by C. E. Wilson
“You want a specific number?” Shawn asks.
Why is Reese asking so many questions? He’ll draw attention to himself if he doesn’t stop.
“Yes, I want a specific number.”
“Reese, I only asked your advice on her. I don’t owe you any commission.”
“I just want to know.” Reese starts to sound more desperate.
“You couldn’t afford it.”
“Who said I wanted to?” Reese snaps. “What’s the number? I need it for my notes.”
“Twenty thousand,” he says. “Plus, he’s paying for her travel. Who am I to resist? I would have sold her for half that.”
“She’s worth so much more, if you would just be patient,” Reese says.
“That may well be true, young man,” Shawn says, “but my family’s happiness comes first.”
“Did you even look into the buyer’s history?”
“He’s a wealthy man and he’s far away. That’s all I need to know.”
“Overseas is different. What if keeps her in a cage? What if he abuses her?”
“It needs to happen this way,” Shawn says. I hear the annoyance in his voice. “She needs to go.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s troublesome.”
“But what does that mean?”
“You sound upset, Reese. Are you?”
“I’m not happy about it. I thought I’d keep working with her. I thought she was a good match for you.”
“She is. Too good. And if it means that much to you, you can go downstairs and say goodbye to her.”
“I… aren’t you going to the hospital today?” Reese asks.
“With twenty thousand dollars on the line, I think I’ll stick around,” Shawn says. “I need to clean her up and make sure she looks her best for her new buyer.”
“What do you know about this guy other than he’s very wealthy?”
“She can’t stay. I can’t keep her here,” Shawn says.
“You can’t send her overseas,” Reese says. “How do you know this isn’t a Grave Market guy?”
“I’m sure she will be well taken care of, Reese. We can always look for another one.”
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime Potential. Shawn, you don’t know,” Reese says. “You don’t know how foolish this is. I wish you would have spoken with me about this first.”
“I’m the owner of her, not you,” Shawn barks back at him. “Remember your place, Reese.”
“What do you mean by that, sir?”
“You know what I mean. You may think you’re on my level, but you are not. I know all about your aunts, Reese. I know some of their dealings are extremely shady, but they’re such valuable figureheads to our hospital that I am willing to turn a blind eye to this unprofessional outburst from an overly emotional boy.”
“I’m not a boy.”
“You’re a former Potential. Your heart bleeds for them just like the rest. And yes, while I can say that Eleven isn’t your ordinary—”
“You can’t sell her. I’ll talk to my aunts. They’ve been looking for a new project. I know… I know they can pay. They will pay.” He sounds rushed. He’s growing desperate.
“I think you need to go,” Shawn says.
“Why? I said they’ll pay! You said you’re a simple man. Take the money. They’ll pay twenty thousand.”
“They wouldn’t. The door is this way.”
“They’ll do it! I’ll call them! Listen to their offer! They’ll give you more—”
“I don’t want their money.”
“So what do you want?” Reese asks. “I’ll pay any price. I’ll give it to you for Grace—” He stops himself short and I swear I hear him gasp. Hands flying up to cover his mouth to mask the admission.
But Shawn hears it.
“What… what did you say?”
“By the grace of God—”
“That is not what you said. You… you called it… her… mine… you called her Grace.”
“It was a mistake.”
“You know her name.”
“I don’t.”
“She told you her true name. The name she promised not to give to anyone but me!” Something pounds hard against a wall and I gasp. “That fucking manipulative bitch!”
“She’s not!”
“Deceitful whore! That name belonged to me! It was mine! Only mine!”
“I swear, Shawn. She… she didn’t tell me. I overheard it. That’s all!”
“That fucking swine! Slut! And you! Get out!”
“Just let me see her once—”
“Get out! I should have suspected. How could I be so dumb? Of course it was all a part of her game… that deceitful, manipulative… monster!”
I flinch and try to scream, but the collar reacts sharply, shocking immediately. Shawn must have changed the settings on the collar to automatic. Dangerous. I’m not supposed to scream or cry out. I’m not even supposed to speak. I fail to suppress a groan and the world flickers as I’m shocked and left panting heavily on the bed as I can only listen to Reese and Shawn’s voices. And now he knows. Shawn knows that Reese knows my true name.
“If you don’t get out, I’m going to call the police.”
“So call them! Call them but just sell her to me.”
“That slut is going where she belongs – I don’t care what happens to her.”
“You don’t mean that,” Reese says. “I know you don’t. I can see it in your eyes.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shawn says in a challenging voice. He is in control of himself again.
“Please, just give her to me. You’ll never see her. You’ll never see me. You’ll never see either of us again,” he says, his voice half-pleading, half threat.
“I won’t ask a second time,” Shawn says. “Get out. I don’t ever want to see you here and I certainly don’t want you seeing my daughter.”
“I wouldn’t even look at that brat again if you paid me,” he says. I want to scream and tell him not to leave, but his heavy footsteps pound against the ceiling.
No.
No.
No!
He’s giving up on me! A door flies open and slams shut. A car starts and peels away. No. He’s gone. He’s not going to help. After everything he’s said… everything he’s done… he can’t stand up for me.
He wouldn’t fight for me. He came, he asked, he begged. Then he was asked to leave and he left. Just like that. I try to let out a cry, but the collar sends out a sharp buzz, silencing me. I want to sob. Despite his failings, I want to see him. One more time before I’m sold overseas to a life I’m not sure I can survive. I don’t want to think about it.
A few days ago, I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live, but if this buyer is who I fear he is, death would have a more merciful ending.
Chapter Eleven
Shawn does not come to visit me again. Maybe he’s too afraid of changing his mind. Maybe he’s afraid he’ll damage me again and risk his sale. More likely he wants to disconnect. He doesn’t want to view me as a person. He doesn’t want to think about what this means for my future. The Grave Market isn’t a joke and, for all those who’ve lived it like Reese and I, only we can say what it’s like.
Reese. I want to see him. I want to see his face. I want to look at him and remember who he once was. He’s only a year older than me and, even though we weren’t supposed to call each other by our ‘true names’, once word spread that the new chubby kid who loved chocolate was named Reese… well… Reese’s Pieces was a natural progression.
He was a weird kid, his stomach always hung over his pants and pushed them forward and he didn’t like to talk to anyone. His evaluations were always the same: he has great potential, but a poor attitude. If he would just take things seriously, he could drop the weight and make something of himself. He just didn’t care about what other people thought. When someone would come and ask him if he’d like a sponsor, he would only look at them with those cold, bla
nk, purple eyes. He didn’t want to change and he wasn’t going to dance like a monkey to receive redemption.
So why was he so different now?
Why was he so obsessed about keeping up his image?
What happened to the chubby boy with chocolate smears on his round cheeks?
The Pieces I remembered wouldn’t back down from a guy like Paulson. He would have ignored him, run downstairs, and… I shake my head. Of course he couldn’t do that. Ever since I overheard him talking through the door that first day, he made it clear that he was always keeping up appearances.
As the hours pass by, the sounds of activity in the house slowly disappear and I’m left in the darkness in silence to contemplate yet another new life. Suddenly, spending a few more months listening to Celia’s whining and putting up with Shawn’s abusive personality doesn’t seem that terrible. I don’t want to go. I lie down in bed and pull the covers up to my face. I may never again have a moment’s privacy where I’m going.
I may not have much longer to live where I’m going.
And just as I have become resigned enough to attempt to sleep, the faint squeal of squeaking brakes sounds from the street. For some reason this sound unnerves me. I sit up and strain my ears. Could this be my buyer, arriving early? Probably not. A neighbor coming home late? If anyone in this neighborhood drove a car with squeaking breaks they might have died of shame. A thought strikes me: A collector. News of this transaction is almost certainly filtering around and now people know that an Eleven worth twenty-thousand dollars is in this home. As if to confirm this thought, the sound of one of the basement windows rattling reaches my ears. I don’t cry. Acting like a frightened child on top of what my body’s screaming at the top of its lungs won’t help anything. I have to be strong.
Reese has given up on me.
Shawn wishes to discard me.
Celia never cared enough to even look at me.
I’m alone.
Several things happen all at once and my mind struggles to catch them all. The basement window… there’s fumbling, but it doesn’t open. I can only assume that in Shawn’s paranoia he has locked everything up tight. But before even the smallest wave of relief can wash over me, glass shatters and my heart stops. There’s faint movements going on upstairs, but that isn’t what concerns me. Not anymore. A body slides and scrapes through the window and crunches onto the glass-covered floor. All I can focus on are the sounds beyond the door.
Someone is here with me.
The footsteps are heavy as they scuff across the carpet, sending butterflies through my stomach. I want to scream, but the collar’s set to keep me quiet. There’s nothing I can do. The ominous steps continue to come closer and I wrap the blanket around my head and dive to hide under the bed. It’s pointless because of the leash, but I don’t care. I peek through the blanket as the door flies open.
A heavy set of boots much like Griff’s fill my vision.
“You can’t hide,” a man’s low voice says. I shiver and want to scream. I’m crying as the steps approach. “Come out,” he says. The boots pause. “Get out from there. Don’t make me…” He trails off as I shift under the bed. I need to get to the corner. Where’s Shawn?
The person goes down on one knee and a thickly gloved hand reaches for me, roughly grabbing the leash and dragging me out from the bed. I scream and weakly fight against the pain from the shock collar. Nothing Shawn’s collar can dish out will be worse than what will happen in a few hours on The Grave Market.
“Shut... up. Shut up,” the voice says in an irritated tone. The owner of the voice is easily able to drag me out from under the bed though I’m still writhing and attempting to scream in a harmony of desperation and pain. I try to catch the voice, hoping and begging for familiarity, but there is none. The owner is rough and his face is fully masked. He’s wearing all black with a huge trench coat. “Get up, you. Get up.” My heart plummets to my stomach and I fight the urge to retch all over myself.
“P-please?” I mouth with tears still running down my cheeks. I swallow the bile that threatens to spill as the owner only gets rougher. “Please…” the collar bites in response and I can barely get out another word.
“Shut up.”
“No. Please—”
“I said shut up,” the voice growls back in irritation. “You’re not staying here.”
The tears grow more violent as my new captor grows more impatient. I want to ask who he is and where he’s taking me, but days of shockings and hunger and fear have left me weak and disoriented. My body no longer knows whether to be panicked or horrified. Sleepy or scared. A chill creeps down my spine mixing in with the sting of the collar every time I let out a sound.
The man tightly grips my arm and I cry out. More pain comes, but he doesn’t care.
“Hold still.” He reaches into a pocket of his coat and pulls out a wicked-looking tool that looks like a medieval torture device.
My eyes widen at the tool and I prepare to scream yet again.
“Shut up,” he warns. “Stop talking… just… shut up.” A loud sound above us makes his body stiffen under his long black trench coat. “We don’t have much time. Hold still,” he grunts and brings his torture tool towards my neck. I squirm despite what he says and he easily pins me against the wall. “Hold still or you’re going to regret it.”
There is pressure and stinging at my neck and suddenly my neck is free and the basement’s cool air brushes against it. The collar falls down to my feet and I’m too surprised to say anything to the stranger and instead just gape and rub my sore neck. Three distinct stomps come from the floor above and we both look up.
Shawn calls down. “Attention criminal in my basement, I will shoot whoever is down there if you don’t surrender in the next ten seconds.”
“He means it,” I start to say.
“I know he does,” he growls, reaching for my arm. “We’ll get the cuffs off later. But for now... we’ve got to go!”
He yanks and pulls me toward the door. I can’t believe I’m leaving the basement without the collar. I drag my feet and the man in front of me whips his head around. I can’t see his face, but his movements let me know he’s surprised.
“What are you doing?”
“Who are you?”
“Are you out of your damn mind? I’m here to rescue you! We need to go—”
“Please. I just need to know who you are,” I plead. “I can’t go back… I need to know that I’m going someplace better—”
“You need to trust me!” he hisses, pulling me. “Come on, I’m getting you out of here.”
“I have to know,” I say as he drags me out of the doorway. Shawn is talking on the phone to the police upstairs about taking the law into his own hands. “I won’t go with a stranger.”
“We’re wasting time—”
“I need to know—” I stop talking when the man pulls up his mask and slams his lips against mine. The sweet aroma of chocolate fills my nose and his lips fit together with mine. The kiss is rough and desperate, but I suddenly know. His mouth pulls away from mine and his eyes are wide.
“Will you stop asking questions now, Grace?” His voice is no longer gruff.
I nod and he pulls again. As we move through the basement, I hear more muffled voices and Shawn barking at Celia to stay in her room. To listen for once.
“Damn...” Reese moans. “We’re out of time.”
“You can’t get caught. I can’t get caught.” Fear and worry are written all over my face.
“You’re not… I don’t think,” Reese says. His confidence wavers only slightly before he pushes aside his long coat to expose a pistol at his waist. “No one will ever have you unless it’s me.” He pulls the mask down over his face.
“What if it’s Shawn?” I ask as he backs us towards the basement window he just shattered. The glass bites into my feet, but my body can barely register the pain.
“No one will have you, Grace,” he says as he continues to back up. I can st
ill hear the sounds from upstairs but, as our backs press against the wall, it grows silent. “You first,” he says, reaching forward to grab my hips. “When you get out, run to the white van.”
“W-what?”
“Do as I say,” he says. “Trust me and do what I tell you.”
“Are you coming, too?”
“I’ll be right behind you,” he says, pushing me up towards the window. I grab the ledge and push through the poorly smashed glass. “The window,” Reese mutters. “Hold on…” He trails off as I smash through the remaining glass with my bare hand. I won’t make Reese always do all the hard work. I want to help. “Good girl,” he mutters. “Now go!” He pushes one final time and I glide through the window. Pieces of glass bite my exposed skin, but nothing will stop me.
I’m free. I’m free!
I look back at Reese.
“The van,” he hisses, as he pulls himself up. “Get to the van!”
I don’t wait this time when he orders. My bare feet pound through the slush and snow and I hardly notice the cold. I pump my legs as hard and as fast as I can and I’m nearly to the van when the roar of a gunshot pierces the night air. I try to turn back but slide on the slushy frozen ground and slam into the side of the van. I try to call to Reese but the door slides open and a hand grips my arm with surprising strength and begins to pull me inside.
“Let me go!” I shout weakly, wondering if my voice even carries to my captor’s ears.
“No,” a voice warns. It’s low, but feminine. “He knows what he’s doing.” I stare towards the basement window as the woman pulls me fully into the van. There’s no sign of Reese. Another gunshot echoes through the air and I scream and claw at the hand that holds me.
“He knows what he’s doing. If you leave this spot you’ll ruin everything,” the voice hisses in my ear.
Suddenly I see a dark shape appear at the basement window and I stop struggling. The woman releases me and jumps into the front seat as the shape gets to its feet.
I cry out as the car shifts into gear. The car starts to move slowly. “What are you doing? We can’t leave him! He’s there!”
The driver doesn’t stop. “You think I don’t have eyes?” she snaps. “Shut up until we get out of here.”
