Number Thirteen

by Bella Jewel

  “No,” I whimper. “Please.”

  He keeps pushing until my weak knees can do nothing but buckle. I feel my body press against what seems to be a table, though there’s a pillow that cushions my face. I turn my head to the side, and tears leak out of my eyes and slide down my cheeks as I feel myself becoming frenzied. William’s hands are at my shirt, and slowly, he raises it. I feel it peeling off my moist, damaged skin, and I cry out in pain.

  Is he going to hit me again?

  At the thought of that, I suddenly thrash, and try to launch myself off the bed. He presses me down by my shoulders, and murmurs a hushed, “Be still, frumusețe.”

  I know what that word means now; he’s calling me “beauty.” I drop my head in exhaustion, and my body sinks into the table. I’m completely stripped of any fight. I just can’t bring my weak body to battle him.

  His hands are on my skin, and he skims his fingertips over my welting skin. I yelp as it burns beneath his touch. He hushes me again, and I hear him rustling around before his fingers return, only this time they’re covered in a cool balm. The relief is instant, and my entire body shudders. He moves his fingers over me until my skin is cool and completely covered, then he moves my shirt down and lifts me up.

  Once again I find myself on his lap, with his arms around me. It’s obviously some sort of trust exercise, but what I don’t know is why he wants me to trust him? It seems important to him. I have so many questions, but I already know he won’t answer them. Master William answers only what he wants to, and even then it& [eve to him. I#8217;s as if he speaks in riddles. Like he wants us to take ourselves around in circles until we become confused and just stop trying.

  “What do you want with us?” I try anyway.

  He strokes a hand over my arm.

  “Please,” I plead. “Give me something.”

  “Give only to those who give to you, frumusețe.”

  Riddles again.

  “Is that what you want from me? You want me to give myself to you?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Why do you keep my memories from me?”

  “Sometimes memories are best left forgotten,” he murmurs into my hair.

  “It’s not your right to take them.”

  “It’s not your right to have them when they cause nothing more than pain,” he retorts, though his voice is still soft.

  “I cannot give myself to you when you will not tell me why we’re here.”

  He’s silent again, and his finger tangles into my hair. He’s outright refusing to give me any part of him. And why would he? I’m nothing more than a slave to him. I close my eyes, gathering myself.

  “It’s a two-way street,” I say, in a soft voice. “You give me something, I give you something. I’ve given you part of me, by sitting here on your lap. Now, I ask that you answer one question for me. Why thirteen girls?”

  He’s silent for so long I’m sure he’s going to ignore me, and just continue with his stroking until I go crazy and yell at him again. Just as I’m about to open my mouth and protest, he speaks. His voice comes out thick, and full of emotion.

  “I was thirteen the day they stripped my innocence from me, and turned me into t

  his. Now do not ask me questions again unless I give you permission.”

  Turned him into this?

  What’s this?

  My heart aches to know.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WILLIAM

  “You can’t avoid the meeting, Will,” my brother Ben says down the phone.

  “I’m fully aware of that, Ben, but I’ve got pressing things that need to be dealt with right now.”

  “It’s an hour.”

  I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Fine, I’ll head over for an hour.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  I press the phone down, and feel my jaw clenching. Ben is the only family that I’ve got who cares enough to constantly check up on me. He works for my father, and I’m the silent partner who does all my work from here. I’m the one he doesn’t want the world to know about. I’m the child he’s ashamed of.

  I turn to my desk and lift a phone to my ear, dialing George. He answers on the first ring, as he always does.

  “Yes, Master?”

  “I have to go and meet Ben. I’ll be gone for around an hour and a half. I need you to make sure the girls are all secured in their rooms. They’re not to come out until I return.”

  “I can do that, sir.”

  “Thank you, George.”

  I hang up and stand, pulling on my suit jacket and exiting the room. I got out the back door, and walk around to where my car sits in the garage. I’m not one for having someone drive me places. I don’t trus ^eve t0;Fine, t another person enough to let them risk my life by driving me. I unlock the small Audi and slide into the front seat.

  Here goes an hour of my life with a man I despise.

  ~*~*~*~

  WILLIAM

  The meeting is at my father’s business in the middle of the city. It’s a well-established place, and he owns branches throughout the country. I park my car in a reserved spot, and pull on the eye patch I refuse to go in public without. I straighten my shoulders and step out of the car and into the lot. There’s an elevator here that will lead me directly to my father’s receptionist.

  The moment I step into the room, she smiles at me. She always does, and I know it’s out of pity. People always pity the damaged, but what they don’t understand is that we don’t want their pity, we just want to be treated normally. She knows I’m here for my father, so she nods towards his office and murmurs, “They’re waiting for you.”

  I jerk my chin in a sharp nod, and walk into the room. The minute I step in, I see Ben standing by the window, puffing on a cigar. He looks over at me, and his eyes brighten, but behind that brightness I can see the pain he always has in his gaze when he looks at me. I know he blames himself for what happened, and I’ve stopped trying to convince him it wasn’t his fault.

  His hair is cut fairly short, and curls around his ears. He has light-blue eyes, just like...mine. He’s a powerful man, standing at six-foot tall. He’s strong, and well built. He wears a crisp gray suit with a blue tie that brings out the color in his eyes.

  I turn to my father, who is glaring at me. He’s aging now, and his once dark hair is silver. His skin is wrinkling, but his eyes are as stark blue as they always were.

  The man sitting at the table isn’t someone I’ve seen before. He’s older, with a balding head and square glasses. If his stomach gets any bigger, it’ll pop out of the suit that’s straining to keep it in. He doesn’t even acknowledge my presence; he just stares down at the mass of papers in front of him. Ben walks over, clapping me on the shoulder.

  “It’s good to see you, brother.”

  I nod at him. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Stai, Benjamin,” my father rasps, ordering Ben to sit.

  He does. My father’s glare comes back to me, and with a growl, I sit, too.

  “James,” my father begins. “This is my son, Benjamin. He will take over the company when I go. He’s very talented, and I’m sure you’ll find him suited for the tasks we have set out for him.”

  The man reaches over the table, and shakes Ben’s hand. “Good to meet you, son.”

  “And this is Will.” My father looks me in the face as he says to the man, “He’s a silent partner.” Not his son. Never his son. “But he comes to these things to be kept in the loop.” Father’s voice is empty, as though I’m no more than a piece of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

  He doesn’t refer to me as his son because he’s ashamed of me; he always has been. My chest coils tightly, and the urge to reach over and grasp his collar, strangling him until all the breath leaves his body, is quite strong.

  “My name is William,” I growl, glaring at my father. He snorts, and waves me off.

  There’s not a person around, asid c arer’se from Ben, who calls me Will. My father knows this
, yet he does it anyway, because he enjoys bringing me pain. The man turns his bored expression to me, and studies my face. “What happened to you?”

  I stiffen, but like every other time that question is asked, Ben steps in.

  “That’s none of your concern. We’

  re here to discuss the finances, so let’s get started so we can leave, yes?”

  I stare at Ben, and he gives me a warm smile before we turn and begin going over the finances.

  It can’t end soon enough.

  CHAPTER NINE

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  Lying on this bed hurts, it hurts so badly. By the time I get back to my room and shower for the night, I am utterly exhausted. I crawl into bed after eating dinner, and I cry out when the sheets feel like sandpaper against my skin. I roll to my side, and throw the blanket over my body so my back is exposed to the cool air. Even though the pain is awful, I still find myself spinning quickly into the deep sleep that takes me each night.

  We’re woken early the next morning, with the guards swinging our door open and barking at us to get up. Slowly, I force my sore, aching body out of bed and I stare over at the door with blurry eyes. “You girls are doing the kitchen as well as the washing today. Because of your stupid mistake to try and escape yesterday, you’re taking over the chores for group three today.”

  Great.

  Like zombies, we all drag our bodies from bed, our eyes heavy, our heads hanging. We eat, dress, and then head out with the guards. As we walk down the halls, we pass the others girl’s rooms. I see some of their doors are open, and they’re sitting on their beds. I stare in at them, feeling oddly connected, even though we’ve not had a chance to interact at all since the first day. I guess it’s just an emotional connection because we all understand something about the other person.

  We are all in the same boat.

  We’re set to work with the washing first, and between thirteen girls, guards and a master, that washing isn’t a small amount. We set out with a task each—one washes, one dries, one irons, and one folds. It takes a bit of time between each, so we sweep floors and tidy up as we wait. By the time lunch rolls around, my back is throbbing to the point where I feel ill. I know I can’t stop, though, so I push myself to continue.

  In the kitchen, I can only see one camera, which is good to know. There’s also a massive walk-in pantry, so every now and then we slip in there and whisper to each other. It’s mostly the other girls checking to see if I’m okay, but at least we can talk without being seen. Obviously we are figured out, though, because a guar

  d comes into the room instead of waiting outside, and he stands watching us for the rest of the day.

  There’s just nowhere to escape.

  ~*~*~*~

  WILLIAM

  “Girls, kneel, please,” I order.

  Nine girls go to their knees slowly, their heads bowed. I stare down at them, and I know they’re frightened. I understand that. I respect that. The only way for them to understand what I’m doing here is to learn to trust that I know best. I do not want them to fear me; fear is a weak man’s way of getting what he wants. I don’t use fear as a tactic to gain. Instead, I am trying to teach them that I f`ɽing isnhave their best interests at heart.

  “It’s been a few days now, and you’re all doing very well. I know you understand where you came from, and you understand your lives before this were less than desirable.”

  They don’t move. They don’t need to. They understand what I’m telling them. This group of girls knows about their lives. I’ve allowed that. The group I have selected for myself don’t. They’re far more damaged; it’s up to me to keep those memories from them until I feel they’re ready to accept them fully without breaking down. This is one of the few chances I have to speak to the other nine girls while my group are handling all the chores.

  “I’m allowing you to ask me one question each. It’s the only chance you will have. One at a time, you can ask me a question, and I will answer it.”

  George walks over, and he taps Number One on the head. She lifts her eyes, staring at me with a look of confusion. I’m in the shadows, so they’re only able to see a very small amount of me.

  “Ask your question, Number One. It will be your only chance.”

  “W...w...what do you want with me?”

  “That answer is simple; I want to give you a better life. But to achieve that, you need to learn your place.”

  “Number Two,” George says.

  “Are you going to...r...r...r...rape me?”

  That word makes me sick. I would never, ever inflict that kind of pain on another person.

  “No, I am not,” I grind out, trying to keep my voice steady.

  “Number Four.”

  “I w...w...want to know about my younger sister. Is she...d...d...d...dead?”

  My chest clenches. I promised I’d answer any of their questions, but not all of them have good results.

  “Are you sure you want the answer to that, Number Four?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “Then I’m sorry, but yes. Your younger sister is gone.”

  She makes a pained sound. I take a deep breath, and move on.

  “Number Five?”

  “Are you going to kill us?” she asks, her voice stronger than the rest.

  “Of course not.”

  It’s going to take longer for them to understand this than I’d anticipated.

  “Number Six?”

  “Will we be hurt?”

  “That depends,” I say quietly. “If you misbehave, then yes, you will be punished. Sometimes that punishment will hurt. As I’m sure you know, Group Four was punished yesterday. One of the girls received twenty lashes to her back for trying to escape. If you don’t wish this to happen, then you need to follow all my rules.”

  She makes a whimpering sound, but nods her head and lowers it.

  “Number Eight?”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “Number Eight,” George says again.

  “I have no questions,” she mutters.

  “Are you sure about that?” I say, curious.

  “Yes,” she bites out. “I’m sure.”

  “Very well,” I say. “You won’t get your chance again.”

  “Number Nine?”

  “Why aren’t we allowed to see you?”

  I flinch. It takes me a moment to be able to answer her as truthfully as I can.

  “You need to earn the right to communicate with me, Number Nine.”

  “Number Ten?” George continues, cutting off her small protest.

  “Can they find us?”

  “Define they?” I urge.

  “Our old masters.”

  I understand her fear. She came from a man who was rather brutal and cruel. She was sold to him a little more than four years ago, but that was long enough for him to change everything about her.

  “No, they cannot find you here.”

  She seems to lose some of the tension in her body.

  “Number Eleven, you’re last,” George says.

  “I have nothing to say to you, you fucking pig.”

  I straighten. Number Eleven is one of the more brutal of the group, but she’s also had quite a hard past.

  “I’ll give you only one chance, Number Eleven. Ask a question, or stay quiet. If you wish to run your mouth off, then you will be punished for it.”

  “So punish me, you sick fuck,” she growls.

  I sigh, rubbing my temples. “George, escort Number Eleven to the main living room. Have her sit with a gag in her mouth, chained to a chair. She will sit and watch as all the other girls walk past her, staring at her, and she will learn and understand that it is rude and disrespectful to bite the hand that feeds you. She will learn that if she wishes to embarrass me in front of a group, I will return the favor. If she does not learn, then she will remain there until she does.”

  “You piece of...”

  She doesn’t get to finish before George
hauls her up and drags her out of the room.

  There’s always one.

  CHAPTER TEN

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  We’ve been here ten days now. Nothing has changed.

  We get up, we do our chores, we go to see the Master, and then we go to sleep, only to start it all over again. To say I’m confused would be putting it mildly. I don’t know why we’re here, or what purpose he has for us. He’s clearly not intent on hurting us, at least, not if we’re behaving, and he’s certainly not going to rape or torture us. So why does he have us? What could he possibly need all these girls for?

  A finger trails over my thigh, and I shiver. It’s not a bad shiver, but a curious shiver. I’m with Master William again tonight, and as always, he’s got me on his lap. He rarely speaks, and if he does, it’s usually in a different language. He murmurs words I don’t understand into my ear while he holds me. The first few times he did this it scared me. Now I seem to find a strange comfort in the words I don’t understand.

  I still fear him though, because there’s something about this situation that warrants a good amount of fear. It’s really the only emotion we understand right now, and so we hang onto it, like it’s the only thing we have control over. He’s unpredictable, and none of us are sure that this isn’t just an act to gain our trust before something worse comes along.

  I don’t remember anything. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, there’s nothing but a fuzzy mess. My memories have been stolen from me, and it’s not likely they’re going to be handed back anytime soon. The fact that they have been so cleverly taken tells me that they’re worth protecting. He doesn’t want me to have them for a reason, and it doesn’t matter how many times I ask him, he refuses to give them back.