CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I ROLLED OVER on the cot, trying to get comfortable. I was exhausted but unable to sleep. Images of Phoebe’s lifeless eyes haunted me. Several times I woke from the dark hands of a nightmare clutching at my heart expecting to see her. The pain hit all over again when the realization crashed down on me. She was gone.
Making love to Jackson was empowering, making me feel like me again, though it only lasted a few short minutes. But the confidence it had given quickly work off. I had a dream of being shipped to Europe in a coffin. Phoebe’s dead body had been dumped on top of me to cover up the fact that a very alive person was inside the polished wooden box. I woke up with cheeks wet from crying.
It took over an hour to calm down. Once I did, I shot up in bed, worried about the stains on the quilt. Jackson did the laundry, but what if Lily or Rochelle noticed before he got the chance? They would know we had sex and Jackson would get beaten … or worse.
I tossed and turned until the sun started to creep up over the horizon. The golden light muted my fears, and I was able to drift into a light sleep, not waking until the basement door slammed shut. Sobs resonated off the dry walled staircase. I sat up and twisted around to see Lily emerge from the stairwell. She had her face in her hands, mopping away mascara streaked tears.
“Jackson told me,” she cried. Her red eyes flicked to Phoebe’s bed. “She’s really dead?” Her voice was strained.
“Yes,” I said and felt my own eyes prickle with tears. I blinked them away.
“You were with her, right? She didn’t die alone?”
“I was there until the end,” I said, wanting to comfort Lily. I swung my legs over the side of the cot and patted the mattress next to me. Lily sank down and started crying. I put my arms around her and smoothed her hair, which was stiff with hairspray.
“Was it peaceful?”
“Yes,” I soothed. The image of Phoebe violently convulsing on the floor while blood oozed from her mouth and nose flashed through my brain. The sound of her face smacking against the floor caused a shudder to ripple through me. “In her sleep.” My jaw trembled, and I tried to block out the heartbreaking grief.
I failed. I hugged Lily and cried with her. I thought of Phoebe and wished I had a good, lighthearted memory of her to share, but I didn’t. All I had was the comfort she had given me, the times when she had tended to my wounds after getting beaten by Zane and Nate, and the hope she instilled in me from the very beginning. I had no comforting words. I couldn’t reflect on the good life Phoebe lived. I couldn’t take consolation in knowing that each day was filled with happiness. She was living in hell on earth, and I could only hope that heaven was real and that was where she was.
And now she was gone without a trace. Even if her body was recovered from the woods, would anyone know who she was? She was illegally smuggled into the country. She had no last name, no passport, and no records of even existing.
“You guys okay?” Rochelle’s voice came from across the room. I hadn’t even heard her come down the stairs.
“No,” Lily cried. Suddenly, she sprang up. “You should have gotten the pills! You didn’t even try! You were too worried about upsetting Zane. And now she’s dead. Dead, Rochelle! And never coming back!” Lily’s hands balled into fists, and her arms shook. “I hate this place. I hate it! I want to leave.” Her hands flew to her head, her fingers scrunching her hair, and she broke down in hysterical sobs.
“Don’t say that!” Rochelle snapped. “It’s not true.”
“Yes, it is! Phoebe was right. This place is hell!”
I got up and put an arm around Lily. “She’s right,” I agreed.
“Stop it!” Rochelle yelled. “Both of you. Stop it!”
“Why should we?” I countered. “This place is hell, and you can’t deny it. If there was a way out, I’d be the first one leaving!” I spat.
“And you will be,” Zane’s smooth voice floated down the stairs.
We all paused, waiting for him to reach the bottom. Dressed in dark washed jeans, black leather boots, and a long sleeved gray shirt under a motorcycle jacket, Zane reminded me of a raven. Sunlight gleaming off shiny black feathers, swooping down on his prey with gossamer wings, luring in victims with his grace and beauty, then razor sharp talons pierced through even the toughest of flesh, digging deep until they grasped the soul. By the time his true nature was found out, it was too late.
“Just three short months, and you’ll be out of here.”
“What is he talking about?” Lily asked, her eyebrows pinched together with worry.
“You didn’t hear?” Zane spoke to her, but his eyes were focused on me. “Little Miss Adeline was the star of the auction. You should have seen the bidding war that went on.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “It was a first for us. Who knew this little spark could be worth so much?”
“What?” Lily asked, the color draining from her already pale face.
“And to think,” Zane continued, ignoring Lily. “Mr. Shevchenko paid twice the going rate for someone who has been nothing but a pain in my ass.” He laughed. “You’ll be his problem soon enough.”
“What?” Lily repeated, her voice desperate. “What is going on?”
“They sold me at the auction,” I said, my voice hollow. My breath whooshed out, leaving me feeling empty. Zane’s eyes met mine, flashing sadistic enjoyment. Rage waved over me, and I desperately wanted to hurt him.
“You’re a pathetic, psychotic loser,” I sneered. “The only thing you have going for you is that pretty face. Someone’s gonna enjoy making you their bitch in prison.”
“Shut up,” he retorted.
“I can see it now, the inmates fighting over who gets to stick it up your tight little ass.”
“I said shut up!” He pushed off the wall.
“Maybe they’ll take turns, and you’ll finally know how it feels to be raped over and over again. I hope they pull you apart and make you bleed.”
He lunged forward and took hold of the neck of my shirt. He raised his fist and stopped. “Can’t damage the merchandise,” he said through clenched teeth. Needing a release, he let me go, turned around, and hit Lily. She cried out and fell to the floor. “That was your fault,” Zane told me, his voice thick with held back anger. With his lips pulled back in a snarl, he grabbed Rochelle by the arm. “Go upstairs. Wait in my room.”
Rochelle nodded, doe-eyed, and reached out to touch Zane’s face. He jerked out of the way and stormed over to me. I stood my ground, taking a deep breath. I didn’t think he would hit me, not with so much money riding on my well-being and physical appearance. He grasped my shoulders, yanked me forward, and kneed me in the stomach. The wind got knocked out of me, and pain radiated, making me feel like I was going to throw up.
“It’ll heal,” he said mostly to himself. He turned on his heel following Rochelle up the stairs. I panted and pushed myself up.
“Lily,” I said and rushed over to her. Droplets of blood splattered onto the floor.
She pressed her hand over her nose and gagged. Blood continued to seep through her fingers.
“Lean forward,” I told her. “You’re swallowing the blood.” I put my hand on her shoulder.
She shook me off, narrowing her pretty green eyes. “Stop,” she mumbled.
I recoiled, my feelings hurt. “I’m sorry,” I apologized, though I didn’t think I needed to. Zane hit Lily because he was bat-shit crazy. I didn’t make him.
“Just leave me alone,” she said, spitting out blood. “Yuck.” She pinched her nose and tipped her head up, ignoring my advice, and struggled to her feet. She went over to the vanity. “Fuck. I’m supposed to work the streets tonight. Who’s gonna want me now?” she muttered. She spoke low as if she was talking to herself, but I knew she was saying it aloud only to make me feel bad.
“Maybe you’ll have the night off?” I offered.
“And lose money?” she scoffed.
I stared at her reflection. Where had the girl gone who, just a few minutes before, wanted to escape? Her mindset was changing. She was becoming more and more brainwashed, just like Rochelle. I retreated to my cot, wrapping the blue blanket around my shoulders. Lily showered and dressed in pajamas before working on her hair. I ground my teeth and fought back tears.
The whirl of the hairdryer drowned out the sound of the door opening. I didn’t know Jackson had come down the stairs with our daily food until he set the tray down and came over to the bed. He touched my shoulder; I startled and jerked upright.
“Sorry,” he said and backed away, nervously eyeing Lily, who had her head upside down, blasting it with hot air.
I nodded in understanding. Our eyes met. I wanted so badly to pull him to me, to wrap my arms around him. My heart ached and I longed to feel the heat of his skin against mine. It hurt, being this close to him without being able to touch him. Lily flipped her head up. Jackson turned around and went up the stairs. I got off the cot and grabbed a granola bar. I ate it slowly and lay back down.
After getting her hair stick straight, Lily climbed into bed to nap before tonight’s work. A ring of purple circled her nose, but the bone was still straight, leading me to believe it hadn’t been broken. I closed my eyes and imagined my house, letting my mind take over. I was sitting in the dining room, a room we rarely used, since sitting down for a family dinner wasn’t an every day occurrence. Arianna sat, texting on her cell phone. Dad would scold her, damning technology. Mom would go into her rant about how she thought the constant usage of cell phones and tablets damaged family values. And I would smile and nod, pretending I agreed while I helped myself to a second piece of cornbread.
It wasn’t the first time I created that same scenario in my mind, but this time something was different. There was another person at the table with us, enjoying dinner and putting up with my parents’ crazy lectures. Jackson was deep in conversation with my father, talking about how important it was for children to read books instead of watch TV.
I smiled to myself, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Then heartache crashed over me, tearing into my soul. As much as I wanted to believe that could happen, a nasty little thing called realism chipped away at my happy vision, reminding me that the chances of both Jackson and I getting out alive, let alone together, were slim to none.
I took a deep breath and focused on the dining room. I could almost smell the hot bowl of my dad’s chili in front of me. Jackson put his hand on my thigh. His face was clean-shaven and bruise-free. The scars on his body had faded. I put my spoon down and put my hand over his.
Something glinted on my left hand. Involuntarily, I had put an engagement ring on my finger. My heart fluttered. It was stupid to think about rings and weddings. Deep down, I knew it was, but I needed a reprieve. I needed to think about shiny happy things.
My vision of a hall decorated with white and purple flowers started to darken and Nate stood in the shadows, holding a length of rusty chain. I opened my eyes and sat up, my hand flying to my chest. I took a breath and tried to slow my heart rate. I curled into the fetal position and pulled the blue blanket over my head.
When I couldn’t stop the dark thoughts from taking over, I sat up and looked around the shabby basement. With a heavy sigh, I threw the blankets back and swung my legs over the side of the cot. I walked over to the vanity, picked up a bobby pin, and pulled the rubber off the end. I turned around, eyeing the stairwell before scurrying over. I scraped a thin line in the dry wall, starting my three month count down to the day I’d be shipped off.