by Coralee June
Dominique looked at him with a small smile, it reminded me of how I looked at Maverick when he was excited about a project.
“How is—” Allaire began, but Dominique cut him off before he could finish his question while giving him a pointed look .
“He’s fine. We got two more today,” Dominique said with a frown. “I heard whispers that they’re dying by the dozen in Galla. Those who got the vaccine first are getting hit the hardest.”
Allaire frowned, too, and they exchanged scared expressions before shaking their heads.
"Well thank you for walking me back, as well as for the enlightening day," I said, forcing Dominique and Allaire to stop staring at one another. Dominique looked down at her comm-watch in disappointment.
"Cavil's calling me..." her voice trailed off as she patted her dress pocket. I remembered the red tube of lipstick and frowned.
"Ah, yes. Seems we all have a role to play, hmm?" Allaire said before tipping his head and turning away with a sad smile.
I walked through the threshold as Dominique watched his retreating back. There was a sadness in the way her smile dipped once he was out of sight. She slammed the door shut and began pacing the room.
"Shall I set the table?" I asked nervously, still unsure what Cavil had planned for me.
"We won't be eating in the dining room today," she replied in a faraway voice while continuing to walk from one side of the kitchen to the other.
"Are you going out, then? Should I make preparations?"
"We're going to the ivory room." Dominique's voice was shaky with emotion as she leaned against the countertops.
"What’s the ivory room? Isn’t that for Companions?"
"You'll have to find out for yourself. Get ready. I put a dress for you in the bathroom. Wear the red lipstick, or your punishment will be worse."
"I'm not—" I began, but she cut me off.
"You're to be whatever Cavil wants you to be. If you want to live, if you want your friends to live, you'll do as I say. Don't let him see you cry."
I swallowed down bile as it burned my throat and walked towards the bathroom. I wanted to question Dominique further but knew when to accept my fate.
Inside, hanging on the washroom door, was a long, white dress. It was soft to the touch and felt smooth on my skin. It tied around my neck and dipped low, showing off my cleavage and some of my stomach.
Although the dress was far more revealing than I would normally wear, it wasn't what broke me. It was the red lipstick. The crimson enigma marking me as a Companion was a pill too hard to swallow. It represented the manipulations Mistress Stonewell used daily to remind me how lucky I was—how thankful I should be that I didn't have to sell my body like so many other Walkers. Despite the bright shade, it was dark. Dismal. It had all the bad things of this empire wrapped up into a tiny tube.
I refused to look at myself in the mirror as I applied it. My fingers trembled when I considered what Cavill had in store for me. Surely the guys wouldn't let him do anything. Surely we'd find a way. I looked at my fetter, reminding me just how powerless I was and shivered. Somehow, someway, I'd need to get out of here and get back to my freedom in Dormas and never take it for granted again.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Dominique wore a conflicted expression as she appraised me. "You look beautiful," she said with a frown.
She, too, wore a white dress similar to mine, except it cut off at the knee and had a slit going up so high you could see her hip bone when she walked.
"Am I wrong for enjoying seeing you like me?"
Her question caught me off guard. I barely knew this woman, and already she was spilling her secrets as if she couldn't contain the pain of them anymore.
"Why do you ask?"
Dominique paused while biting her lip. "Come along. We have games to play. ”
The ivory room was hard to find, and without Dominique's all-knowing guidance, I surely would have gotten lost.
"You mustn't react. Do not say anything. Keep your eyes on the floor. Whatever Cavil asks of you, do it. And if you leave here alive, you should count yourself lucky," she advised.
I sucked in a deep breath as we walked, the sounds of her bright red heels reverberating off the tile.
"There are worse things than death, Dominique," I said softly, and she halted in her steps. For a brief moment, she turned to look at me. Shiny tears filled her eyes before she blinked away the glassy emotion and slipped back into her rigid state of uncaring.
She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but shut it again. The sound of women's laughter filled the hallways, making us both jump from the break in tension. She continued to walk, and I followed her until we found ourselves inside the ivory room.
Each piece of furniture was white. The walls, the tile. Not one speck of color marred the large space. At first, I was so taken aback by the colorless, bright room that I almost didn't see them, but my chest hurt once my eyes connected with my men. On the overstuffed couches, they sat, each of them wearing white suits while eating off gold platters. Red lipstick-wearing Walker Companions sat all around them.
Dominique warned me not to react, but I couldn't help it. My lip trembled, as one by one, their eyes connected with mine. Each flashing me a look of brief remorse before slipping into their mask of acceptance as the various Walker Companions tried to get their attention.
"Ah! The little Dormas Walker that's got everything in chaos finally decided to show up," Cavil slurred. I noticed dribbles of red wine on his white shirt, the spills diluting the crisp effect.
"Come in, come in, my dear. We have so much fun ahead of us," he cooed while setting down his glass and patting his knee.
I wanted to run and squirm and scream. I'd rather live a lifetime with Linda Stonewell critiquing my cleaning proficiencies than touch Cavil. Luckily, Dominique saved the day. She swiftly moved in front of me and gracefully settled on his lap with a fake smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes, plastered on her face.
"I figured your Masters could use a night of variety," Cavil said with a snort while bouncing his leg, forcing Dominique to crash into his chest. "I know Dormas is having a shortage of women, but one Walker Companion for six men? That's simply too much. It’s messing with their heads." Cavil slapped Dominique's knee, urging her to stand. She tumbled off of him as he rose from his white chair.
"I had some of the Walker women from our friendly neighborhood brothel stop by for a visit. I usually book them when we have dignitaries in town, so why not? I'm a hospitable host, you see." Cavil walked over to Huxley who was shrugging off a very persistent Walker Companion. She pouted in my direction as Cavil dove in for a harsh kiss, smearing her lipstick all over his face. He broke from her with a grin, and I gasped at the effect, the red paint covered his face like blood.
"Not to mention, I figured you might need a break. You know, since you had such an exciting night in the prisons."
I lifted my chin up and kept my expression blank all while trying to ignore the all-consuming pain that filled me.
Cavil pulled a long knife from the waistband of his pants and began spinning it lazily in his hand.
"Once Blan was out of the healing pod, and his bones had mended enough so he could tell me what happened, I knew what had to be done."
Huxley took a step closer to me, but he was still a good five feet away. I watched as his fists clenched, his jaw tensed with fury and worry.
"Normally,” Cavil drawled on, “I'd kill a man that defends a Walker before a soldier. But I don't think it's his fault. Variety is the spice of life, little Walker." He winked, throwing his hands out and spinning around the room. The other Walker women giggled, as if on cue. "They simply don't know any better. But you? You should know better—and I think it’s time you had a lesson in submission."
Huxley’s face went red with rage as he brushed off the attentive Walker woman clinging to his arm, but Cavil held his palm up.
"Tsk tsk, you should know better than to
intervene."
Webb entered the room wearing a wide grin and carrying a tablet. As he walked by me, our shoulders touched and he lingered in the contact. "Told you I'd break you, Walker," he whispered menacingly before standing beside Cavil.
"Now,” Cavil spoke. “According to my research and development team, the human body can only handle seventeen consecutive shocks from a fetter. Anything more, and you start losing your mental capacities. Which in your case, might not be bad. But I'm not completely cruel, you see. So instead I'll do twelve sessions." Cavil waved an arm at Dominique before continuing. "Put a towel down, dear, the last one pissed all over the floor."
My eyes roamed the room as Dominique did what she was told. Cyler's chest heaved as he threw Cavil a murderous stare. Kemper stood and flexed as if preparing to attack. Jacob sat at a table by the door, but I noticed how his fingers twitched as a Walker woman tried to massage his shoulders. He politely removed her hand and kept his eyes firmly on me.
It was Patrick, however, whose expression scared me most. For a brief moment, I saw the boy from his story. We weren't in Cavil's ivory room. We were in Huxley’s and Patrick's childhood home. I saw the boy who had to watch his mother be brutally abused, then killed, as he stood by. My heart hurt as I realized that I put him in the same position again. All because I couldn't keep my thoughts to myself with Blan.
"Are you ready, Walker? Your Holders have been given very illicit instructions as to what will happen should they intervene. I made their purpose for this evening abundantly clear. As a reminder, all it takes is a push of a button to inject a lethal poison to anyone wearing a fetter. "
I heard a cough from behind, as a man clutching Jules' arm entered the room. She frowned deeply and tried to pull away but couldn't. Her eyes were black from the smeared makeup lining her lids, dried tears leading a trail down her cheeks.
"Have a seat, Mistress. Enjoy the show," Cavil sneered.
I stood on the towel in the center of the room, surrounded by Cavil’s soldiers and my men. Without warning, Webb pressed a button on his tablet, beginning my torture. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to prove that I wasn't weak, but the fiery pain that immediately consumed each and every nerve-ending brought me to my knees and had me crying out. Tears blurred my eyes as I screamed, my voice so loud, the sound ripped apart my vocal chords. It was a clawing feeling, trying to seek release from the hold my fetter had on me. It burned. It tore. It made every cell in my body catch fire while making my lungs feel as though they were drowning. Just as quickly as it came, the pain ceased, and I gasped for air.
"That was session one. Eleven more to go," Cavil said in a bored tone.
I braced my hands on the floor, clutching the white towel Dominique laid out when the fire happened again. Burning, burning, burning. Every cell. Every inch of my being ignited and screamed for relief. It tore me down, then built me back up just to rip me apart again. Again, it stopped and I let out a growl.
Cavil's voice rang out again. "Session two, ten more to go." Before the next wave of pain hit, I looked up and saw Cavil's gleam as he adjusted the waistband of his pants. He enjoyed this.
Again, the shock shot up my arm, making me twitch and scream, but this time, it lacked the sharp intensity of the first two. It was as if the pain was too much and my body was shutting off all feeling to protect me. I'd met the threshold of pain, and all that was left was dark emptiness.
In the brief pause between session three and four, I looked to Patrick. Glassy eyes stared back at me as he pulled at his hair while pacing the floor. I knew he would take my pain if he could .
By session seven, my vision went black. By eight, my ears maintained a constant ringing, loudly rattling against my brain, muffling Cavil's laughter and the Walker women's flirtatious banter. Their night continued while I sat dying on their ivory stage. I couldn't see my men. But I could feel their eyes on me.
I lost control of my muscles on session ten, and by session eleven, I saw the reason for the towel. I would have felt embarrassment, but the pain was too much for shame.
Before session twelve, I cut Cavil off as he was speaking, announcing the last of my torture. I wanted one last act of strength. Perhaps it was foolish, but I needed to show that there was still some fight left in me.
"Session eleven. One. More. To. Go." My voice was hoarse and my words cut like knives against my raw throat. The screams bled me dry. Oh, what I would give to see his face as I survived. I wished to know if I rattled him. I wanted to see his doubt and disappointment when he realized that I wasn’t broken.
And this time, when the electricity kicked, I collapsed. I welcomed the darkness and resolved to get revenge for all he’d done.
Chapter Ten
My mouth was dry when I woke. I tried to crawl out of the sleepy haze I was in, but every time I reached the surface of my consciousness, the pain started. Every bone. Every muscle. Every cell in my body ached. My tongue snaked out to lick my chapped lips, tasting dried blood. My head was pounding, echoing pain that I still felt sharply with each beat of my heart. It pounded through my thoughts, muddling my awareness.
"It's about time you woke up," Jules' voice said. I opened my eyes but shut them back when the bright light above me was too jarring. I moaned a bit while pushing my stiff arms up to cover my face.
I felt the mattress dip beside me as Jules sat down. "We don't have all day. I need you to sit up, drink some water, and pull yourself together. Maverick's about to do something drastic, and I need you to stop him." Her words made me force my tired eyes to stay open. Jules slipped her arms around me and helped me sit up, the act was gentle and considerate.
She held a glass of water up to my lips, and I took deep drawls from the straw, then coughed when it hit my raw throat. "Slow down, you're going to make yourself sick," she complained. I pulled back, resting my head against the headboard of the bed while taking in my surroundings. My vision was blurry, but after a few moments, I determined that I was at the lab and in the upstairs apartment. The bed I was in must have been Maverick's. Surrounding me were various medical instruments hooked up to my chest, reading my vitals.
"W-what’s happening?" I forced out in a whisper, my voice was barely audible. She looked at the ceiling in exasperation.
"Let's get you downstairs so you can see for yourself. They've been fighting nonstop." Yelling erupted downstairs, and I winced at the loud noise.
"She could've died!" Huxley's voice rang out loud and clear.
"What did you expect me to do? They keep me locked up in this lab. I didn't even know what was happening!" Maverick replied. I turned to Jules who looked exasperated.
"I know you’re tired, but I think it's time you wake up,” she said with a frown. "I figured you wouldn't appreciate being asleep while they kill each other."
I gripped the edge of the cot, prepared to stand, but my legs shook with exhaustion. Once again, I tried to speak.
"How long?"
Jules shrugged. "Two days. Almost three."
Two days? What happened? How did I get to the lab? Where were my guys? Memories of what led me here assaulted my senses. Visions of Patrick's helpless expression followed by Cavil's manic glee filled my mind’s eye. I vaguely remembered Dominique helping me into Cyler’s arms. However, everything else was a blur. All that I could remember was the pain and the darkness.
I gently brushed my fingertips over my throat and tried to swallow back the emotion that was bubbling from within me. Jules followed my movement and sighed. "Just let me do the talking, please? I'll get you cleaned up and help you downstairs. I wouldn't have woken you if it wasn't important." Jules looked down at her chipped fingernails.
It took Jules a while to get me dressed and washed. I was surprised by her tenderness. Despite her huffs of annoyance, she was careful with my soreness and eased me into my clothes all while the yelling downstairs continued.
"You should have done everything in your power to make sure she never got to that point!" Maverick screamed.
>
"They would've killed her! They would've killed Jules! If you want to help, then find the cure!" Cyler screamed back.
When it was time to go downstairs, fear gripped me. What if Cavil punished me again? What if he killed me?
"Cavil is arranging troops to send to Saberus. He hasn't shown up here since the ivory room. Apparently, Josiah gave them a lead on one of the scientists. He’ll be here soon though, I suppose," Jules said.
Once again I tried to stand. My resolve to see them was stronger than the aches and pains.
Jules watched me cautiously. "You ready?" she asked.
“I guess,” I replied.
As we made our way downstairs, I wondered why no one was with me when I woke up. Memories of the night Cavil punished me made my eyes water. I couldn't help but feel sad. I needed reassurance. Jules silently tugged me along and forced me to move faster than my body was ready for. I gasped out in pain. Every muscle in my body felt clenched tight, like a fist.
Once downstairs, I saw them.
Sad eyes full of regret and shock met mine the moment I landed on the last step. We all stood there for a moment. The tension in the room was evident, and I noticed that even Maverick was flexed and angry. He shook away the shock of seeing me, before gliding over. I flinched when his hand touched my wrist just above my fetter—the source of all this trauma. Before, it was just an accessory. It wasn't until I felt the pain it could inflict that I realized how dangerous it really was.
Maverick pulled back, obviously distraught by my reaction to him. I wanted to reassure him. Explain myself and fall into his arms, but it all still hurt .
As if the spell of my arrival was broken by my flinch, immediately questions were thrown around like grenades.
"When did she wake up? You promised to come get us!" Cyler shouted before walking over to me. He leaned forward so that I could look up into his dark eyes, but my neck hurt from the strain.
