Chapter 9
nine
The Merciless
“I have a confession,” I say, sliding onto the edge of the exam table in Dr. Augustine’s office. My heart squeezes at the memory of all those days in the confessional, telling my deepest shames and sins to Father Salvatore. Will I ever see him again?
I have to. I won’t entertain another possibility. I will get out of here, will find my way back to him. To all of them.
“Do you?” Dr. Augustine asks, raising a brow and glancing at Miss Sarah, who brought me in at last. It was harder to get infractions than I expected, but I asked around for Eternity every time we got in line to go anywhere, and eventually, she caught me one too many times during our silent marches from one part of the asylum to another.
Miss Sarah makes a face to show her disgust with me, then steps out of the room and closes the door.
“That happens to some of the patients,” Dr. Augustine says. “Though I admit, it usually takes a bit longer. Just lie back and I’ll take care of it for you.”
“I just wanted to talk to you,” I say, frowning at him.
“I’m sure you do,” he says. “But I’m not a therapist. So if you don’t have the need for a doctor, I’m not sure why you’re here.”
“Because I wanted to talk to you,” I say again.
“You can talk while I do your exam,” he says. “Otherwise, ask one of the staff for an appointment with our psychologist.”
“Fine,” I say, laying back on the table and placing my feet in the stirrups. “Though I’m not sure what you think will have changed in the past week.”
“It seems your compliance has,” he says, sliding a finger into me.
I grit my teeth and bear it, vowing that Eternity won’t be the only one I avenge.
“Did you have a patient here named Eternity?” I ask.
“I don’t recall,” he says, working another finger into me.
“Now just relax, very good. From now on, when you need this kind of stimulation, there are others better suited for the task. You haven’t had a visitor yet, but we have a group coming tomorrow.
I’m sure you’ll be quite popular with them.
Maybe even the first choice from among your peers. ”
A visitor.
He acts as if my parents might just stop by for a family therapy session, and not that he’s selling the girls here to whatever men are coming. Like being chosen is an honor that I’d compete with the other girls to earn.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” I say, staring at the ceiling and trying not to feel anything below the waist. Luckily I’m very good at compartmentalizing.
“Not to worry,” he says. “This should help you be less nervous when they arrive.”
“Okay, but what if we spiced things up?”
His fingers go still, and I fight not to cringe at the sensation of them lying inside me like a dead thing. “What?”
“I’m sure your business is booming,” I say. “I mean, one of the Sincero boys said as much. That we’re worth more than diamonds. That’s a lot. So I’d guess you’re doing pretty well for yourself. You seem to own an island and everyone on it. That’s a lot of diamonds.”
He withdraws his fingers. “What are you suggesting?”
“I was just thinking,” I say, pushing up on my elbows. “I mean, I’ve only been here a week. I obviously don’t know everything that goes on. But what if we made things a little more interesting for the guys who come to… Visit.”
He stares at me like I’ve grown a set of tentacles. “More interesting?” he asks warily.
“Yeah,” I say. “What if they had to work for it?”
“They don’t come here to work,” he says, turning to wash his hands in the sink. “They come to relax and spend the hard-earned money they already made by working elsewhere.”
“Okay, but you have to admit, men do like a challenge,” I say. “What if you could make it an event. Not just a bunch of visitors browsing girls like we’re puppies at a pet store. What if they got to hunt?”
“Ah,” he says. “Yes, we do that for a select few on occasion. But most of them don’t want to run all over an island in the middle of the night and risk not even capturing their reward at the end. That’s so much work when, like I said, they just want to relieve their tension.”
“Oh,” I say, momentarily taken aback. But I won’t be deterred that easily.
“Anything else?” he asks, arching that infuriating brow. “I assume you’re an excellent runner. Or perhaps just good at hiding?”
I remember pushing myself onto that ledge on HAVOC night, hiding from the boys all those months ago. Now I’d do anything to help them find me.
“Okay, even better,” I say brightly. “Then this won’t be a completely foreign concept. People don’t like too much change, do they? But what if we could make it a little more interesting for everyone. What if we could make it a spectacle?”
“A spectacle?” he asks, giving me a skeptical look. “You want to be watched?”
My heart skips a beat as I think of all the nights in the Slaughterpen, the cheers feeding me like oxygen; of the day in the library when Angel fingered me in front of Father Salvatore. I shiver and sit up.
“It won’t be for every man,” I say. “But maybe that makes it all the more special. And instead of running around on an entire island, in the dark where no one can watch, we do it inside. One room. One man. One girl.”
“I take it you’re that girl?”
“Yes,” I say, lifting my chin. “You admitted yourself that I’m special simply because no one has had me yet.
I’m assuming you have repeat customers. But none have gotten a chance with me.
Maybe we make it more interesting by giving them a challenge.
Not all the guys. Not all the girls. Just any guy who wants one certain girl. ”
“Uh huh,” he says.
He’s listening, which is all I wanted. But he’s also interested, which is what I hoped for.
“You know my proposal is good,” I say, pressing my luck.
“It might even bring new clients, ones who have already had a go at all the girls here they wanted. They might fight for a chance at a new one. And instead of just giving it to them, you can dangle it just at the tip of their fingers. Maybe they can get it. Maybe they can’t. ”
“Men don’t come here to be told they can’t have a girl they want,” he says. “That’s what they encounter every day on the mainland.”
“But it’s the gamble that will keep them coming back.”
“So you propose that they fight for you?” he asks. “And everyone watches?”
“Not fight for me,” I say. “They fight me. No weapons. No timeouts. Just good old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat.”
I expect him to laugh, but he only nods. “Julian did say you put up quite a fight on the docks. Good thing our pickup guy was there with his tranquilizer darts. You never know when those will come in handy.”
He chuckles, and the seed of hatred inside me swells, watered by his utter callousness.
“You could even charge them extra,” I say. “Not to mention what the spectators would pay to see it happen.”
“They have sex clubs for that,” he says. “And the internet.”
“Yes, but sex clubs are scripted, planned, and agreed to,” I say. “How often do they get to see a show like this? One man catching and overpowering a girl in a room with no escape, in real time, right in front of their eyes.”
“You do know that sort of thing won’t appeal to the average man who wants to hear how good he is, hear a woman enjoying herself.”
“Not every man wants that,” I say, remembering Saint’s words to me that last night in Faulkner, how cruel he was, how much he enjoyed my humiliation and heartbreak.
“And you’re willing to put yourself in a room with a man like that,” he says. “A man who doesn’t want your consent, who wants to force you, maybe to hear you scream in pain rather than pleasure?”
“Make no mistake,” I say, staring directly into his eyes. “I didn’t come here willingly, and nothing I do for you is done willingly. I just thought you might like to liven things up for your clients.”
“What’s in it for you?” he asks, studying me from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. I want to use the lenses to scoop his eyes out so I can gouge my fingers into his sick and twisted brain, scramble it until he can’t even twitch, let alone shove his fingers inside me or any other girl.
Instead, I give him my most beguiling smile. “Girls like a challenge too.”