The week was a blur of salons and women with hot wax. Even while I knew what they were going to do with it and even while they’d explained the process, nothing in the world prepared me for the ripping sensation of hairs being torn violently from my vaginal area. The tiny Asian woman had coo’d and clucked sympathetically while applying a fresh strip, but showed not an ounce of remorse.

That was only Monday.

Tuesday, I was marched into a buffering place to get my body massaged and skin scrubbed with what felt like sand. I was wrapped and steamed, and polished with lotions that smelled delicious.

Wednesday was hands and feet. Both were kneaded and painted a delicate shade of innocent pink.

Thursday, I was told to rest, get lots of sleep, but I studied to make up for the last three days. Even if I had the luxury to simply rest, how could I knowing that my whole life would change in a few short hours? I barely had twenty-four hours. Sleep wasn’t an option.

Friday morning, I stumbled out of my apartment and met Louisa at a hair salon. My pale locks were trimmed and layered, and lightened to a soft, almost white. My face was powdered and remade into someone I didn’t recognize. My green eyes appeared wide and innocent shaded a baby pink. My lips were painted a glossy nude.

I didn’t look like myself at all.

Louisa drove with me in the town car. Neither of us said a word the whole way, for which I was relieved. I didn’t think I could handle small talk given where we were going.

We left the bright lights of the city and delved out into the country. Night had fallen, obscuring the farmlands. There was nothing to see for miles before the clumps of trees appeared. I couldn’t fathom where we were headed, but it took nearly two hours to get there.

The Victorian estate with its brightly illuminated lights and burgundy paint greeted us from a wide circle of trees. It sat, a proud structure against the spanning twilight. Any other time, I would have loved it. The Victorian era had always been a favorite of mine, but following Louisa from the car to its backdoor soured me to all of it.

I wanted to soil myself. There was no other term for it. I was scared out of my mind. I could barely walk in a straight line. My vision kept blurring in and out of focus. I wanted to throw up, but wasn’t sure if I’d be able to stop.

Louisa took my hand and patted it lightly. “There, there,” she murmured. “The first time is always hardest. Just let yourself relax and remember why you’re doing this. That always helps.”

It did help, but not enough.

“The good news is, the arena is packed,” Louisa went on, guiding me up the back steps. “Hans hasn’t seen this many clients since Libby the gymnast. That girl can bend in ways that just aren’t natural, but men love her.”

“She’s still working?”

Louisa nodded. “It’s hard leaving a life where you make the kind of money you will tonight. Some leave, but the majority see no point.”

I would leave, I told myself. I just needed enough money to get me through the next eight months of school and then freedom.

We stepped into a back room lined with coat racks. Louisa hung up hers and mine. Then she guided me down a narrow corridor to a small powder room. I was handed a paper bag containing a single, white slip with lace over the breasts and a short hem. The thin, silk straps sat lightly on my shoulders, leaving my arms bare and cold. Louisa brushed my hair and touched up my makeup.

“Feeling okay?”

I shook my head. “No.”

She squeezed my shoulder gently. “I know, sweetheart. But it’ll be over before you know it and next time won’t be nearly as bad.”

That was what I was hoping. Part of me wished Hans let the girls have alcohol. I just needed one shot to calm my nerves. But with my luck, I’ll probably throw up all over myself.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait for you to get called. I think Hans is saving you for last. You’re the big show stopper.”

That didn’t make me feel better at all.

I can’t say how long we waited in that bathroom. I wasn’t sure if it was because that was where the girls were supposed to wait, or because I looked as sick as I felt. But Louisa made no effort to remove me off the toilet lid.

She thankfully didn’t say much. I didn’t think I could carry a conversation anyway. But it felt like hours later when Louisa got a text and that was it.

It was my turn.

I was led further down the hall as it expanded and broke off in different directions. We passed a set of grand stairs to an open alcove with two simple doors facing each other. I was guided into the one on the left. It was closed behind us and I got my first view of the auction stage.

It was a room, a white, spotless room with no windows, and no other doors, except the one we’d come through. There were no pictures on the walls, no fancy designs, or even a nightstand. The hardwood floors were bare. There was an old-style bed up against one side draped in lacy, white sheets. The metal framework reminded me of something from the Victorian era, something old and no longer safe to use. It faced the wall opposite it. At first glance, it looked almost like someone had painted the entire thing black, but as we stepped in deeper and the single light overhead shimmered off its surface, I realized it was a one-sided window, which explained where the bidders would be. I doubted they’d be able to fit everyone in that tiny room with me.

“Can they see me?” I hissed low under my breath, just in case.

“Not yet,” Louisa answered, maneuvering me to the bed. “There’s a curtain that will be drawn back when we start.”

“How do I know we’ve started?”

She pointed to a bulb I hadn’t noticed just above the door. “It comes on when the show starts and goes off when it ends.”

I sucked in a breath that rattled in my chest. My teeth chattered.

“Loosen up, honey,” Louisa prompted gently when she set me on the firm mattress and my knees wouldn’t bend.

She arranged my hair over one shoulder and made me grasp the gold post on one end of the footboard. The cold metal burned against my palm and the side of my hip where I was made to sit with my feet planted flat on the floor.

“All right, remember now, give them what they’re paying for.” Louisa offered me a smile. “You’ll get through this.”

Then she was gone and I was left staring at myself in a sheet of dark glass. The woman staring back looked as scared and paralyzed as I felt. Her complexion was a frightening, chalky color under the makeup. Her eyes were too wide, too glossy with terror. She looked on the verge of bolting. The only thing keeping her rooted was the post between her hands.

You can do this, I told her silently.

She didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

Above the door, the light went on.