Alissa
If anyone had told me three years ago that I’d one day be a prisoner of the notorious “Flesh King” I would have scoffed. The night of my attack, I’d been twenty-two, selfish and arrogant, naïve to the true ways of the world. Now, at twenty-five, I knew not to take anything for granted. Now, I knew what a stupid little fool I’d once been. I was in a bad situation right now. A very bad one. One I would likely be unable to escape from on my own.
Enrique and his thugs had locked me in this small dorm room. Ten minutes later, they’d brought in another girl, zip-tying her hands like they had mine.
The girl now sat across from me, eyeing me with wary, frightened eyes. She hadn’t spoken a word to me since they’d shoved her in the room with me. She was young, late teens, her terror so palpable that it flowed into me. If I thought I was afraid, this poor girl was absolutely terrified.
“It’ll be okay,” I heard myself murmuring softly to her. “No matter what happens, you can’t let them break you. You have to be strong.” I wasn’t sure if I was saying those things to give her courage or myself because God knew I was the one who needed courage right now.
The girl nodded, her eyes wide. “What’s your name? I’m Sofia. They kidnapped me from my apartment. How did they catch you?” She was a beautiful girl. Big, dark eyes, pretty olive-colored skin.
“Alissa. The Spartans broke down my apartment door and kidnapped me, then sold me to Enrique. They made me put on this dress.”
Sofia blinked. “If I looked like you, I’d dress like that all the time.”
I scoffed. No, you wouldn’t. Dressing like this makes you a target for men with evil intentions.
“Take some advice from someone who knows,” I murmured. “Don’t ever dress like this, unless you want to be a prostitute. It makes you a target.”
Her eyes widened. Her bottom lip quivered. “Did they…rape you?”
I looked away, staring at the ugly brown carpet beneath my feet. “Years ago. Back when I thought I was invincible.”
Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “I’m sorry. That must have been horrible for you.”
I lifted my gaze to hers. “Yes, it was.” So horrible, it still haunted me at night. So horrible, I hadn’t been with a man since. So horrible, I was now a mere shell of the woman I’d once been.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you don’t stop holding on to the nightmare, you’ll never be free of it.
The thought shocked me into temporary silence. Had I really been feeling sorry for myself all these years? Was that why I felt so weak and broken, because I couldn’t let go of the past? Was I the one holding myself back from healing?
“What are they going to do to us?” Sofia whispered.
I sighed. How did I comfort her when nothing I could say could prepare her for what was about to come?
“Nothing good.”
Her eyes filled with new fear. “We have to escape. We have to.”
“Yes,” I agreed. But how? We sat in silence for another half hour, our minds in turmoil, imaging all the horrible things that might happen to us. Then Enrique’s thugs returned. They led us from the room and down a long hallway to the stairs. We continued on down to the main level, then out a door to the center of the campus. They urged us across the dark yard to another building, which we soon learned was the theater.
They shoved us into a back room behind the curtains of the theater where about twenty other women waited. Then the thugs left, locking us all in.
Voices came from out in the theater. Cheers. Whistles. Yells. Hoots and hollers.
My stomach roiled. The auction must be starting.
A guard shoved the door open and snagged a pretty young brunette, yanking her from the room.
A somber air filled the air as the rest of us all eyed each other fearfully, terrified of what was to become.
Enrique ran his auction quickly. About every five minutes or so, the guards removed another girl from the room. One by one, they were sold off.
Until soon it was just Sophia and me.
I swore I was not going down without a fight. I wasn’t about to be auctioned off like a heifer.
“I’m scared,” Sophia whispered, trembling beside me.
I squeezed her hand in reassurance. “Be brave,” I whispered.
She clutched my hand fearfully as we both eyed the door.
Which one of us would be next?