It is.
“The washing needs to be done, there’s to be none laying around.”
There’s none.
“The dining room needs to be set.”
Obviously.
“And dinner needs to be cooked.”
No shit.
I shake my head, unsure why my inner thoughts are so...blunt. I feel like a part of me is being taken away, and I’m the only one fighting to get it back. The guard walks over, and divides us up. For the first time we’re separated into different groups. I’m put with Number Two, the Latin American girl, who is really, really pretty. The others with me are Number Eight, who is the tall, athletic girl that seems friendly enough, and Number Eleven, the big, butch girl who kind of scares me. We’re assigned kitchen duties, so I guess my day is being spent cooking. There are worse things.
As soon as we’re grouped off, we get to work. We immediately go to the kitchen and stare down at the menu that has been done up for the night. We’ve been given a copy to work with, and it’s on a shiny, silver piece of paper that is decorated with swirls and tiny little diamond-like beads. There’s a long, white feather attached to the corner of it, and it flutters about when it moves. I stare down at it, and I know just how much we have to do today. We probably need to do one thing each, or we’ll be here running around in circles all day.
“Okay, I think we should group off and do one thing each,” I say, taking charge like I usually would with my group.
Number Eleven, the big, butch girl steps forward, and glares at me. “Who died and made you boss?”
“I...excuse me?” I stammer. “I’m just trying to organize this so we don’t—”
She cuts me off, stepping closer. “So you don’t get sent back for punishment? We’ve heard all about you, and we’re not letting you take charge of anything. We heard what you put your group through. Don’t you know they all have to go to some sort of therapy at night because they’re so fucked up? You’re the fucked-up group. They picked you for a reason. You’re the idiot who tried to escape instead of doing the right thing. You’re the master’s little pet, because you’re so damned simple. I hear he likes simple.”
My heart seizes. I don’t know what she’s talking about. Why would she be so cruel to me? She doesn’t even know me. My breathing becomes labored as I straighten my shoulders. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I don’t know you, and you certainly don’t know me.”
She chuckles. “But I do know you. We all know you. We have all been told about the ‘special’ group.”
Special group?
“Why are you being so cruel?” I whisper, glaring at her.
“Oh, I’m sorry, do that hurt you, honey?” she mocks. “Maybe you should go sit on the master’s lap.”
What? How would she know that? How does she know any of this? Anger swells in my chest as she continues to bait me. Don’t let her get to you. Don’t let her put you and your group back in that basement. I ignore her taunts, and turn, not making eye contact with the other girls who stand quietly in the corner. They don’t look like they are as mean as her, but they also look smart enough not to try and defend me. I decide on taking the entrée, and begin creating it. They’ve got garlic prawns on a bed of seasoned cous cous. I need to prepare all the prawns, and for twenty to thirty people, that will take a while.
I hear the other girls get to work, and as Number Eleven goes past me, she shoves me hard into the counter. I bite my lip to stop from lashing out, but warmth floods my veins, and my chest puffs out as I try to keep my anger at bay. I fight back my tears and keep preparing. I don’t have time to let her get to me. I can’t let another person create who I am before I know myself.
This isn’t the only time she shoves me. It continues throughout the morning. She shoves at me when she walks past, pushes my bowls off the counter, scattering food onto the floor, and puts her leg out when I go past so she can trip me up. By the time lunch rolls around, I’m at the end of my tether. So when she shoves me, I spin around, knife in hand, and I snarl at her. “Will you just go away? What have I done to you?”
She just laughs. Like I’m a joke.
Maybe I am.
Tears burn in my eyes, and I throw my knife down and run from the kitchen. The guards are after me in less than a second, but I run as hard and fast as I can through the halls. I hear the sounds of alarms being sounded, but I don’t stop. I run, not really knowing where I’m going. I’m so angry that I’m panting, my entire body thrumming. I want to scream. I want to make it all go away. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be this...this...freak.
A tall man with his hand over his face, his eyes as beautiful as a crystal-blue ocean.
I skid to a halt, panting. An image flickers through my mind. I don’t know what or when it was from, but it’s an image. Before I can process it, another one hits me. Harder, more full on.
“Sissy! Play with me,” a small girl cries, her blond pigtails flicking around her face. “We always play when he’s not here. Momma has gone away with him, so now we can sing, and dance.”
I grip my head, crying out as the memory almost burns into my mind. I start running again when I hear the shouts from behind me. Before I know it, I’m at the master’s door. I don’t even know why I ran here, but here I am. I start banging frantically, beside myself. I don’t want to feel like this. I want the answers. He needs to tell me. He needs to explain why he’s stripping me of my rights.
“Open the damned door!” I scream. “Face me, goddammit, you face me!”
The door opens suddenly, and I’m tugged in before I get even a glance at him. God damn him. He spins me around, and presses my back against his chest. He presses a hand over my eyes for a moment, until he can take a blindfold, place it over my eyes, then quickly secure it. I start running my mouth off before he has even finished tying the last knot.
“What’s wrong with you?” I scream. “Why am I here? Why won’t you tell me? It’s not fair. You can’t just take someone and not tell them why. She’s bullying me, telling me I’m a freak, that I’m fucked up, that I’m weak. Why does she know about me, but I don’t? It’s not your goddamned right to keep this away from me. I don’t want to be here. Let me go.”
He turns me around, and on wobbly legs, I go. I open my mouth to speak again, only to feel his hands come up and cup my face. I feel the warmth of his palms radiating through my cheeks. My body tingles all over, and I can’t quite understand why I would feel this way around him. I hate him. He strokes his fingers gently under my eyes, and I realize I’m crying so much it’s soaked through the blindfold and is starting to run down my cheeks.
Maybe they’re right; maybe I am weak.
“Master,” I hear a guard shout, rushing into the room. I hear something crash to the ground, and Master William tenses behind me.
“It’s fine,” he murmurs. “Leave.”
“Yes sir.”
I hear the door close, and then I feel Master William begin walking us toward something. He sits me down onto a couch, surprisingly not on his lap. He sits beside me; I know because the couch moves when he settles himself.
“Number Eleven was bullying you.”
It’s not a question; it’s a fact.
“I do something wrong, I get punished. She does something wrong, and she’s not.”
“Wrong, frumusețe, she will be punished.”
“You let her bully me. You watched it, you watch everything we do, and you let her do it.”
“Wrong again. I was watching to see how you dealt with it.”
“She could have hurt me,” I snarl, jerking my body further away from his.
“I would have never let her hurt you.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” I whisper, dropping my head.
“You need to trust me, frumusețe.”
“Tell me why we’re different, why they’re calling us freaks.”
“They’re not calling you freaks, Number Eleven is calling you a freak,
and she will be dealt with accordingly.”
“Why can’t I see you?”
He doesn’t answer for a long moment.
“You need to stop questioning me,” he says, and I feel him stand. “I understand your confusion, but you need to start behaving as the other girls behave or I cannot continue to be kind to you, Number Thirteen.”
“That’s not my name,” I scream. “And you’re hardly nice!”
“It’s time to go,” he says simply.
“God damn you—”
“Do as you’re told, Number Thirteen,” he growls, cutting me off.
Feeling my lip beginning to tremble, I stand, and let him turn and lead me to the door. I feel the guard take me into his grasp, and I hear William mutter, “Move Number Eleven to the basement, replace her with Number Five.”
“Yes sir.”
Just before he leads me away, I whisper in a small voice, “Trust is a two-way street, William.”
He makes a strange, throaty sound, but I just keep my head down and let the guard lead me away.
I have nothing more to say.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WILLIAM
“How do you wish Number Eleven to be punished, sir?”
I watch the camera recordings, noting how Number Eleven continually bullies Number Thirteen. Someone like her isn’t going to respond well to being struck. She’s too sure of herself—too sure that she knows everything. A girl like her will merely grunt at getting the belt. She needs something worse, something that will hurt her, affect her, show her that she is not the boss in this home, and that she has no right to bully the other girls.
“She will join Number Thirteen tonight, and she will do everything Number Thirteen asks. In front of all the others. She will be her slave to do as she pleases for a full twenty-four hours. You need to watch, and be sure she does as she’s told.”
George nods. “Yes, sir, very clever.”
“There is a punishment for each act, some different than the others. They are all thought up accordingly, and this, I believe, fits just right.”
“Yes, sir, it does.”
“That is all, George.”
“Thank you, I’ll have this sorted. Do you need your suit prepared for this evening?”
“No, it’s done. It’s masquerade, so don’t forget the masks.”
“Yes, I have them all ready. Which girls have you decided will be serving the meal?”
I stare at the screens again, and a smile curls on my lips.
“Number Thirteen and her group will serve the meals.”
“Are you sure about that, sir?”
“Very sure.”
“She broke this afternoon. She’s not in the right frame of mind, and...”
“She needs to learn how we work around here. If she misbehaves, she will be punished again. If she does a good job, she’s going to be rewarded. The only way to teach them, George, is to let them make their own mistakes.”
“It’s a risk, sir.”
“It’s one I’m willing to take. That is all.”
George nods, and exits the room. I lean back in my chair. Slowly, these girls will learn the lesson I’m so simply trying to teach them.
~*~*~*~
NUMBER THIRTEEN
They are making her my slave. My head spins as I stare at her, Number Eleven, openly glaring at me.
I don’t understand what kind of sick game the master is playing, but this isn’t something I want. I’m not that person. I may not know a lot about myself, but I know enough to know that I will not order another person around against their will. How can I allow myself to become him? That’s not right, none of this is...but I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to the girl standing in front of me who is shooting a glare so malicious it has my skin tingling.
“Um,” I begin, lifting a golden strand of my hair into my fingers and twirling it. “Please just help me in the kitchen, without anger and fighting. I know why you dislike me, Number Eleven, but there’s no need for it. I’m here, I don’t know why I’m here, and that doesn’t make me a bad person. It certainly doesn’t make me a freak. Do you not think I have a life I want to remember? Hating me is unfair. I’m no different to you when we’re standing here in this room. We have no name, we are merely a number; there is no comparisons. I’m not asking you to be my friend, but I won’t humiliate you, because I wouldn’t like it done to me. So, all I ask is that you please help me out so we can finish this meal for the dinner guests.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, and she stares at me for so long I’m sure she’s about to burst out laughing and tell me to go and ‘screw’ myself. Instead, her face softens just a touch, and she nods.
Pride swells in my chest.
“Then let’s go,” I say, without adding anymore.
We make our way back to the kitchen, and begin preparing the food quickly and efficiently, only this time there are no angry words or shoving. When we’ve got the first round prepared and ready for when the guests arrive, we begin working on getting the main meals into the oven. Bill walks in just as the afternoon is sliding into the evening.
“Number Thirteen,” he says, nodding at me.
I stop what I’m doing, and walk over, standing in front of him.
“The master wishes to reward you for your impeccable behavior with Number Eleven earlier. He’s allowing you a moment of trust. If you take it, you’ll slowly begin earning more. If you screw this up, then you will be punished, and there will never be anymore chances for you or your group to earn your place again.”
A moment of trust?
I nod at Bill, desperate to hear what he’s about to say. Oddly, I’m desperate to please Master William. I shove that feeling down, not entirely sure why I would need to impress a man I despise.
“You and your group will be serving tonight. You’ll be responsible for their behavior. If one word is spoken about this situation, as I said, you will be punished, and you will sacrifice any chance you might have of earning any further trust.”
“I understand,” I say, feeling my heart pound.
He’s letting us serve? He’s letting us interact? It’s been only a few days since we arrived here, but already he’s letting us have the chance to prove ourselves. I can’t let this go wrong. We need every chance we can get to slowly gather Master’s trust. It’ll be our only chance of escape.
“Very good,” Bill says. “The group is waiting for you in the library with uniforms. Go.”
I nod, knowing the library is just down the hall. I turn and run out, excited and frightened. Will I see him tonight? Will this be the moment I finally get to see William? I’m not sure if that frightens or excites me. My stomach fills with a strange, fluttery sensation as I run. I miss the hall that leads to the library, but I don’t realize until I get to the end of the long corridor. Sighing, I turn, and begin running back.
I’m halfway down when a man steps out of the hall.
I crash into him, unable to stop myself in time. His hands steady me quickly, but I scramble backwards, gasping when I lay eyes on him. I only take in a quick glance, because I’m so panicked that I’ve come too far, and I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to lose my privileges, and I don’t want to get into trouble. Most of all, I don’t want to let my girls down again.
“Benjamin,” I stammer, quickly recognizing the man in front of me. “I’m so sorry, I was looking for the library.”
I go to turn, not wanting to go through the “What’s your name?” thing again, only to see as I’m going, that his hair is too long to be Benjamin. It’s tied, and hanging down his back. Benjamin had short hair; I distinctly remember it. I stop, and my eyes widen as I take him in. He’s equally as tall as Benjamin, and his body just as muscled and powerful. He’s wearing a tux that perfectly sculpts around his large, muscled body.
His black hair is long, but it’s tied at the base of his neck with an elastic band. His face, oh God, it’s breathtaking, even though he’s wearing a fancy mask that covers one
eye fully, curling off his face in almost an angel-wing style, while the other half just wraps around his eye, allowing only one to be seen. His skin is that silken olive color, and his jaw is strong and masculine. I move my gaze up to the eye I can see and...oh...oh my God.
It’s the exact same crystal-blue that Benjamin’s are.
Now I think of it, this man looks exactly like Benjamin. Only his hair is longer, and he’s a little more built.
But there is no doubt in my mind that this man is Benjamin’s twin.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I murmur quickly.
I can’t stay here; I’ve already been caught running into someone before. I don’t want to bring any more trouble onto myself.
I turn and begin rushing off; when he rasps so quietly I can hardly hear him, “No problem, frumusețe.”
No...
I skid to a halt, and quickly turn back, only to see the back of him disappearing down the hall. Master William. That’s Master William? Master William and Benjamin are twins? Brothers? I stand, staring at his retreating form for the longest moment, with my mouth hanging open. He’s walking away quickly, as if he doesn’t want me to figure out who he is. I open my mouth before I can think, and I yell, “William?”
He stops, stiffens, and turns. His face is scrunched, and his jaw is tight. From here, he is the image of beauty. With the elegant mask curling off his face, and his perfectly pressed tux, he looks like he’s fallen from the heavens. He’s divine. He’s what woman would call perfection. Why is he hiding himself from us? Why would anyone hide themselves when they look so...so...breathtaking.
“I’m sorry I ran into you,” I finally squeak out, and then before he can answer I disappear down the hall towards the library.
I press myself against the wall as soon as I’m out of sight, and press a hand to my heart. I cannot believe that just happened. I saw him, the man who has captured my life and put it at a standstill. I expected a lot, but something I didn’t expect was for him to be so completely stunning. It doesn’t add up in my mind now, though. Why would someone who is as gorgeous as he need to keep thirteen girls captive? It doesn’t make sense.