by Ford, Hannah
I expected something to happen, expected someone to at least look at me, or maybe even punish me. But no one even noticed. The drugged girls writhed and moaned on the floor and the Dungeon Masters glanced at me with disinterest.
Finally, after a few more moments of me screaming, the Dungeon Master, Ty,
walked over, his whip trailing behind him on the ground.
His black mask covered his face, but I could still see his eyes. They were dark brown and deep and they seemed to stare right through me.
“Please,” I said, straining against my shackle. “Please, I’ve been kidnapped. I’m not supposed to be here.”
I thought I saw something flash through his eyes – sympathy, understanding, something – but I wasn’t sure. It could have been just wishful thinking. But then he reached up and unhooked my handcuff from the wall.
“Thank you,” I cried, rubbing my fingers, which were starting to go numb from being held over my head for so long. “Thank you, thank you so much. I need to… I need to leave here, I need to call someone, I need to get picked up. Noah Cutler… do you know him? He’s my boyfriend, he… he’ll know what to do, but first I need to get out of here.”
I was babbling and I couldn’t stop.
Ty took me by the elbow and began leading me toward the huge red curtain on the side of the stage.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Where are we going?”
“Your turn,” he said, his voice dark and full of danger.
He wasn’t helping me after all.
He was taking me to the stage.
It was time for me to be auctioned.
***
Once I was on the stage, the only thing I could feel was the sound.
It surrounded me, the laughing and jeering of the men in the crowd, the heavy bass pumping through the speakers, the moans of the girls backstage. The acoustics pushed it through my body, beating in time with my heart like it was a part of me.
Hands grabbed at me, pushing me further onto the stage.
The auctioneer was standing on the middle of the raised platform, a spotlight shining down on him, making him appear almost ethereal. He was dressed in the same leather pants the Dungeon Masters backstage were wearing.
But this man had no mask.
He was heavily tattooed, his blonde hair pushed back off his forehead, his blue eyes cold as steel.
He looked at me, his nose wrinkling when he saw the bruises on my body and the scratch on my cheek. He circled me, and the spotlight followed him until it shone on me, too. He took my handcuff and attached me to a pole that ran from the floor to the ceiling.
“Number 5488,” he said into his microphone as he did so. His biceps flexed as he clipped me in, and I caught sight of what the tattoo on his chest said – TAKE NO PRISONERS.
“She’s a hefty one,” he said, and the crowd being screaming and yelling. Someone backstage began laughing, one of the girls, a high-pitched crazed sound. A smoke machine pumped smoke onto the stage, and it curled and swarmed around my legs.
“We’ll start the bidding at one thousand dollars,” the auctioneer said, and the crowd booed, seemingly unhappy with the price.
Then the men began screaming and yelling, and I forced myself to gaze out across the room, trying to get a look at the man who would own me for the night.
The first bid came from a voice in the back of the arena, but it was impossible to see anything past the first couple of rows.
After that, there didn’t seem to be any more action.
“Come on,” the auctioneer said, annoyed. He circled me and pulled roughly on my bra top until my breasts were exposed. “This bitch is waiting for someone to teach her how to be the whore that she is.” He pulled back his whip and cracked it against my nipples with a loud snap.
I cried out, my knees buckling from the searing pain that licked my skin.
“Quiet, slave,” the auctioneer commanded.
“Fuck you,” I spat.
It earned me another whip and a roar of approval from the crowd.
After that, the bids began again –two thousand, three thousand, ten thousand– until finally, there were only two people left bidding.
One was in the front of the stage, the other in a back corner.
My arm was aching, my legs were sore, and my skin was raw from the whipping.
I was so tired, and the smoke was making me feel light-headed and dizzy. I struggled to hold onto the pole.
I slid down to the ground, expecting to be snatched up and told I wasn’t allowed to sit.
But to my surprise, the auctioneer let me stay there.
Once I was on the ground, I regretted it. While my legs immediately stopped aching, I was able to get a better look at the crowd. Men leered at me, their eyes glazed with something bordering on lust, but was far more sinister.
Some of them were dressed in leather.
Some of them held paddles or whips.
Some of them ogled my breasts.
Some of them sipped beers and looked bored. These were the ones that scared me the most. If they seemed bored by this, what would it take to get a reaction out of them?
I moaned out loud.
“Twelve thousand dollars,” the Auctioneer was saying. “Going once… going twice…”
“One million dollars,” a voice from the front called, and a gasp went up from the crowd.
I looked in the direction of the voice.
And when I saw who it was, I gasped.
It was Audi James.
Noah’s brother.
He was standing in the front of the stage, his hair slicked back. In one hand, he held a phone.
Noah.
It must have been Noah on the other end of the line.
Noah was going to win me! He was on his way here, he was going to step in and save me. It had to be him. There was no other explanation.
I wanted to scream in relief.
No, Noah’s voice whispered. I’ll be there soon, Charlotte. But you need to pretend you’re playing by the rules, at least for a little while longer. Don’t let them get suspicious.
“Hold on, hold on,” the auctioneer said. He peered down at Audi, the smoke swirling around his heavy black boots. “You are you going to bid one million dollars to own this bitch for the night?”
“Yes,” Audi said, his voice barely able to be heard over the roar of the crowd. “One million dollars.”
“One million dollars…” the auctioneer said, shaking his head in wonderment. “Going once… going twice… sold for one million dollars.”
I watched as Audi spoke into the phone and then ended the call. His eyes met mine, and he gave me a brief, grudging nod. He was confirming that Noah had been the one on the phone.
I sagged against the pole in relief. It was over. I didn’t know how it had happened, but Noah had someone saved me. He’d somehow gotten out of jail, he’d called Audi and made him agree to bid on his behalf.
He must be on his way here. There was no other explanation.
I began to cry, my body shaking with sobs of relief. A million dollars. Noah had spent a million dollars on me, he’d figured out a way to save me, to protect me. Just like he’d always said he would.
I loved him so much.
A pair of arms encircled me and lifted me up from the floor, then unhooked me from the pole.
Someone pushed me off the stage, back toward the backstage area, where Ty the Dungeon Master led me to a narrow black box. It looked like a coffin that was standing upright.
“Waiting area,” he growled.
He pushed me in and slammed the door shut, sealing every bit of light out of the box. It was so black that I couldn’t see my hand in front of me, so narrow that I couldn’t sit down.
Just relax, I told myself. Noah will be here soon, and this will all be over. He’ll get you out of here and then you can call the police. You can tell them that Professor Worthington admitted to killing Katie. Noah will be cleared.
Obviously t
here was some connection between Professor Worthington and Noah, some reason Professor Worthington was trying to frame him. And I was sure Noah would tell me what it was as soon as he got me out of here.
I took in deep breaths, trying to keep myself calm.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. I couldn’t hear anything that was going on around me, and it was disconcerting. If someone forgot I was in here, I would die.
You’re not going to die.
The air was becoming gritty, and with each breath I felt like I was inhaling particles of dust. I imagined them sticking to my throat and lungs, little black specks adding to each other until I was completely black inside.
It was hot, and I tried to fan myself with my hand, but there wasn’t enough room to move.
Finally, the door to the box went sliding open.
I blinked in the light.
I looked up, expecting to see Noah standing in front of me.
But it wasn’t Noah.
It was Professor Worthington.
“Miss me?” he asked.
And then he plunged another needle into my neck before I even had a chance to scream.
***
When I woke up, I was in a dark room, shackled to a metal table.
I was alone.
How long had I been out for? It couldn’t have been long -- I didn’t feel as out of it as I’d had before. Professor Worthington had probably knocked me out just long enough to get me from one place to another without me putting up a fight.
I pulled on my wrists experimentally, but I was strapped down good.
I was still wearing the outfit I’d been in for the auction, and my mouth felt like it had been stuffed with dirty cotton. I swallowed and licked my lips, but my tongue was dry too, and it was like sliding sandpaper against sandpaper.
A second later, Professor Worthington walked into the room.
He was dressed in a long white doctor’s coat.
“Oh, good,” he said. “You’re awake.” He walked over to me and smoothed my hair back from my face, kissed my forehead. “My pet,” he murmured, gazing at me with adoration. “My prize.”
Revulsion gurgled up in my throat, and when he went to kiss my forehead again, I bit his cheek.
He pulled back and slapped me on the face. “Bitch,” he spat.
“Where’s Noah?” I demanded. “What did you do to him?”
His eyes darkened at the mention of Noah’s name. “Noah isn’t going to save you, Charlotte.”
“Where is he?” I yelled, pulling on my restraints and making all kinds of noise. “He won me in the auction. He was on his way here. What the fuck did you do to him?”
“I didn’t do anything to him.” Professor Worthington was over on the side of the room now, behind a white room divider so that I couldn’t see what he was doing. But I could hear the clang of metal against metal, like he was preparing some kind of tools or instruments.
“Then who bid a million dollars for me?” I asked. “You?”
“No, Charlotte.” He laughed, a sarcastic little laugh that made it clear he would never pay a million dollars to own me. “Noah may have been on the phone with Audi, but he didn’t win you. This isn’t Noah’s game, Charlotte. He has no power here. I made the rules. I bought you fair and square. You are mine to do with as I please. I own you.”
The understanding washed over me with devastating clarity. The auction hadn’t been real. I’d never even had a chance to be won by someone else. Professor Worthington had worked it out with someone beforehand, had made it so no one else’s bids would even be considered. It was all for show, so that he could say I was his property, so that he would have an excuse to do whatever he wanted to me.
In his twisted brain, now that he’d bought me fair and square, he had every right to kill me, to torture me, to do whatever depraved things he desired.
Professor Worthington reappeared from behind the curtain, holding a metal tray of what looked like medical instruments – power drills and sharp scalpels and things I didn’t recognize. He set them down on a small rolling cart that was next to the table I was tied to.
I whimpered.
“No,” I said. “Please, I don’t...I don’t want to die.” It came out as a whisper, even though I hadn’t intended it to.
“You need to die,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m sorry, but that’s how this works. Noah thought you were his. But I bought you. I stole you. And now I will kill you.” He bit his lip. “Of course, first I will use you like the piece of trash that you are.”
“I thought you said you don’t want to have to hurt me,” I said, desperately trying to make a connection with him in any way I could.
“I don’t.” He shrugged. “But you have disappointed me by getting involved with Noah. And so now you must be ended, just like the others.”
He smiled sadistically, then reached over and pulled up my bra top, exposing my breasts. He kneaded my nipples roughly, his hands greasy.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Why do you hate Noah so much?”
“Please pay attention, Charlotte,” the professor said, sighing. “This isn’t about Noah. It’s about his type. They think they can get away with anything.”
“Did Noah steal a woman from you?” I asked. “Is that why you’re doing this?”
Professor Worthington’s face darkened and he twisted my nipple, then pulled back and slapped my breast so hard it immediately left a red mark. “You think a woman is why I’m doing this?” he demanded. “Women are nothing but whores, Charlotte. They’re not worth risking everything for.”
He pinched my nipple harder, his eyes taking on a crazed, glassy look.
“So then why?” I asked. “Why are you doing this?”
“People like Noah need to be taught a lesson. He will go to jail, Charlotte. I will make sure of it. I will leave your body somewhere perfect, somewhere that implements him just the right amount. Just like I did with Katie.”
I needed to keep him talking, needed to buy time. For what, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that every second he wasn’t talking was a second he’d be torturing me.
“That was brilliant, what you did with Katie,” I said. “You really made everyone think Noah did it.”
“Of course I did!” Professor Worthington said. “I even had an affair with her to make it look like she’d been sleeping with Noah. And of course, I planted those emails on his server.” He laughed, hard, a deep belly laugh. “It was so easy, Charlotte.” His laugh stopped. “And this will be, too.”
He picked a knife up off the tray and cut at the cloth around my hips, pulling it off of me until I was naked from the waist down.
“Very nice,” he murmured.
His hands pushed my legs apart, and he slid the knife down there, trailing the flat edge of the blade against my clit.
I moaned. “Please,” I begged. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
“Pain is pleasure, Charlotte,” he said. He took his finger and slid it inside of me, stretching me painfully.
I began to cry, tears flowing down my cheeks. This was how I would die. With Professor Worthington torturing me, raping me, until my body gave out.
He pushed his fingers into my further, and the pain was so intense I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. I wished for the sweet relief of the drugs to take over, to leave me not knowing what was going on, but I was painfully aware of everything that was happening to me, knew exactly what was going on, could feel every dry rip of skin.
Professor Worthington stood up and gazed down at me.
“You are such a whore,” he said. And then he spit onto my stomach. He removed his lab coat and set it over the chair. Then he began to unbutton his pants. “Whores need to be used.”
He pulled his penis out, hard and pale, and then laid down on top of me. He pushed my hair back from my face and I groaned out loud.
“I’m going to use you now, whore,” he said. “But it won’t take long. I will be quick. I will be
so quick. I will not come inside of you, I will make sure there’s no evidence.” His breath was coming in gasps as he talked, his breath hot and rank against my face.
He gripped my chin in his hand, pressing my mouth together until my lips puckered.
I could feel his penis growing harder against me.
“You whore,” he said. “You fucking cunt.” Spittle hit my cheeks as he talked, and I closed my eyes and waited for him to enter me.
I felt myself disassociating from my body, and it was a welcome relief.
I floated above myself, staring down at myself like I was watching a movie.
I wondered if maybe I was already dead.
Suddenly, Professor Worthington stopped.
“I need a long blade,” he said, standing up and putting his finger back inside of me, probing around roughly. “For after. I’ll be right back.”
He left the room, and I immediately began screaming.
I screamed until my throat felt raw and angry, I screamed until I couldn’t scream anymore. I screamed until my breath was gone and all I could feel was the scratch of skin against my throat.
I pulled as hard as I could on my shackles, hoping maybe I could break my wrists and slide them out.
I thought about how it would feel to be raped and tortured, how I’d rather just die now.
I wondered if there was a way I could kill myself.
The door pushed open.
Professor Worthington was back.
I closed my eyes and prayed I would pass out.
“Charlotte,” a familiar voice said.
It was a dream.
It had to be.
I kept my eyes closed tight, not wanting to open them, not wanting to be wrong, not wanting to wake up. If I was going to die, I would die in this dream, I would die with Noah’s voice lulling me to sleep.
“I love you, Noah,” I murmured. “I love you so much.”
“Charlotte!” he cried. “Oh my God, Charlotte.” I heard him then, clear as a bell, not the voice of someone in a dream, but the voice of someone there, here, right in this room with me. A hand brushed against my cheek, the touch familiar and comforting. I opened my eyes.
