by Nora Flite
Then we were moving again. It was short, that time; the loud wail of a heavy door shutting behind us. Foreign hands dropped me. Too weak to hold myself, I rolled on my side, lungs still shuddering. My stomach wanted to be free of whatever poison was in me. And, still, my brain was in chunks as I hurried to understand what was going on.
Where am I? What was I doing before I—what? Fell asleep? It was all frayed, thoughts that washed away before letting me near. The door open, shut, then opened again. I didn't know how long it took, if I passed out again or not. Time was disintegrating for me.
The music of running water got my attention. Voices came, hands lifting me carefully. I couldn't stand, but whoever had me was strong. My head dropped to one side, and finally, I saw the woman. She was taller than me, or was it because I was slumped on her? Red curls tied in a knot so tight it threatened to rip her hair from her scalp, a thin lipped mouth; I didn't know her. I didn't know her at all.
Someone spoke. My eyes took forever to move, finding the other girl across the room. She knelt at a deep tub, speaking in a language I didn't know. This one looked stocky, wide shoulders supporting both muscle and curves. It was like someone had mashed together a farmer and a classic baker, disturbingly grim and motherly at once.
I wished I could lick my lips. The urge to speak, to cry out, was welling in me. Instead, the red-head dragged me towards the tub. Standing fluidly, the thicker woman brushed back her dark braid and looked me up and down. They spoke briefly, tones low.
Together, they stripped my clothes off of me. Through my horror, I saw the black dress. It jogged something deep in me, memory dropping like rotten fruit. That's right! I was in Vegas. I... why was I...
My stomach swirled, guts going hard. I would have been sick again, yet it seemed everything in me was already out. I noticed I had no panties on, nothing under that dress. The air was far away, my skin too dull to feel if the room was hot or cold.
The dark-haired stranger mumbled something, touching the top of my head. The other girl laughed, the sound itching at my bones. Inhaling feebly, I found the strength to make a pathetic sound of argument.
The women froze; I swore they shared a look. Leave me alone, I thought desperately. That was not what they did. If they read my mind, my appeasing stare, they ignored me. Rolling up their sleeves, the two lifted me gently into the tub.
I was grateful for my numbness when they began to wash me. Each stroke they made with their rough sponges, how they spread me open to leave no part of me untouched... all of it fueled my disgust; my rage. It was the razor coming out, the red-head holding it to the light, that caused terror to crawl back inside my cells. The whole time, I willed my limbs to work.
One of them lifted my legs, straddled my knees open on the edges of the tub. Not wanting to watch, I used all my energy to turn my cheek to the porcelain. Nothing could hide me from the feeling, the scrape of metal on my exposed nethers.
I heard the girls mumbling, didn't know about what, of course. The language they're using, it sounds... familiar. I should know what it is. Heavy, their accents. I'd heard it before.
Pulling me from the tub, the braided girl held me steady as the other dried me with a towel. It was coarse, my skin pink and tingling from the heat. I was sure, now, that I had been drugged. The concoction was a mystery, but it had left me near paralyzed.
The fog was lifting, my focus leaving the women so I could dig through my brain. I went to Vegas. I went because—Jones! I gasped; the women just pulled me from the room, out into the hall. I couldn't walk, they hoisted me smoothly. Jones broke up with me. The recollection stabbed me deep. He left me, he called me...
Boring.
I was taken into a new room. This one was brighter, one side decorated with a floral couch and deep blue rug. Here, the girls sat me down. The cushions pulled me in, my head lolling until the red-head arranged me better. From my new vantage, I had a wonderful view of everything.
In front of me, a camera sat on a tripod. I wasn't stupid, I knew they planned to use it. I just didn't know why.
Rubber squeaked; the red-head pulling a stool, placing it in front of me. She sat while the braided girl came around, hairbrush squeezed like a rolling pin. Almost lovingly, they brushed out my long hair. Strands fell into my face; the blonde color served as another reminder.
I dyed it. I drove to Vegas to just... to get away. To try and be wild, someone different and interesting. To prove to Jones that he was wrong—no. To prove to myself.
Looking down, I spotted the makeup kit. The red-head looked even more intense, focusing while she started spreading things on my face. I couldn't tell what the other girl was doing, not with my eyes being forced shut as eyeshadow was applied.
It was all bizarre. I'd woken up to strangers who cleaned me, who were now decorating me like an Easter egg in front of a camera... but for what?
Think think think. You're forgetting something important. What happened last night in Vegas? It had been last night, hadn't it? I felt ill, dwelling on how much time could have gone by, how I just didn't know.
Pulling away, the woman arranged me, spread my knees as far as possible. She dropped my hands to the sides, let them rest uselessly on the cushions by my hips. It was an obscene position. Stepping aside, she slunk behind the camera. The flash was blinding.
I twitched my fingers. It was all I could do.
Enduring the naked photos, I grew more frustrated by the second. How dare they do this! She came around, tweaked my nipples, made them hard for the camera. How fucking dare anyone do this to—to anyone! Why!? Flashing lights, I saw white spots.
They brought me clothes next, but it didn't make me feel any better. Slipping red panties up my legs, a size too small so that they dug into my flesh, the matching bra capped it off. Again, photos. Again, my humiliation.
There was no mirror in front of me, but I didn't need one to imagine how I looked.
Manipulating me, the girls forced me onto hands and knees. I couldn't hold it, honestly didn't try. Letting my face sink into the arm of the couch, I wished I could run away from everything.
I didn't know I was crying until a tear tickled my nose. The braided woman clicked her tongue, sat me up and wiped my face. Looking me in the eye, she motioned with her fingers at her own lips. In a wash of disgust, I knew she was telling me to smile.
To fucking smile.
Gritting my teeth, I commanded all the strength I was gaining back. It stunned us both when I shoved her away, weak as it still was. Her surprise was clear; the red-head's, too. Standing back, they watched me, whispered nervously.
I was awash in shocked delight.
The drug—the whatever—it's wearing off! I'm getting my muscle control back. The more I felt excited over it, the faster it happened. I could lightly bite my tongue, could work my jaw and curl my toes. Lifting my eyes, I glared at the women and took a breath. "Don't... touch... me." It took so much effort, but their open mouths were worth it.
I can do this, I can talk!
I could fight.
Groaning, I rocked on the couch. They'd put ridiculous heels on my feet, standing was too risky. Instead, I rolled my shoulders, enjoyed the surge of feeling as blood rippled to my limbs. "Where am I?" I whispered, licking my painted lips. "Who are you?"
They mumbled to each other in their unknown language.
"Hey!" Oh, it felt good to shout. "Hey! I'm talking to you! What is this, what's going on here?"
The smaller woman darted out the door, leaving the other alone. She stared me down, hands still by her sides. I was sure the bun-headed woman had gone to get help, to get someone else. More people is bad. I need to act now! Rocking forward, I grabbed the couch, using it to make me stand. The way my knees trembled wasn't encouraging.
It was the person who entered, though, that stole my strength entirely.
Brushing through the heavy door, the man fixed his inky eyes on me with cruel interest. It was a look that turned my blood cold and made my lower belly
twitch, all at once. That fucking smile, those fucking lips that I remembered kissing...
"Hello, Celeste," he purred.
Every part of my memory returned. "You," I gasped, crushing the couch, willing myself to remain standing. "You fucking drugged me! How could you do that!?"
Cocking his head, Leonide looked at the braided girl who had followed him inside. His accent was thicker, speaking in that foreign tongue. She replied, chin bouncing rapidly.
"Hey!" I growled, forcing myself to stand taller. It wasn't exactly courage flowing in me, just pure frustration and righteousness. Was this really happening? To me, of all people? "Tell me what's going on here!"
Ever so slowly, Leonide rolled his eyes to me without turning his head. "You're more demanding than I remember you being. That will need to change right away."
Stiffening at his threat, I held my breath. "You kidnapped me, didn't you?"
"How astute." He spoke once more to the women, the pair nodding as they shuffled out of the room. I hadn't found them to be my friends, but now, alone with Leonide, I wanted them back.
A single step from him, moving my way, made my hairs prickle. "Why would you do this?"
"Take a guess." Another step, his lips coiling at one edge.
"Don't come near me, stay back!"
His laugh, wild and carefree, curdled my insides. "Oh? You're trying to command me? Tsk, you really don't know what's going on, do you?" His advance didn't slow; in moments, he would be upon me.
I need to do something! Shooting a glance to my side, I spotted one of the tall lights on its stand. It was the sort you'd find in any photography studio, a thing that reminded me uneasily of family portraits, now being used to film of me in lewd poses. Don't think, Celeste, just move!
Leonide reached for me just as I swung my arm out. I caught the stand, managed to knock it at him. It wasn't a subtle move; he dodged it smoothly, glass shattering on the floor. We both stared at the shards, at what I had done. As he rolled his glare back to me, I knew I should have tried to run.
It was far too late.
I spun, his hand catching me on the shoulder. In one simple motion, Leonide shoved me face first into the nearby wall. The thud rattled my skull, my temple crushed hard on the flat surface. Alarms were whistling in my ears. His weight held me firmly under him while he talked so saccharine. "You actually tried to hurt me. Unfortunate. You had a better disposition at the hotel, Celeste."
Goosebumps rose in multitudes. He was happy to remind me of how I'd kissed him, let him rule my body when I'd thought he was a gentle, if intriguing, stranger. Breathing through my nose in a panic, my muscles writhed, uselessly trying to get him off of me.
His thumb glided on my neck, squeezed until I was squeaking. The pressure behind my eyes mounted; was I going to blackout? "I admit," he said into my ear, "I am impressed. Most girls take much longer to fight the drugs. That you were talking, moving, so soon... well." His nose brushed on my cheek. "You're stronger than you made me think, my dear."
Inches from unconsciousness, Leonide finally let me breathe. Gasping in desperately, I coughed on the wall, spittle wet on my lips. "Why?" I rattled weakly.
"Why? You keep asking that." His free hand rolled down my back, caressing my bare skin until he squeezed my ass. "Are you sure you want to know?" He traced a pattern over my sensitive hip.
"Don't touch me." My heart thumped, faster and faster. I was no longer numb, I couldn't escape from what my body felt. I hated this man, knew he had poisoned me and captured me. So why did my body want to well with heat where he touched? It must be leftover drugs. That's all. It was the only thing that calmed me.
He snorted, lips pressing a kiss to my temple. "Maybe it would be best if I just told you what was happening. Perhaps you're too stupid to put the pieces together."
"I'm not stupid," I hissed.
"Good." He palmed my upper thigh, dug in until I cried out. "Stupid girls can't follow the rules, stupid girls take risks and end up dead."
Dead.
Leonide nuzzled my hair, inhaled deeply. "Beautiful girl, I would hate to see you dead. What a waste."
My stomach was a den of snakes. He was confusing me, mixing dangerous words and violence with his soft, knowing fingers and lips. Again, I struggled under him, wishing for the ability to throw him aside. Amazingly, he released me; I turned, shoulders on the wall.
Tilting his head, thick hair glistening in the lights, Leonide smiled. "Are you ready to listen?"
His poise was so calm. This was not a man who feared me—fuck, his smirk showed he was enjoying this. Narrowing my eyes, I tried to judge how strong my legs were. Could I run past him and get to the door?
Quick as a whip, he snatched my jaw and squeezed. "Don't," he growled. A simple movement, he forced me to my knees. I felt a shard of glass from the broken bulb, tried to scream around his grip and choked instead. "You said you weren't stupid, right? I saw that look, I can read your mind."
Gagging, I scratched at his wrist. The thick material of his dark jacket protected him from my claws. Letting me go, he stood over me while I struggled for air. He's crazy! He's a dangerous man. I need to be smarter. Stop acting, start thinking.
Crouching, he cupped my chin until I was forced to look at him. His thumb wiped away tears from my eyes. "Are you actually ready to listen? Just nod for me."
It was a long moment, us staring at each other in silence. He was calm, like he'd done this many times before. He mentioned other girls, earlier. If he'd done this with others, it would be hard for me to surprise him. I was tired, weak from drugs and confused about what was happening—where I even was.
If I wanted a chance to get out of this...
Looking away, I gave a tiny nod.
"Good girl." He pet my hair, made my hackles rise. Standing tall, he didn't offer to help me up. "That's a start." Stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets, his gaze never slid from me while he spoke. "You wanted to know why I would do this." He gestured around the room. "Bring you here, have you cleaned up. Make you look pretty for the camera, all of that."
I struggled to stay silent.
Shrugging to his ears, Leonide's grin revealed porcelain teeth. "The men who buy from me have a weakness for blonde, blue eyed American girls."
My belly flipped, didn't stop. Blonde? I wasn't blonde, not truly. Of course he wouldn't know that; the Celeste he'd met had been fresh off of a new dye job. As for the rest... "You said buy. You're a slave trafficker, then." Slavery. He kidnapped me to sell me as a slave!
He was too fast, hand winding in my hair while he knelt over me. Wrenching my head back, he snarled over my surprised scream. "I didn't say you could speak, did I?" Shaking me, he waited till I had quieted down, eyes black ice. "And you went so far as to insult me. I'm no slaver, my dear girl. Understand?"
No, of course I didn't understand. He'd said it straight out! How could he be anything except a slaver? I'd heard of them on the news, understood they existed in some capacity... just not in a way that threatened my life.
Or so I had thought.
Easing his grip, not releasing me, Leonide sighed. "Slavery is a filthy thing. No, what I do is far more pure. I find girls, make them into perfect brides for their future husbands. True, there is money involved, but what matchmaker isn't owed their part for such an effort?"
My eyeballs throbbed; I'd stopped blinking. Marriage? Yes, this man was truly insane. I was in the hands of a mad man. A handsome, deadly mad man. A dangerous man who thinks I'm a natural blonde. Oh god.
On the one hand, telling him the truth might change everything. If his clients wanted a certain type of girl, and I didn't foot the bill, well... No. He said it before, stupid girls end up dead. Telling the truth would get me tossed aside. Yet, he'd find out when my roots grew in that I wasn't blonde at all.
What could I do?
I'd colored my hair to help me play pretend at being someone else. This wasn't playing anymore. Can I still pretend in this situation? I would have to
try.
Leonide stood, smoothing his jacket and adjusting his tie. I hated how put together he looked, all while I crouched in gaudy red lingerie at his feet. "You understand now. I'm going to make you perfect, Celeste. The perfect bride to be." Oh god, that awful fucking smile. "You'll make me a lot of money. I just know it."
There were so many things I wanted to ask. Darting a look at the camera, feeling the burn of the cut on my knee, I hesitated. Perhaps he could read my mind; his voice was inquisitive. "Go on. What do you want to ask me."
Parting my lips, I gathered myself. "Who... who are you going to sell me—or marry me, to?"
"Ah." Strolling to the camera, he took it off the tripod. "A lot of things influence that. You'd have a different audience if you were a virgin." His casual comment made me blush. "As it is, I'll have to market your... abilities in a different way. I'll put these photos up, and once an interested party comes along, they'll be the ones to decide what sort of advanced training you'll need."
The back of my neck was stiff. "Training?"
He didn't hide the perverse delight in his sneer. "I run all future brides through much of the same training, preparing you for the basics. However... some men have other expectations out of their wives. When I find out what those are, you'll learn, too."
Hugging myself, I sought out comfort. I couldn't give myself any. Training. What will he do to me? Ignorance was best, I clung to it. "You can't do this," I croaked. "Someone... someone will report me missing, someone will find me!" Where am I? I don't even know.
His shade slid over me, left me colder. "Oh, Celeste. We both know that isn't true." Too sweetly, he pet my hair, felt me trembling. "No parents, no friends, no boyfriend. You told me yourself, didn't you? You had no clue where you were going to end up after your ex left you." Warm lips touched my forehead; I wanted to vomit. "I've saved you. You'll have a place, now. In time, you'll thank me for all of this."
Looking up, I didn't hide the resent boiling in my blue eyes. "I'll never thank you."
He wore a mask of pity. "You will. They always do."
