by Ford, Hannah
My heart was racing, and I took a deep breath. I needed a plan.
“What are they going to do to us?” I asked. I told myself that whatever she said, I was not going to react.
Mikayla swallowed, then looked at me. “We’ll be dressed and readied, then brought to the stage. Men will have a chance to bid on us, and then we’ll be their property for the night. If no one bids, we will become property of the club.”
She reached out and grabbed my arm, then, tightly, and her eyes got wide. She slid them side to side quickly, almost like she was looking for someone in the room, even though the two of us were alone. “You need to get me out of here,” she whispered. Her lips were dry and cracked, and that, along with the hollowness of her cheeks. “They don’t… some of them never come back.”
“Some of who never come back?” I asked her.
“The girls.” She gripped me tighter, her nails digging into my skin. I looked down at the marks she was leaving on me, the same way she’d left those marks on my ankle.
“What girls?”
“The other girls in the auction. They get held here, then after a while, they get taken away. They never come back. Ever.”
“Where do they go?”
“They get killed,” she said. “I know it. They know too much. I know too much.”
“Who kills them?” I asked. “Professor Worthington?”
“Who?” She frowned.
“The man who brought me in here,” I said. “Is he the one who kills them?” Was this how Professor Worthington curated his victims? He brought them to Force, subjected them to sexual slavery for a few weeks, then took them somewhere to be killed? It would explain how he’d been able to kill Dani and Nora – they had both been to Force with Noah.
But something about that felt very off – Dani and Nora hadn’t been missing before they’d been killed, and what about Katie? As far as I knew, she had no connection to Force. Her only connection to Force had been through Noah.
Had Noah lied to me? Had he been with Katie? Had he taken her to Force? I remembered those emails, the way Katie’s friend Maddy had insisted Katie had been involved with an older man. Had it been Noah?
Mikayla shook her head. “I’ve never seen the man who brought you here before in my life. It’s always – ”
She stopped talking as the door behind us opened. Professor Worthington stood there, a devilish smile on his face.
“It’s time,” he said. He’d taken his leather jacket off, and now he was wearing a tight black t-shirt. His hair was slicked back, and there was color high on his cheeks. He seemed excited for whatever was about to happen.
His eyes flicked over to Mikayla, who swallowed nervously and instantly bowed her head, looking down at the floor. She bent her knees a tiny bit, almost like she was about to kneel, but wasn’t sure if she should.
Professor Worthington walked over to her, reached down and grabbed the top of the tank top she was wearing, yanking the material down until her breast was exposed. He fondled her, grabbing her nipple and twisting it hard.
She moaned.
“Do you like that?” Professor Worthington demanded.
“If it pleases Sir, then yes.”
“It does please me.” He dropped her and walked over to me, handed me the bag he was holding. “Put this on.”
“What?”
“Put. This. On.”
I opened the bag and looked inside. My heart sank as I realized it was the outfit I’d seen the other girls in the auction line wearing.
A tiny loincloth and a matching bra top.
My eyes filled with tears as I thought about putting the clothes on. I didn’t want to be exposed to anyone like that, ever, much less a roomful of strange men and a man who was about to kill me.
Anger welled inside of me.
How dare this man treat women like this?
“No.” I shook my head. “No. I’m not doing it.” I dropped the bag onto the floor and kicked it toward the wall.
Mikayla glanced up from where she was standing with her gaze still directed toward the dusty floor. A look of horror passed over her face and she gave me a tiny shake of her head.
No, she was saying. Don’t do that.
But I didn’t care.
I wasn’t going to be put into the auction. At least not willingly. Why would I do that? So someone could win me, so someone could grope me, rape me, tie me up? Was that what was going to happen to me? Or was I going to be property of the club? Was I going to be taken hostage, my wrists tied as men had their way with me after forcing me to serve them drinks?
No fucking way.
Noah, I thought. God, Noah, where are you?
Professor Worthington looked down at the bag on the floor. “Pick it up.”
“No,” I said forcefully. Then I did the only thing that I thought I could do. I spit at him.
A shock look came over his face as my saliva hit his cheeks.
The retribution was swift and painful.
He reached out and backhanded me across the face, so hard that the bones in my face rattled and my knees buckled.
I fell to the floor, landing hard on my elbow.
“Fuck you,” I said, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt.
He kicked me in the stomach, then reached down and grabbed me under my arms, pulled me up and pushed me against the wall so hard I could feel my spine crack.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I had to do that to you. But you need to learn your place, Charlotte. You need to learn what it is to be a worthless female. And going into the auction is part of that.” His voice was tender now. I could feel him, hard in his pants against me. I whimpered, my eyes filling with tears. “Now put the outfit on,” he said. “Or I’ll have to make you do it.” His eye twitched. “And as much as I would enjoy it, that kind of thing will have to be saved for later.”
He ground his pelvis against me, making sure I could feel how hard he was.
“Girl,” he called to Mikayla. “Get me that bag.”
She scurried over and brought him the discarded bag, which he then passed to me. This time, I took it.
Professor Worthington kissed me softly on my forehead. His lips were dry, and yet somehow I could still feel slick moisture on my skin after he pulled away. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, Charlotte. I’m sorry I have to, but God, I’m going to enjoy it.”
Then his eyes turned cold, and I was almost sure I could see the blackness of his soul reflected in his irises.
This is evil, I thought in wonder. Right now I am looking at pure evil. I’d always been logical about things like God and the devil, and I’d grown up in a household that was not particularly religious, although sometimes my mother would dress me up and haul me off to church for some cousin’s christening. But in that moment, I was sure God existed. Because without God there could be no devil, and I was sure the devil was in this room, in this very moment.
Professor Worthington pulled his knife out, as a reminder that he had it and would use it if he had to.
Then he tipped himself back on his heels, almost like he was rocking. “This,” he said giddily, “is going to be fun.”
***
He made me change in front of him.
He made me pull off every article of clothing.
One.
By.
One.
I tried to put the costume on over my bra and panties, but he wouldn’t allow it.
He made me take my bra off, made me step out of my panties.
“Nice,” he said, grinning so wide I could see a filling in the back of his mouth. Then he turned to Mikayla. She was also getting dressed in a loincloth and tiny bra, but the Professor’s eyes had been carefully trained on me the whole time. “Look at her,” he demanded of Mikayla now. “Would it pleasure you to please her?”
“Only if it pleased you, Sir.”
He looked back and forth between us, like he was considering whether or not to make th
e two of us engage in something.
But then he shook his head. “No time,” he said with a sigh, like he was talking about leaving a party early and not forcing to women to engage in perverted sexual acts.
When I was dressed, the professor made me put on high black stiletto shoes with a heel so narrow I was afraid it would snap under me.
Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a red lipstick, reached over and lined my lips with it, pushing the makeup hard into my skin.
“You’re my doll,” he said. “My doll, my doll, my doll.” His eyes were glassy as he chanted, and I wondered briefly if he was dropping in and out of a trance-like state. I’d heard of things like that happening when killers got close to their kill. They would get so worked up and stimulated that they almost couldn’t take it.
Stay cognizant of it, Charlotte, I heard Noah’s voice in my ear. It’s something you could use if you need to. Wait until his guard is down and see if you have a chance to make a move.
Professor Worthington slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
“Girl,” he called to Mikayla.
She came running over, and he handcuffed us together.
“I wish you didn’t have to be cuffed to this piece of trash,” he said to me. “She’s property of the club. But I need to make sure you don’t try to run. If you ran from me, it would break my heart.”
We followed him out the door of the mock schoolroom, and began walking with him down the dark hallway. The plain cement walls soon gave way to the swirling abstract pattern of blood red and black that made Force so confusing and sinister. And yet the pattern somehow calmed me – it was something familiar, something that reminded me of Noah.
I was also surprised to find that with every step toward the reverberating music, I was beginning to feel stronger. My thoughts were clearer, my legs sturdier. I took quick stock of myself.
My cheek was swollen and sore from where I’d been hit, my face scratched from where Professor Worthington had sliced it with his fingernail. But my arms and legs were losing the heaviness they’d felt, and my head was losing that cloudy feeling it had had.
I was more aware, and felt less like I was moving in a dream state.
Be careful, Noah’s voice warned in my ear. Don’t let him know you’re feeling better. He will drug you again if he thinks you’re getting too strong.
I suddenly felt panicked at the thought of being drugged again, even though I’d thought just a little while ago it would have been a welcome relief.
Do you think he’ll drug me again because I spit on him?
No, Noah answered. That excited him. He’s already forgotten about it.
I closed my eyes tight. I love you, Noah, I thought. I love you so much.
This time, there was no reply, and I wondered if he’d really been with me like I thought, or if perhaps it had been the drugs that had made me think I was hearing his voice. Was I ever going to see him again? I wondered. Would he know how much I loved him, how much I cared about him, how I would have stood by him no matter what?
We were getting closer to the main room of Force now, and I could hear the familiar cacophony of the music and the men screaming.
Was there someone there who could help me? I wondered. If I asked for help, would it be given to me?
No, Noah told me. No, Charlotte. It will be all up to you.
A few seconds later, Professor Worthington made a sharp turn and began leading Mikayla and I down a narrow passageway that was cut into the stone walls.
It was so narrow I was afraid for a moment that I wasn’t going to be able to fit through it. My shoulders brushed against the sides of the walls, and the air was thick and heavy, the kind of air that felt like it hadn’t been circulated in months. I tried to take deeper breaths, but that made it feel worse. Gritty particles floated through the air and slid into my lungs, coating my tongue.
Claustrophobia clawed at my throat, and my vision swam in front of me.
Relax, Noah said. You’re fine. You can breathe. It’s not real, it’s just a panic attack.
His voice grounded me, and the rubber band that was around my chest loosened just a tiny bit.
We walked a little further, and Professor Worthington led us up a flight of stairs that was just as narrow as the corridor we’d just come through.
When we reached the top of the steps, Mikayla stumbled and fell, her hand yanking me and pulling me down with her.
I hit the concrete on my hip, but the steps had been covered with strips of black rubber padding, and they broke my fall.
But Mikayla wasn’t as lucky. She’d smacked her chin against the edge of the top step. She cried out in pain and raised her hand to her mouth.
“What the fuck?” Professor Worthington demanded, turning around to see what was going on.
“She fell,” I said irritably, turning to Mikayla. “Are you okay?” I asked her. “Let me see.”
Her deep blue eyes were wide with fear.
I reached out and took her hand, pulling it gently away from her face. I almost gasped out loud. Her whole bottom lip had been split, and thick sticky blood dripped in a crooked line down her chin.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re okay.” I reached down and ripped a piece of cloth from the loincloth I was wearing and pressed it to her face. It wasn’t the most sanitary thing to do, but there was nothing else around and I needed to stop her bleeding.
“Come on,” Professor Worthington said. “Let’s go.”
I turned to look at him. “She’s hurt.”
“I don’t give a shit.”
“She can’t go into the auction like this.”
“She’ll go into the auction however I’ll say she’ll go into the auction. Now get up!” He was getting crazed, and he reached back into his boot and pulled out his knife. He slashed it through the air, inches from my back.
I looked at Mikayla. “Come on,” I said, taking her hand and pulling her back up. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get you some help.”
It was all a lie.
I had no idea if we were going to be okay, and honestly, if I had to put my money on it, I would guess that we weren’t.
I clung to the hope that perhaps whoever won me in the auction would be a kind man, a man who would listen to me if I told him that I was in trouble, that there was another girl here who was in trouble too, that he needed to help get both of us out of here.
I knew it wasn’t likely, especially since Mikayla had been put into the auction numerous times and hadn’t found anyone to help her yet. But she’d been so conditioned to be submissive, I wondered if perhaps she hadn’t done enough to try to tell people she was in trouble.
Yes, she’d told me - - but the other night when she’d served Noah and I our drinks, why hadn’t she tried to alert us to the fact that she was being held here against her will? Was she that scared of getting in trouble with the club? Surely every person who came to Force wasn’t as much of a psychopath as Audi James or Professor Worthington.
“Move,” Professor Worthington growled.
He pulled us onto the landing at the top of the flight of stairs, which opened into a dark backstage area. As soon as we were out of that narrow space, relief flowed through me, and I gulped in the fresh air.
But my relief was short-lived as I took in the scene in front of me.
Girls stood around, all of them dressed in the same skimpy outfit Mikayla and I were wearing. They were gorgeous, all of them with perfect bodies and long hair, their wrists cuffed together. Some of them were draped against the wall, some of them were drugged and sprawled around the perimeter of the room, their eyes flat and glassy.
I watched in horror as one of them writhed on the floor and foamed at the mouth, her long red hair stuck to the side of her face with her own saliva. She’d obviously been overdosed.
Three shirtless men dressed in tight black leather pants and black leather masks walked around with long w
hips, making sure none of the slaves got out of line. Every so often the sound of the whip snaking through the air would echo through the room, ending with a smack as the Dungeon Masters whipped the girls for seemingly no other reason than their own sick sport.
“Ty,” Professor Worthington called to one of the men.
The tallest of the three came over, his chest hard and muscular, his skin smooth and tan, his six-pack narrowing into the perfect V of his hips.
“Keep these two apart,” the professor said, gesturing to me and Mikayla.
Ty nodded, and without a word, reached down and uncuffed me from Mikayla. Then, as if from out of nowhere, another Dungeon Master came over and whisked Mikayla away, leading her behind a dark red curtain. Drops of blood fell from her mouth, leaving a trail of crimson in her wake.
“Wait!” I yelled. “You can’t take her back there, she’s hurt!”
The Dungeon Master ignored me, instead taking my handcuffs and hooking me to a shackle that hung from the wall.
Professor Worthington pushed up against me again, then kissed me hard on the lips.
Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed as hard as I could, willing myself not to throw up. If I threw up, they would leave me like that, covered in my own vomit. And it would make things that much worse.
“I’ll see you soon,” Professor Worthington said when he pulled away. His breath smelled like dust and garlic. “You be a good girl.”
He turned and walked away, slipping back down the staircase. Was he really just going to leave me here? What would he do? Wait until someone purchased me in the auction, let them use me, and then kill me?
I could feel the time slipping away, could feel my chances for escape dwindling.
I had to tell someone what was happening to me, I had to at least try to make someone listen. All it would take was one person, one person who would believe what I was saying, one person who would try to help me.
As soon as the back of Professor Worthington’s black leather jacket disappeared down the stairs, I started to scream.
“Help me!” I yelled, straining my handcuffs against their shackles and banging my fist against the wall. “Help me, I’m being held here against my will!”
