by Bella Jewel
I sigh, and my eyes flutter closed.
Of course they did.
CHAPTER TWENTY
WILLIAM
Fire.
It’s like fire. I can feel it eating into my flesh. It’s burning every layer of skin as it moves down my skin, trickling onto my ear like an acidic snake. My own screams do nothing to erase or ease the pain. My vision blurs, and I’m sure I can hear a bubbling sound. Is that my eye? Is that the chemical devouring my skin?
I jerk upright, reaching up and grasping at the skin around my eye. My vision is wavering, and panic is seizing me. It takes a moment for me to realize I’m not being burned again, and that I’m safe. I run my fingertips over the bumpy flesh around my dead eye, and I sigh deeply, trying to steady my pounding heart.
Another nightmare.
That’s all it was.
I throw my legs over the bed and flick the lamp on. I run my hands through my disheveled hair, and swallow the bile that rose in my throat back down. I get to my feet and walk towards the door, opening it and staring out. Even though I know nobody is there. It doesn’t matter. I need to re-confirm that. I need to know that this is my space, that nothing can come in here.
You have control.
They can’t hurt you in here.
No one can.
~*~*~*~
NUMBER THIRTEEN
“My name is Josh, and I’m filling in for Bill while he’s away. I’ll be with you for two days.”
I stare at the temporary guard standing in the room with a cocky smirk on his face. I don’t like him. There’s just something about him. Bill might be hard on us when he needs to be, but he follows William’s orders to complete perfection. He would never do anything he wasn’t allowed to do. This man, he seems like he’s enjoying the fact that he can push around a group of girls.
I don’t like him.
“I’ve been told that you’re in the kitchen today, so I suggest you get up and move. Now.”
I don’t like him.
We get out of our beds and eat our breakfast before dressing and following Josh into the kitchen. We get started as soon as we get in, doing our usual duties. We’re with a few of the others girls, and we all chat quietly as we work. We’re all used to each other now, and some of us are even forming nice friendships.
“Shut up.”
I hear Josh bark at us as he steps into the kitchen, and my blood boils. Bill let us talk—so long as we did our work, he let us talk. This man, he’s being a complete jackass. I glare at him, and his eyes widen. I turn back to my preparations, ignoring the feeling of his eyes burning into the side of my head.
We work through lunch, and when the day is over, Josh leads us back to our rooms. He steps in when we all sit on our beds, and I can feel the atmosphere in the room change. What is he doing in here? Why the hell does he think he can come into this space and just stand there?
“You two,” he growls, pointing to Number Seven and Number Twelve. “You’re to go help the other girls deliver the washing to the rooms before you retire for the night.”
Both girls nod, but as they pass me, their eyes look concerned. I don’t blame them; I suddenly feel uneasy. I swallow and wrap my arms around myself, wondering why he sent them out and not me? When they’ve left, Josh turns to me, and he smiles. It’s not a nice smile.
“You know the rules around here, it’s time to shower.”
I shake my head. “No, we do that after dinner.”
“Well, tonight, you’re doing it before dinner.”
My heart begins to pound. I don’t like this; I don’t like it at all.
“Okay,” I whisper, standing and walking into the bathroom.
I can’t wait to get in and shut the door, getting away from him. Only when I turn, he’s standing in the room with me. My eyes widen, and I take a few steps back, feeling panic rise in my chest.
“Why are you in here?”
“I’ve been told the rules. You’re not to be trusted alone in the shower.”
“Bill doesn’t come in with us anymore, he waits outside.”
“Well, Bill knows you. I do not. I don’t trust you. You might try to pull a fast one over me. Now shower.”
“But...”
He steps forward, and his hand lashes out and connects with my face in a hard slap. I cry out and my hand flies up to my aching cheek. Tears form in my eyes as I stare in horror at him.
“Now, get into the shower.”
I lift my eyes to look up at the camera on the door. It doesn’t face the shower, but it does face the open part of the room, especially the window. It’s facing away, which means whatever is happening in here right now can’t be seen. Josh steps toward me, and I cover my chest protectively.
“Just leave.”
“I beg your pardon?” he mutters, reaching out and curling his fingers around my arm.
He drags me in close and leans down.
“I saw you glaring at me in the kitchen, thinking you’re better than me, thinking you’re invincible around here. Well, let me tell you...you’re not.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I was just...”
He cuts me off by slamming my body against the outside wall of the shower. My heart leaps into my throat, and I begin to panic. His hands slide down the sides of my body, and I try to cry out but he presses a hand over my mouth.
“I heard you are the smart one, the one who can’t keep her mouth closed. I heard you enjoy punishments.”
Oh, God.
I shake my head from side to side, squirming to try and get out of his grip.
“I like the bad ones.” He grins down at me. “It turns me on.”
No.
No.
I lift my foot and connect with his shin. He growls, and lets go long enough for me to run into the view of the camera. He obviously hasn’t seen it, because he charges over, taking hold of me and shoving his hand back over my mouth as I begin to scream. He forces me down to my knees, and shoves my body over the bath. He takes hold of my shirt, jerking it up.
Oh God, no.
I scream behind his hand, thrashing as best I can, but he doesn’t stop. He slides his fingers up until his hand is cupping my breast. He squeezes it hard, and then his mouth finds my neck. He trails a wet, sloppy kiss down the side, and I feel vomit rise up in my throat.
Why isn’t anyone helping me? Where is William?
He shuffles about, and I try to take the moment to fight him but I’m too tiny, and he’s too strong. He slaps my face so hard I see stars, and while I’m dazed, he pulls his erection out of his pants. Just seeing it has my stomach coiling, and I begin to dry-retch and tremble.
“Oh, stop your trembling, God, so pathetic,” he growls, shoving us down.
“Please,” I beg.
“Just stroke it, I promise it won’t take long.”
I’m going to be sick.
He curls his fingers around my hand and tugs it towards that...that...thing. I don’t have long; I have to stop him. I know as well as I’m sure he does that he’s not just going to force me to stroke him. He’ll want more. He’ll take more of me. The moment I feel him put my hand on his erection, I muster up everything inside me, and I scream.
I scream so loudly it echoes in the small space.
Please.
Someone help me.
~*~*~*~
WILLIAM
I spin around in my chair, lifting the remote to flick through the channels. We got a temporary guard on today, Josh, while Bill went out of town for a few days. I’ve been keeping a check on him all day, and so far he seems okay. I flick through the kitchen and living room cameras—all seems fine in those. I flick to the bedrooms, and most of the girls are sitting, eating.
When I get to Number Thirteen’s bedroom, I see it’s empty.
“Sir!”
I turn with a puzzled look on my face, wondering where the girls are. George is at my door, his face frantic. I get to my feet quickly.
“What is it?�
��
“Number Thirteen is screaming from inside her bathroom. We can’t get the door open.”
I turn quickly, flicking the cameras over to the bathroom. What I see has my stomach coiling and rage building in my body. I turn quickly and I barrel out of the room, tearing down the halls quickly, skidding to a stop at Number Thirteen’s room. I shove the door open, and then I charge towards the bathroom door. I can hear her crying. Goddammit. I rattle the lock. It won’t open. I didn’t bring the key. I lift my leg, and I kick it hard.
Three swift kicks have it busting open.
My eyes turn to Josh, who has now dropped Number Thirteen and is scurrying to his feet, tucking his dick back in his pants. I stalk towards him, fists clenched, panting with rage. I’ll kill him. No one touches my girls. No one forces themselves onto my girls. No one. I catch a glimpse of Number Thirteen, and she’s sitting, staring at her hand like it’s on fire. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s trembling. She looks up at me, and her voice breaks, “You let him hurt me.”
My entire body stiffens.
I let him hurt her.
Goddammit, I let him hurt her.
I don’t have time to stop. I will make this better for her, but for right now, I have to make him wish to God he’d never come into my home and taken advantage of my girls. I lunge towards him, catching him around the throat. I squeeze hard.
“It wasn’t what it looked like!” he yells, gasping for air. “She called me in here.”
This causes me to take his head and slam it onto the side of the basin. I hear his skull crack, hear Number Thirteen scream, and I see the blood beginning to pour from the split skin on his head. Josh twists his body, driving a punch into my stomach. I take a few steps back, growling. He charges towards me, and I duck out of the way at the last minute. He launches his body at me from behind, and his hand catches hold of my eye patch, tearing it clean off.
I spin to him, gripping his shoulders and bringing my knee up into his groin and hitting him twice. He drops to the ground, roaring in pain. I kneel down, capturing his head in my hands. I lift him up, and then I bring my head down, head-butting him so hard he blacks out. I let him go, and his body lands with a thump onto the floor. I rub my head, feeling my world beginning to spin. It takes a lot of force to take a man out with your head.
I turn, not thinking, and I look directly at Number Thirteen.
And I realize I don’t have my eye patch on.
~*~*~*~
NUMBER THIRTEEN
I hear my own gasp as I stare up at him. I’m on the floor, and he’s looming over me, but even from down here I can see his face. My body prickles as I let my eyes travel over him, seeing him for the first time as a whole. He’s just staring at me, his mouth open slightly, panting. Our gazes lock, and for a moment there’s nothing but silence in the room.
Then I turn my eyes to his...oh God.
It makes sense now, as if everything we’ve been through in the past two weeks finally adds up.
He’s damaged.
He’s got one beautiful, blue eye.
He’s got one ugly, marred eye.
I stare at it, and I feel nothing but pure sadness for a moment. What was once a beautiful eye is now white. It’s still there, but it’s clouded over, and the surface of it looks...rough. That’s not all, though. The skin around that eye is damaged. He has no eyebrow; it’s just a mass of scarring. It looks as though he’s been burned. Tears well in my eyes as I let my gaze follow the impaired skin, and I see it goes down to his ear.
It takes up a little less than a quarter of his beautiful face, but the quarter that is ruined...is just that...ruined. His skin, his eye, the entire lot is just a mess.
I can’t tear my eyes away; I can’t stop myself from looking. It’s so hard not to. When presented like this, he looks so different, yet, at the same time, he’s still so incredibly breathtaking. He spins before I can stare at him anymore, and he lifts his eye patch off the ground, pulling it on before turning back to me.
I stare at Josh on the ground, and my body trembles.
He tried to rape me.
Tears prick my eyes, and I feel a part of myself shrink deeply back inside of me. I drop my head and try to stop myself from vomiting. I stare at my hand, the one I so furiously wiped over the towel while William beat Josh. The hand he made me touch him with. I shudder all over, and I wrap my arms around myself, holding on tightly.
“Did he...hurt you?”
I lift my face and stare at William.
My broken William.
“No.”
“And did he...?”
Rape me? That’s what he wants to say.
“No. He made me...t-t-touch him,” I whisper.
William flinches, but he covers it quickly. Instead he reaches out and takes me under the arms, lifting me and pulling me to my feet. With his arms around me like this, I feel warm. He leads me out of the bathroom, and sets me down on my bed.
“W-w-where were you?” I cry when he leans back.
“I’m sorry, Number Thirteen, I didn’t...I’m sorry.”
He straightens, and I can see how much it has bothered him. His control was taken in his own home, and one of us was hurt because of it. He turns his face away, and I can see the burned skin on the side of his face. My heart stutters, and I can’t stop myself from wondering what happened to him.
“What happened to you?” I ask in a small, meek voice.
He jerks, his entire body flinching. He turns to me, and his jaw is tense.
“That’s none of your business.”
I narrow my gaze. “Is it why you have us? Did someone hurt you?”
He flinches again.
“I said, it’s none of your business,” he snarls, his voice dripping with venom.
“Do you think it disgusts me?”
The one eye I can see widens, like my question both confuses and shocks him.
“It should disgust you.”
“Why?” I say, getting to my feet. “Because you’re not perfect? No one is, William. Having a facial flaw does not change what’s inside. It doesn’t make you ugly—only you can make yourself ugly.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and then he leans in close. “Don’t ever speak to me about this again.”
He turns and walks towards the door. Then he remembers the unconscious guard and storms into the bathroom. A moment later he comes out dragging him, and he shoves the guard into the hall. He’s about to leave, but I’m not done. He doesn’t get to run away anymore. I’m tired of this game. I want to know what this is all about; I need to piece this together.
So I hit him with what I know.
“You’re scared that I might not care?” I cry out. “You’re scared that maybe I can see the beauty beyond the scars? They don’t bother me, William. They wouldn’t bother the other girls, either.”
He stiffens at the door, spins around and storms in, taking my shoulders and shaking me angrily.
“One thing I despise is a liar. No one loves a beast, Number Thirteen, and if you ever lie to me again, you will regret it.”
Then he lets me go and charges out of the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WILLIAM
“It’s been well over a week, sir, are you sure you don’t want to see one of them?”
I face the window in my room, staring out at the girls in the yard. They’re playing volleyball. Another reward for doing everything they’ve been told to do.
“I’m not interested,” I growl, clenching the windowsill with my fingers.
“Is something wrong?”
I spin around, snapping, “Nothing is wrong, I just have no interest in seeing them.”
“I understand, sir, I apologize.”
I nod briskly, and return to my seat. He doesn’t get it. No one does. She saw me. She saw the ugliness that lies behind the mask. She saw the monster. She’s seen a part of me I can’t take back. She’s changed how all this is meant to go. No one was ever meant t
o see me. This isn’t how I planned it. My control is being ripped away from me.
“You are still doing the dinner party tomorrow night for your father, yes?”
“Yes. Get the girls onto the menus.”
“Are you having them serve?”
I think about how that went last time, and decide that I’ll give the girls another chance to prove themselves. It has nothing to do with wanting to see her again.
“Yes, the same girls as last time.”
“Yes sir.”
“Is that all?” I mutter.
“Yes.”
He’s gone before I can say anything else. I walk back over to the window and stare down at Number Thirteen. She’s laughing as she dives for the ball. She’s growing happy, she’s learning that I’m here to protect her. They all are. But she knows who I am know; she knows what I am. She tried to tell me it didn’t matter to her.
Liar.
~*~*~*~
NUMBER THIRTEEN
“She is growing up now,” I hear him mutter. “She’s starting to get those tiny hairs on her pussy. I guess it’s time I move on to her little sister.”
My stomach coils. No, not Lanthie. He can’t hurt her like he tries to hurt me. I can’t ever let that happen.
I stare down at my body. I’m blossoming now. I have tiny bumps for breasts, and he’s right, I am growing funny hairs down there. He doesn’t like the hair, and if he doesn’t like the hair, he will hurt my sister. I can’t let him do that.
I run into the bathroom, and I take a razor.
I won’t let him hurt her.
I wake panting with my hand pressed over my heart.
Another dream.
I sit up slowly, and capture my head in my hands. They’re coming more and more now, and I think it’s because we’re not seeing the hypnotist as much anymore. Some nights, we’re even left to sleep without our milk. He’s allowing us trust; he’s allowing us to settle so we can remember who we are. He’s doing it slowly, though, he’s careful.
I don’t like what I’m remembering.
Yet it’s still not enough to piece anything together.
