If these walls could talk, what atrocities would they reveal in hushed whispers?
I paused in the shadows, listening for footsteps. My ears pricked at a distant sound and I realized a guard was on patrol. I slipped into one of the empty unlocked rooms and waited for the sound of his footsteps to pass me by.
My heart hammered in my chest at the threat of being discovered. Everything rode on me to get us out. I couldn’t get caught now. With my luck it would be that asshole who wanted to murder me for funsies. No doubt he’d delight in sticking a nightstick up my ass for my smart mouth.
I waited a good five minutes to ensure that the guard was gone from the floor, then exited the room. I peered into the darkness and saw the guard already downstairs, disappearing into another area. I needed to get past him and search the rest of the house. My ears strained for the slightest noise that gave away a guard on patrol. Thankfully, they had no reason to disguise their presence and they weren’t concerned with being silent like I was.
By my count, it seemed there were three guards on patrol and they were pooling in another room, after their required patrol.
Thankfully, Madame Moirai’s guard staff were stupid, lazy fucks because they didn’t seem to think we were capable of trying to escape.
I made it downstairs and followed the sound of their voices until I was pressed against the opposite wall and able to hear their every word.
I recognized the voice of the asshole and suppressed a shudder.
“I don’t know what’s so special about that little bitch in room five. If it were up to me, I’d put her in the ground.”
“Well, it’s not up to you,” another voice growled a reminder. “Keep your hands to yourself. She’s going to elevate. If Madame Moirai discovers you’ve done anything to fuck up her plans, you’ll be the one in the ground.”
“Fuck, I know that,” grumbled Asshole. “I’m just saying, I don’t get why she’s so special. She ain’t got that great of tits and her face is just meh. Hell, I think that little bitch in room three is a sweeter piece of ass and she’s less trouble.”
Asshole was talking about Jilly. Fucker.
“Well, we don’t get paid to make those decisions,” the other said. “Did you check the locks?”
“Tight as a drum, as always,” asshole sighed with annoyance that he was even asked. “Are you kidding me, those scared little bitches are afraid of their own shadows at this point.”
The fuck we are.
Light laughter followed. “Yeah, that one in Room Two really got it good. Surprised she even came back in one piece at all,” a new voice chimed in. “Hell, the last time a girl came in like that, she bled out by morning. Gotta hand it to her, she’s a scraper.”
“She’s proven she can take a hit,” Asshole agreed, adding, “it’s a shame, though. That one had great tits. I wouldn’t mind going a few rounds with her. I don’t get why these rich pricks gotta tear up good merch. It’s like pissing in a goddamn Ferrari, you know?”
I wanted to throw up. They were talking about us like we were nothing. I balled my fists to keep from running in there and attacking the first one I could reach.
“It’s their merch. They can do what they want with it. Even if it means pissing on a fine piece of ass.”
Asshole asked, “Hey, what do you think about paying Room Two a visit tonight? Sleeping beauty might like a little action before lights out, you know?”
“Keep your dick in your pants, Darryl,” the voice ground out in annoyance, as if this was something Asshole suggested often. “The last thing we need is your fucking DNA everywhere. Stop thinking with your fucking cock or else you’re going to find yourself in a world of hurt.”
“All right, all right,” Darryl grumbled, backing down. “I was just saying…could be fun.”
So Asshole’s name was Darryl. I filed away that information. Not sure for what, but I was collecting anything and everything that might prove useful later.
“It’s your turn to deal.”
They were playing cards to pass the time. That worked in my favor. I’d heard enough. I carefully backed away, and crept down the opposite hall, my eyes wide and wary. I was pretty sure it was only those three guards but I wasn’t willing to stake my life on it.
The house was massive. I felt the ticking of the clock pressing against me. I searched room upon room, finding most empty, as if they were never used but others I found dressed with fine furnishings like a showroom. I was starting to piece together how the house was used. The furnished rooms were likely where the potential clients were given the sales pitch. The rest of the rooms were for storage or left empty.
I bypassed the elevator and found the staircase leading to the subfloor. I recognized the difference in the smell. Even as finely as this house was made, the subfloor had a subtle dank smell that reminded me of mildew hiding in the walls. I started to shake, remembering the auction.
I hadn’t taken the Xanax. My memory was crystal-clear and agonizingly vivid but I was grateful I hadn’t let Olivia talk me into it swallowing that pill.
I found the room where the auction was held.
The center stage was empty, the lights off. Smoked glass panes of glass surrounded the center. Chains with manacles hung silent from the ceiling. We four had been hung like sides of beef in this place, twisting and turning helplessly as men hid behind privacy glass to bid in complete anonymity.
Tears pricked my eyes but I held them back. Now wasn’t the time. Tana wasn’t in here. I backed out of the hateful room and continued my search. The subfloor was a maze of rooms, some functional and some empty, similar to upstairs.
This entire house was a machine with one purpose — the sale of young girls and maybe boys. Hell, I didn’t know if Madame Moirai specialized in one gender or was an equal opportunity predator. I didn’t want to know.
The smell of humiliation and despair clung to my nostrils even though the floors looked immaculate. Once, in my mom’s brief hippy phase, she’d hooked up with this supposed guru who could see energy and read people’s auras. Of the long line of my mother’s boyfriends, Byron had been the least offensive, but he’d been weird as fuck.
He told me — while high as a kite on Ayahuasca — that everything retained residual energy, which was why people thought houses were haunted.
“It’s just energy, man,” he’d said, gazing up at the cracked and water damaged ceiling of our shit-hole apartment as if he were counting stars. “Energy is everything.”
I’d thought he was full of shit and his brains had been eaten out by all the drugs he did but maybe he’d been right. I could feel a darkness clinging to the walls, seeping into the house’s pores, oozing from each crack and crevice. As if I could hear the screams of girls’ long gone echoing in this basement, crying out in terror.
Fear was a powerful energy. It definitely left its mark.
I ground out the tears in my eyes and kept going, determined to make it out of this place alive. I wouldn’t be like those other girls. I wouldn’t end up in the ground or at the mercy of Darryl the Sociopathic Guard.
One last door to check and then I had to admit that Tana wasn’t here. I tried the door. It was locked. Wild hope flickered in my heart. They only kept the girls in locked rooms. I pulled out my bobby pins and impatiently worked the lock. My fingers were clumsy with my frantic need to open that door.
Finally, the lock clicked and the door opened. Darkness blanketed the room but I could tell right away there was something distinctly different about this room. The chill in the air was unlike any of the others. It was downright frosty in this room. “Tana?” I whispered into the darkness, hoping against hope she was not in this room. An odd smell tickled my nostrils.