Ella

The memory of the girl lying on the bed pulls me out of my haze. I need to talk to her. The mere thought of going to her pushes my body to drive out the drugs quickly.

Focus, Ella. Focus!

My eyes adjust to the spinning motions around me as I get up from the bed and wobble to the glass.

“Don’t,” the man in the cell next to me says. “You’ll get hurt.”

I ignore his pleas and walk until my head hits the glass. Touching it, I slowly slide down until my butt hits the floor. My vision is already improving, and I can clearly see her bed from here.

“Is she awake?” It’s a girl’s voice.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Hey … are you that girl he mentioned?” It’s her. The girl in the other prison.

I nod even though I can still barely make out her figure.

“The drugs wear off quickly. Don’t worry,” she says. “Just breathe deeply.”

She sounds so calm. How could anyone be this calm if they were just taken and put into a small box like some kind of pet?

“It’s okay. I’ve been through the same thing … lots of times, actually,” she says.

But that means she’s been here … before me? I stare at her with my mouth open.

“I’m Syrena. You?”

That’s a beautiful name, I sign.

Her face is already becoming a bit clearer, and I can definitely make out her dark complexion and the curls in her hair.

“She doesn’t talk,” grumpy guy next door says while leaning against the glass.

I look up at him standing just a few feet away, and he crosses his arms and looks away as if he’s upset at something. If only I knew what.

“Oh … you’re mute?” she asks.

I nod. Well, selectively anyway. But it doesn’t matter because it still doesn’t mean I speak. At least not here, in an unknown place with people I don’t know.

The only ones who’ve heard my voice since my sister died are my parents because they’re the only ones I trust.

I’m not expecting my voice to return to me anytime soon.

“No problem,” she says. “I can just ask questions. So the guy next to you, his name is Cage.”

Cage. How fitting.

When she calls out his name, he gazes at me instead of her. And the way he looks at me is just so … overpowering, somehow. Like he wants to possess me. Own me.

Syrena coughs. “Actually, that’s just what Graham calls him. Cage. And then he points at this glass box we’re in, saying Cage every damn day.” She shrugs. “As in ‘Get in the Cage.’ He’s never called him anything other than that.”

Wait … that means his name is literally this place? Cage? His name is also his space? It doesn’t make sense.

“I know, it’s weird.” She still seems so unfazed. “Everything is, here. Graham took me a few weeks ago,” she says. “He’s been keeping me locked up ever since.”

But you weren’t here before, I sign.

She continues to scrunch her face, but nothing I do helps her understand what I want to say. There must be some way I can tell her what I’m thinking. And then it hits me. Graham gave me lipstick.

I immediately reach for the dress and snatch the lipstick off the bed. And for the first time in ages, I write something down … Right on the glass.

Where were you?

The letters are thick, greasy, and bright red. The text is so vivid. She must be able to read that.

“Uh …” Syrena mumbles.

I look up at Cage who raises his brow at me. He points at his eyes and then cocks his head at Syrena. I follow his lead … and when I finally take a good look at her, I notice her eyes don’t focus on me. And they’re just as white as my hair.

She’s blind.

Shit.

How in the world am I going to communicate with her?

“She wrote on the glass,” Cage says to her.

“Oh …” Syrena says. “I can’t read.” She laughs and points at her eyes. “Blind, you know?”

Well, that’s …

“Unfortunate when I’m stuck in a cage with a guy who can’t read and a girl who can’t talk.” She laughs again. “Just my luck.”

She’s right. It’s almost … too much of a coincidence. Maybe Graham intentionally put us here together.

“Well, anyway, it doesn’t matter. I might be blind, but I’m not stupid. What’s in your cell? Look around you? Anything you can make noise with?”

I do what she says and look around, but there’s nothing apart from a plastic cup and a book that I can pick up. That’s when I realize what I need is right here in the palm of my hand.

I put the lid on the lipstick and tap it on the glass.

A bright smile appears on her face. “See? That was you, wasn’t it?”

I nod, but obviously, she can’t see that, so I tap again.

“Okay, two taps for no, one tap for yes.”

I tap once.

“Good.” She clears her throat. “Now, when I ask you a number, you can tap the numbers too, right? One to ten.”

I tap again.

“Great … See? It works.”

“Amazing,” Cage adds with a grumbling voice, rolling his eyes.

“Stop being such an ass, Cage,” Syrena says. “You’re just upset that two girls are busier talking with each other than fawning over you.”

I sniff a little, laughing through my nose, which she apparently hears because I can definitely see her grin.

Cage rolls his eyes and sighs after which he directs his attention to me. “Go on …”

He points at Syrena, and I’m wondering if he means he actually wants me to communicate with her. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with being locked in with two girls. Who knows.

“All right,” Syrena says, groaning. “So tap one time for the letter A, tap two times for B, three for C, etcetera. You get it? You can make a word. Now tell me your name.”

I tap five times. Then twelve times and then twelve times again. Then once.

“Is it Ella?”

I tap once, and she smiles.

“I like it.”

I smile too, but then Cage opens his mouth and says with a gruff voice, “Ella.”

A shiver runs through my body.

He didn’t just say my name.

He claimed it.

Owned it.

Licked it.

Fuck.

I don’t normally swear, but that’s how it felt. Especially with him looking at me like that.

“God, my feet hurt,” Syrena mumbles, pulling me from my thoughts.

My lips part and I give Cage some looks, wanting him to ask for me.

“Tell her,” Cage growls.

“What? How it happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Well …” She sighs. “Graham takes me out of the cage for days on end. He makes me dance ... in front of a whole audience of slimy businessmen. They’re all there to make fun of me. To hurt me. To … use me.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and I can imagine why.

A ‘rough time’ doesn’t even begin to describe what she’s been through. What we’re all going through. But it sounds like she’s had it the worst.

“They make me dance until my feet can’t take it anymore, and sometimes they find it funny to poke me or burn me.”

I swallow at the thought. I can almost feel my own feet burn just from her description.

“I don’t know who they are; those ugly old men who are just there to enjoy whatever the fuck Graham gives them. I don’t even know what Graham’s doing and why. I just know that he uses us for cash. The men pay him to make me do things.”

Do things? Payment?

We aren’t just here for nothing it seems. I was right after all; so that means he intends to use me too.

“I think those men are just there to buy … people. You know?” she says.

The thought alone makes me shiver.

“Because I wasn’t the first girl here, and neither are you.”

She’s right. Graham even told me so.

“I know for sure Graham’s just showing me around like some expensive porcelain doll because I already heard some whispers around the huge room I was kept in … some of them were saying they were interested in buying me.”

“Sorry,” Cage says.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault, right?” Syrena says.

Cage just shrugs and looks away. I know it must be horrible for him too, to know that’s what’s happening to her and not be able to do anything about it.

But the only question I have is why does Graham have Cage locked up in here? What is his purpose? Is he going to sell Cage too? And what about me?

“But anyway … I don’t know why he took you, Ella, or what he plans to do with you. If he wanted to sell you, he would’ve already introduced you to the men. I mean, you’re special. New. Innocent.”

Innocent.

If only.

“You would know by now if Graham wanted to sell you … which is what I can’t wrap my head around. Why would he keep you here? It must be something else. You have to be here for some other reason …”

Cage’s brows furrow as he stares at me, his face rigid. Without looking away, his lips part, and I feel like he wants to complete Syrena’s sentence.

But I’m not prepared for what he says.

“Me.”