next few hours, stewing in our dread, holding hands in a cold room.
The door opened, and everyone tensed. Three men with guns entered and barked at Elena to get out. She left with her head down without a backwards glance. The girl next to me squeezed my hand tightly.
They spoke to us in Bulgarian, telling us to follow them. It made me sick that people from our own country were doing this to us. We followed them out into the corridor, and the girl dropped my hand to hug herself tightly. She shuffled behind me, her breath coming fast and harsh.
Further along the corridor, the men paused at a corner, causing the two women ahead of me to stop.
An angry, unseen male voice shouted at them to get moving.
They forced us to walk on the right side of the corridor and told us to keep our eyes down.
In the new corridor, we reached two sets of shoes on the left, and I wasn’t sure what made me look up at the two men there.
One was short and wide with a mop of greasy black hair, while the other was the most striking man I’d ever seen.
My breath caught. He was tall, with dark hair and a closely-cropped beard.
His expensive suit was equally dark and tailored.
Our eyes locked, and a jolt surged through my system at the intensity behind his pale eyes.
I stumbled, and his hand shot out, stabilising me.
His touch burned my arm like a brand. He was so handsome.
I went to say thank you until my brain caught up with me, and I realised that he was part of this.
Tugging my arm away, I dropped my eyes and continued walking with the other woman, but I could have sworn I felt the dark-haired devil's gaze on my back.
Shaking off the sensation, I reminded myself he was a bad man, just one in a pretty package.