SEVENTY
Gigi
When I wake up discomfort swarms my shoulders, pressing heavily on my neck. My eyelashes feel like they weigh a hundred tonnes as they flutter with the force of trying to open.
When they do I’m surrounded by darkness.
My body succumbs to panic, and as I take in a shaky breath my lips brush the tweed fabric of the bag over my head, restricting my sight. When I attempt to move I find my arms have been restrained behind my back.
“Where … where am I?”
I move unwillingly with the bumps in the road, having deciphered I’m in the back of a car. My head spins with a feeling akin to overdosing, and I feel my fight dissipating as I slip back into unconsciousness, hearing a voice say, “Not long now …”
As the darkness starts to overtake me I taste the remaining essence of champagne on my tongue.
My drink …
I slip in and out of unconsciousness for hours, until I finally have the strength to walk on my own two feet. Tight grips on my elbows keep me upright, but I continue to wobble like a new-born calf until the bag is ripped from my head.
Bright lights assault my vision, and I squint my eyes to accommodate the harshness. I’m dressed in a sheer fabric that leaves nothing to the imagination, accessorised by trashy stiletto heels.
“What … what are you—?”
I lift my head slowly at the sound of heavy footsteps, spotting a dark, menacing stare. Richard clasps his hands in front of him.
“The last step of your initiation,” he says, his grin lethal. “Prove your loyalty.”
As if I’ve been branded with a hot poker again I thrash against the restraints, screaming and fighting, paying with my life. “You’re kidding me! I don’t want part of this shit fucking society. I want out!”
Ignoring me, Richard says, “You will be sold to the highest bidder, and you must spend the night with them. If you fail to do so or try to pull any funny business, the cost will be your life.”
“Then kill me!”
He rolls his eyes. “If only it were that easy.”
“What?” I spit. “You’re involved in human trafficking now?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
I resist desperately, and I can tell his patience is wearing thin. He huffs, checking his watch while I cause a scene. He finally speaks over the commotion.
“You will be silent throughout. Show them what they’re investing their money in. Otherwise we’ll drug you. But I suggest you choose the alternative.”
“Get the fuck off me!” I scream until my voice is hoarse. “You can’t do this!”
He nods to one of the guards in the corner, and I throw myself hard against the wall, almost knocking myself out cold. A needle pricks my forearm, and I feel my fight giving out instantly, my senses dulling on impact.
“Sweetheart, I think you’ll find I can. My men and I have been slipping drugs into your drinks for months, awaiting this very moment.”
My vision is hazy, but I notice him nodding to one of the guards.
“Get her ready.”
My legs shake underneath me. I’m pulled up to my feet, aided by a strong grip on my elbow. My head is spinning, but I can decipher odd shapes and sense a presence immediately in front of me.
A girl. I see the panic rising on her features as we lock eyes.
I promise I’ll put an end to this stupid fucking society once I’m out of here.
For a moment I wonder if I deserve this. Wonder if it’s karma trying to punish me for every bad decision I’ve ever made.
A flash of loneliness stabs me.
The curtain draws back, and the poor girl disappears behind it as she’s ushered through. A speaker echoes behind the fabric, but I struggle to hear. And then, when a few minutes have passed, she’s escorted out by a burly guard, her eyes finding mine in the chaos.
“Stay on your own feet,” the guard says. He shoves at my body, and I stumble onto the stage.
It’s an elevated platform, in a circular shape, like the boxing ring within the grounds of the Circle headquarters. Glass panels cover the edges, providing a viewing platform for everyone to see. It’s only one-sided, so my reflection in the sheer outfit assaults me from every angle.
I know there must be men behind there.
Watching.
Ogling.
“We’ve saved the best for last.” A woman’s mechanical voice booms through the speakers. “The bidding will begin at one hundred thousand. ”
My body no longer feels like its own as I’m shaken with tremors, barely able to keep myself upright. Thick fog surrounds my vision, and I can barely make out the LED lights overhead.
One hundred thousand pounds.
It’s absurd. Utterly barbaric.
And despite everything … for a fleeting moment I wonder if it’s Harry. Wonder if he’ll come save me one final time …
“I have one hundred and fifty—”
“Two hundred. Two hundred thousand.”
I trip over my own two feet, catching myself against the glass with the shock that knocks my body off-centre. My reflection stares back at me, and I suddenly recognise that vulnerable, fragile girl I lost several months ago.
She stares back at me with pure, guttural panic as the voice booms, “Two hundred and fifty. Two hundred and fifty thousand.”
“Five.”
“Five fifty.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting back the onslaught of tears as I push myself back to my feet. My hands desperately work to cover my body, trying to stop these sick, vile men from looking at me. But my attempts are pathetic – I’m barely able to lift my limbs.
“Six—”
“Seven fifty. Seven hundred and fifty thousand.”
Tears swarm me. Balance weak from the quivering of my limbs, I fall to my knees, catching myself with my palms as my body meets the hard ground. Lifting my head slowly, I lock eyes with myself in the mirror, praying I’ll fight.
Praying this won’t ruin me.
Closing my eyes, I breathe slowly, trying to calm my racing pulse.
Just persevere for a few more seconds , a voice in my head pleads. You can do it. A few more seconds and it won’t hurt anymore .
The effect of the drug gnaws through me, distorting my sense of time and reality.
When I open my eyes a guard is storming towards me. They lean down, grip my arm, and force me to my feet, dragging me towards the exit.
“What … what happened?” I ask, tripping over myself.
But they say nothing.
Attempting to keep up with their long strides as I’m tugged down the corridor, I catch sight of the large LED board displaying the final price above the exit. I force myself to do a double-take, the lights blurring in front of my eyes while I struggle to make out the seven numbers.
One million pounds.
It’s been hours since the final figure was called. I was taken into medical and given a concoction of medicine to work as an antidote against whatever they put into my system earlier. I’m not sure if I believe them, but I do feel slightly more like myself. As human as anyone can feel after experiencing the havoc of what I just went through.
As if to make matters worse, after leaving the medical room I was given strict instructions to dress to impress. The feeling made me sick. I was ushered into a room with Liv, the fashion designer from Pixies, who was standing by a rack of dresses and heels and barely glanced in my direction as I entered. She simply looked me over to see which dress would be the most flattering and then opted for a floor-length gown with beads, dark purple in colour. In another life I might have thought the dress was pretty. But it makes me feel ugly.
It makes me feel utterly disgusting .
When I’m dropped off by the escort vehicle, an odd sense of déjà vu hits me as I step out in front of the building Harry first took me to. That first gala as the impressionable girl who ached to be a part of the glitz and the glamour.
I close the door behind me, swallowing back the sick feeling in my mouth as I hold onto the front of my dress and walk up the parade of steps.
There’s no one here. No guards. No onlookers. Just silence.
A nagging voice tells me to run free, but I’ll only face a worse punishment for my incompetence. Besides, they’re bound to be here at any moment.
As I search the property, the eeriness and the silence send a cold chill up my arms that makes me hug them to myself instinctively. The highest bidder must be pretty important if Richard is willing to vacate a property like this.
Distracted by the thought, I barely hear whoever approaches from the marble steps. The hairs on my arms stand on end, and I make a slow turn to look over my shoulder before spinning my body around fully.
My lips part in shock at the sight of the person standing at the entrance. My heart stops altogether.
I definitely wasn’t expecting him .
“What … what are you doing here?”