4 Girl #1
Late fall, nine months earlier
The woman had found her, taken her away from a place she’d never wanted to be.
The teaching began right away. The woman had a soothing voice and a twinkle in her eye that seemed to promise that everything would be worth it.
She brought them gifts, and she assured them that the lessons might seem rigorous at first, but life would get better and better.
It would be like a dream. She took them to the spa, treated them to days of beauty and massage, and she gave them a place to live.
That’s when the man came.
Sometimes he took the girl to the boat. She always hoped it was the last time, but then he would get mad and tell her it was time to go back.
He would blindfold her. Then he would unlock the bedroom door and lead her down the stairs and out of the house.
She breathed the fresh air. It smelled like salt, and sometimes she felt tiny drops of water on her skin, and she recognized the feeling of condensation, of fog.
He had her on a leather leash, like a dog.
They walked a short distance, and grass tickled her bare feet.
Then she would feel rough boards under her feet, and they would step onto the boat.
He would take the blindfold off and unclip the leash.
The door would be open just long enough for her to walk to the bunk.
He didn’t touch her, didn’t lead her there.
He made her lie down by herself, as if it were her idea, and in some secret way, deep inside herself, that made it worse.
Then he’d clamp the cuffs around her ankles.
At those moments, she wished she had never been found—“rescued”—by the woman.
The boat moved on the wind and tides, and sometimes the movement made her feel sick. The month of October had been cold; her hands were numb. She was so alone here. She twirled the ring on her finger. It began to feel like a friend, a companion, her ring.
She reached out, placed her hand flat on the porthole.
Maybe someone outside would see and think she was waving.
She tapped her ring, then turned it and dragged the stone across the glass.
If she died, she would have left a little clue.
A mark that would say she had been there.
He would be so surprised. He would deserve it.
She tried to press harder, but she felt very weak.
She wished he would come back and take her to the mansion.
Even if there was a party, even if all the other men were there in their tuxedos—and the woman directing all the pretty girls in their gowns—even if they demanded she obey, even that would be okay.
The cuffs would be off, and she’d have the chance to run away.
The woman had promised her that life would be a dream.
She began to cry, calling for the woman to come and take her back to her old life, to her old dreams, to anything but this.
She cried for anyone, even one of the tuxedoed men, to come and save her life.