Chapter 2 Grace
GRACE
My mother leaves the room with the syringe in her hand.
I start to hyperventilate. I hate feeling this way. I hate how helpless she makes me feel.
Before I can spiral, the door opens again.
It's not my mother this time, but a tall woman I've never seen before.
Her dark hair is slicked into a severe bun, her body draped in black from head to toe.
Two young girls stand behind her, dressed in simple linen gowns, their heads bowed low.
My stomach churns as I realize who they are.
"I'm Mrs. V," the woman says, looking at me through slitted eyes. "Do you understand why I'm here?"
I can't bring myself to speak, so I just stare at her.
"You're about to be presented in front of some very important people," she says. "Normally, that requires a few weeks of training, but your mother assured me it wasn't necessary."
My breath leaves my lungs in short punches, barely filling my lungs.
“You’re expected to follow all commands,” she says. "Any disobedience on your part will result in unpleasant consequences. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nod.
She walks toward me.
I can smell the evil from her pores. People with bad hearts have a certain scent that clings to them. It's sickly sweet, lingering even under perfume. My own mother reeks of it.
She leans down and pinches my chin so hard that it makes tears form in my eyes.
"You're not as unattractive as your mother described you to be," she observes. "You could even be one of the headliners."
She unlocks the handcuff from around my wrist. I pull my sore hand close to my chest.
"Stand," she orders, stepping back.
I look up at her. She arches a black eyebrow.
A silent threat.
I stand.
"Strip," she says.
My mouth dries. I go to the happy place in my head—warm ocean breeze and sunshine on my face. I remove my nightgown.
"All of it," she says.
My chin trembles. The humiliation of it all makes me want to rage and scream, but I keep it contained inside me.
The repercussions aren't as bad when I just do what I'm told.
"I don't have all day," she says.
I unclasp my bra and let it fall to the floor. And then I step out of my panties. I cover myself with my arms.
She gestures for me to turn.
I slowly turn in a circle, wishing the earth would open up and swallow me whole. I'm terrified because I know that the day is only going to get worse.
I keep hoping someone will save me from this, but I know I'm on my own here.
"Can I go to the bathroom?" I ask, keeping my gaze lowered.
"Of course, we're not animals," she replies.
I reach for my discarded nightgown and pull it back on. As I head toward the bathroom at the far end of the room, I notice that I'm being followed.
It's one of the girls in the linen dresses.
There's a pit in my stomach. I can't even have privacy when I go to the bathroom now.
I make myself take deep breaths to remain calm. The ceiling lights flicker to life as I step inside.
"Please leave the door open," the girl whispers, stopping at the threshold.
I grip the polished stone countertop and stare at myself in the mirror. I look so pale and tired, like I'm barely holding on to life.
“I don’t know how it came to this,” I say out loud. “My mother has done some terrible things, but selling her own daughter at an auction is definitely in the top three."
The girl's eyes are downcast. She doesn't give any indication that she heard me.
I turn to look at her.
"Is she holding you captive, too?" I whisper.
Her eyes flick to mine for a second, but she quickly looks back down.
"You're not allowed to speak to me?" I ask.
She doesn't lift her eyes.
My heart squeezes in my chest. The girl looks so young. I wonder how long she's been exploited by people like my mother and Mrs. V. Because that's what they do. They prey on the weak.
And there's nothing I can do to change that.
I splash water on my face and stare at myself. I know there's strength deep inside me, but some days, it's really hard to find.
Some days, all I hear is my mother's voice in my head.
Telling me how I'm not pretty like Briar. Telling me that I'm too big. Telling me I'm not enough.
But during my time in the outside world, I learned that I'm not as revolting as my mother described me.
I was so close.
So close to having everything I ever wanted.
"No guts, no glory," I whisper to myself.
Nobody is coming to save me. I need to remember that. I need to fight even when everything feels pointless.
"I tried to run before," the girl whispers.
I turn toward her. She's still looking at the floor.
"What happened?" I ask.
"It's not worth it," she says.
That's what I used to tell myself. A few months ago, dozens of children were being kept captive in my own home. I didn't do anything about it because I was too afraid of the repercussions.
I'm still ashamed of how passive I was, rather than doing something.
"What's your name?" I ask her.
“Fifty-eight," she says.
"That's a number," I say, confused.
"The number is our name," she replies.
I suck in a breath. The more I learn about this world, the less I want to be a part of it.
"What was your name before you came here?" I ask.
She only blinks at me. "We should go now. This is taking too long."
“You can’t let them erase your identity,” I tell her. “You can’t let them break you."
She doesn't say a word, but I see it all in her eyes. They tell me it's too late.
"Please," she says.
I swallow and step outside. The girl walks behind me.
"Sarah," she whispers. "My name was Sarah."
My feet falter for a moment before I resume walking.
I don't know how I'll be able to help someone else when I can't even help myself. But this has gotten under my skin. It's enough to awaken the part of me that's bold and unafraid.
"You took your sweet time," Mrs. V says, glancing at Sarah. "Give her a bath. We need to have her dressed and ready for the auction in less than two hours."
"Yes, ma'am," Sarah replies.
Mrs. V leaves without another word, taking the other girl with her. The doors close behind them. It's just Sarah and me in the room now.
I walk toward the windows.
"Opening them will trigger an alarm," Sarah says.
I turn to look at her.
"Guards are stationed outside every door," she says, gesturing for me to follow her into another room. "It's not worth it. Please don't get me into trouble."
I want to tell her that I'll try to get her out of this hell. But I don't want to make promises I can't keep.
I follow her into the adjoining room. There's a dressing table in one corner stacked with makeup products and hair tools. Numerous racks of clothes are pushed to the side. My stomach churns as I realize that I'm not the first girl to get ready for an auction here. And I won't be the last.
She takes me to another bathroom.
A giant circular bathtub sits in the middle with steam rising from the water. Sarah checks the temperature with her hand before looking at me.
"What's in the water?" I ask. The milky-colored water looks inviting, but I'm hesitant to step into it.
"Milk and honey," she says. "It makes your skin soft."
"Nothing else?" I ask.
She glances back at the water. "Some rose petals. Are you allergic to anything?"
I shake my head. I don't know how to explain to someone that my mother has been poisoning my mind and body in creative ways since the day I was born.
I undress and step into the bath.
The hot water feels so good, instantly sucking the heaviness out of my bones.
"May I?" she asks, lifting a loofah.
I give her my arm and watch as she starts scrubbing. They already waxed me from the neck down two days ago, painfully removing every single strand of hair from my body. I had multiple facials and hair treatments done yesterday as well, all so I can look my best for the auction.
The heaviness in my heart won't budge.
"Where are you from?” I ask.
"It's better not to think of the past," she says.
"Don't you miss your family?" I ask.
Unexpected rage flashes through her eyes. "My family is the reason I'm here."
"They sold you?"
"It was a rough winter, and they had too many mouths to feed."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay," she says. "I've made my peace with it."
There's so much more to life, though.
I grew up in a mansion, but it was a house of horrors. The walls were tainted with fear and blood. It wasn't until I left everything I knew that I realized just how beautiful life could be.
I'm not one to overshare, but I feel the need to open up to Sarah. I want her to know that nothing tastes sweeter than freedom.
"I ran away from home a few months ago," I tell her. "I never thought I would have the courage to do it, but I had to leave. And it was the happiest few weeks of my life."
"Where did you go?" she asks.
"California." I smile at the memory. "I hitchhiked across the country. It wasn't all rainbows and butterflies, but at least I was free. And that was enough."
"Were you alone?"
I nod.
"How do you know who you can trust?"
"I had to go with my intuition," I say. "But most of the time, it was just a risk I had to take. Remaining the same was killing me slowly."
She watches me for a moment.
"I think this place is killing me slowly," she whispers. "I don't feel anything anymore."
I take a deep breath.
"How old are you, Sarah?"
Tears spring to her eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"It's just really nice to hear someone say my name," she says. And then she adds, “I’m fourteen."
My heart feels like it's made of jagged glass. It slices up my insides with every breath I take.
"I'm going to get you out of here," I vow to her. "Even if it's the last thing I do."
“I don’t see how that’s possible.” She reaches for one of the glass vials beside her. She sprinkles some sandalwood oil into the water. The sweet, earthy scent almost masks the stench of evil that clings to these walls.
"I give you my word," I say to her.