3. Harmony
Harmony
Water rushes through my curly hair. My olive skin burns from the heat of the water. I love it. Washing away all of the crimes I have helped him commit.
My eyes sting from crying. I knew I shouldn’t have lied. That could get me killed.
What I don’t understand is why he acted so calm and collected after I lied to him… He just walked away like it was no big deal. And trust me, lying is a massive deal to Damien.
I step out of the shower and dry myself off.
The mirror is fogged up from the steam. I gently wipe the mirror with the corner of my towel, revealing my face.
My face shows how resilient I can be. No one knows what it’s like to live the life that I have. Once I had everything, then… it was gone.
I examine my face, which is bruised from getting slammed into the dresser. Fuck. I get dressed and put on some light make-up, covering the evidence of my abuser.
I walk out of the bathroom and down the hall to the library. One thing Damien does do is let me buy however many books my heart desires. And for that, I am grateful.
I glide my fingers over the spines of the books and stop on one that has always hit hard. “There Are No Saints” by Sophie Lark. I have read this book countless times. Followed by the second one in the duet. Both just speak to me in their own messed-up ways.
I love to imagine, I am the girl in the book, eventually having my happily-ever-after. But let’s be real. I will never have that. Not as long as Damien lives.
I sit down on the oversized chair and begin reading.
Nothing can stop me from reading.
* * *
Doors slam, and I am jolted from my sleep. Fuck.
I rush to stand, placing my book back on the shelf. Damien hates it when I sleep during the day. He says I’m wasting time. I’ve never understood his obsession with time.
He always has to be doing something. If he isn’t doing something, then he is out of control. Damien is someone who always has to be in control.
I peer out into the hallway and spot Damien and Reese having a heated conversation.
I stay inside the room, listening closely to their conversation.
“You’re sure they were there?” Damien asks Reese.
“Yeah. Fucking Lucien and Dante.”
Damien throws his fist into the wall.
“Fuck,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Want me to take them out?”
Reese’s question makes my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach. No. He can’t be serious.
“No. Not yet. We have to time it right. That way they’ll never see us coming,” Damien says.
Hi s words slash through me like a blade, splintering me open. I hold my breath to keep from giving myself away.
“Sure thing.” Footsteps exit the hall. The truth of the matter washes over me. He wants to kill them. No. He is going to kill them.
My throat constricts as I think about what that would mean for me. A life full of Hell. Until I die. Then I’ll go to Hell again for all of the sins I have committed.
I hurry back to the chair and plop down. Damien enters right after I settle myself.
“We are going out,” he says.
“Oh… Where to?”
“The Orchard.”
Dread sinks into my bones. I try to only go there once a week on Sundays. I hate being around it. The poor helpless girls, and the sick fucking men. Bile rises in my throat at the thought.
“Awesome! I’ll go get ready.” I sound enthusiastic. That’s how he wants me. Docile. Committed. When internally… I am the exact opposite. I’m vengeful and looking for the perfect escape.
I skip down the hall, keeping my spirits high as I enter our bedroom. I shuffle through some outfits in the closet and find one that’s modest. Damien doesn’t like it when I dress like the girls he sells. He says it makes me look cheap.
I think, he thinks it’s supposed to be a compliment… but it never is.
I take one last look in the mirror and say an unspoken vow to my reflection. One that says I will never become the monster he tries to make me be.
* * *
The truck’s tires roll over the dirt with ease as we enter The Orchard.
The Orchard is a 150-acre plot of land with a scary-ass building smack right in the middle of it.
Every few acres, barbed wire and bear traps are set.
This is to make sure no one escapes. Damien would tell you it’s to keep people from breaking in and taking the product, but we all know it’s the other way around.
Our truck passes through the gated entrance.
The iron gates squeal shut, trapping us in.
I take a deep breath as we park. The air is colder here.
It’s almost like a promise. A promise of death.
I jump out of the truck, kicking up dirt into the air.
I cough on the dust as I make my way to the entrance.
Damien waits for me. He always gets mad when I take too long.
He tells me, nothing is ever urgent to me.
When really—I just don’t want anything he has to offer me. So yeah, you could say I’m not acting with urgency.
I meet his side and he pulls me in for a side hug, kissing the side of my neck, pulling the skin between his teeth. He releases it, and I give him a playful look. God. I hate pretending. I never understood the whole PDA thing. I don’t want other people to see what should be done in private.
The tall, dungeon-like building greets us with a sinister vibe. The outside is made of stone. It looks like it could have once been a church. The front door is made of steel. It seals off the innocent souls from their freedom.
The door opens quietly, and then the smell hits me.
It smells like tears, piss, and broken fucking dreams. I never want to experience living here. Ever in my fucking life.
We walk down the main hall, it is painted a dark, blood-like red. The ceiling has gothic-looking light fixtures. It looks like a dark academia prison. Something a cult leader would like.
I follow right behind him, matching his pace. We stop outside of the main office— Midas’ office.
He scans his thumbprint and enters.
The inside is decora ted completely differently. He’s decorated the entire office in gold. He has lost his fucking mind.
I take my seat in the chair calling my name, a black wing-back chair. It reminds me of my grandma. He sits behind his massive wooden slab. The desk screams “power”.
I watch him closely as he pulls up the surveillance. The large TV displays the front gate. A black Mercedes drives by slowly, then peels off. Dante and Lucien.
I advert my attention, but not without him catching me.
“Did I make you uncomfortable, my queen?” He asks in a condescending tone.
“No.”
“Hmm… Interesting.”
He switches the view on the cameras to one of the rooms. A girl lies on the floor. She is thin and looks delirious.
“172 days,” he says quietly.
A shiver crawls up my spine, making me shudder.
“She isn’t worth anything, is she?” He asks.
I shake my head “no”. Holding down the rising bile.
“I’ll give you a choice, Harmony.”
I fucking hate these games that he plays.
“You have two choices: Sacrifice her next week…” He takes a long pause as he stands from his desk. “Or she can be your little project.”
I pinch my brows together. Unsure of what that’s supposed to mean.
“W-what?” I ask.
“Kill her. Or you get to help her get ready for the next auction.”
The bile rises further. I have to kill her. Or groom her. Fucking Hell. No.
“Neither,” I say quickly. Instantly regretting my decision. He throws a glass pyramid trinket across the room. Shattering it above my head. I flinch.
“God fucking dammit!” He screams.
I tense in response.
“I SAID FUCKING PICK ONE!”
“I’ll help her,” I state quietly.
“What was that?” He asks as he walks towards me. Prowling like a lion about to capture its prey.
“I-I said I will help her.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He pushes my chin up with his index finger, staring into my eyes. My eyes that are full of life, full of happiness. He will never steal that from me.
“No.” Lie. I don’t want to condemn anyone to a life like this. But at the end of the day, if you’re dead, you don’t even have a chance.
* * *
Death rots in the air around me. I know there is a dead body somewhere. There has to be.
He walks me up the corridor to the cell, containing my newest project. He told me I could do whatever is necessary to make sure she sells. The next auction is two months away. I have two months to get her ready. Otherwise… she will become an offering.
I probably should have just killed her. That way, I wouldn’t have to kill someone else this week. But the girl on the screen looked lost. Helpless. Like she was once someone like me. Someone hopeful. Someone positive.
I had to save her.
He slowly pushes open her door and she lies nearly lifeless on the ground. I walk over to her, trying not to vomit from the smell. She is malnourished and has extreme dark circles. Her lips are cracked and her hair is matted.
“H-hey,” I say to her.
“Hi,” she says quietly, not breaking her stare from the ceiling.
“You’re going to come with me, okay? But you can’t run.”
She blinks once.
“Okay.”
What? Why would she just agree? She has lost her mind, hasn’t she?
I grab her hand and lift her onto her shaky legs. She swings her arm around me, and I am hit with a disgusting odor. She needs a bath. Bad.
I walk her out into the hallway.
“Are you an angel?” She asks in a lazy voice.
“No, but I am going to save you.” I admit to her quietly.
I’m going to try my best to save her. And myself.