Number Thirteen (7 page)

He doesn’t speak as he raises my shirt, and brings the belt over my back twenty times. The pain is intense, and each crack of the belt echoes through the room. I don’t scream; I won’t give them that. I bite my lip so hard blood fills my mouth, and tears run down
my face as he nears the end. My back feels like it’s on fire, and the hate I have for William burns in my chest.

T
hey leave us down here for twenty-four hours. In that time, the guards come and take Number Twelve. She’s gone for only an hour before she’s returned, looking pink in the cheeks. They immediately take Number Seven after her, and I know they’re taking them to Master William. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but it seems he’s seeking something in us girls. He picked this group for a reason, though I can’t see enough of a similarity between us to know what that reason is.

The only thing we have in common is that we’re gentle. There’s something fragile about all of us.

Though I’m sure Master William has changed his mind about me by now. I don’t understand how he couldn’t have. I’m the only one who speaks out to him, and because of it, I’ve been punished. Remembering the pun Vesnatunderstandishment has the welts on my back aching in response. I’m starving, sore, and tired. They’ve not fed us since we’ve been down here, nor have they given us water. My back is against the wall, and it burns every time I move. I’m on the verge of losing it, but I won’t show that kind of weakness to the other girls.

Four hours later, I give in to that weakness.

My heart breaks as I begin to sob, furious at myself for my lack of strength. My back, it hurts so badly. I can’t keep the tears at bay now, because it’s just become too much. I need relief; I just want to get out of here.

I try to keep my sobbing quiet, but soon it becomes loud and noisy. The others look over at me, but they’re helpless. What can they do? They can’t move to help me, and their words will do nothing. It won’t take the pain away.

I sob for an hour before someone comes in. It’s the head guard, George, I believe. He walks over, followed by four other guards. They each grab one of the girls, with one supervising, and they unshackle them, leading them out. George turns to me, and he leans down, doing the same for me. He leads me out of the room, and my legs work only because I’m forcing them too. I’m exhausted.

I expect George to take me to my room, he doesn’t. He takes me to Master William. I start sobbing even more. “Don’t take me in there,” I cry.

He doesn’t even acknowledge me; it’s as though I haven’t even spoken. He knocks three times on Master William’s door before turning to me and placing a blindfold over my eyes. “JESUS!” I yell out, just before my voice quivers. “Just let me see him.”

He opens the door, and shoves me in so I take two steps. Two hands instantly take my arms. I know that it’s William. I cringe and try to jerk out of his grip, but he’s too strong. He leads me further into the room, and things get darker behind the blindfold. He makes a bit of noise for a second or two, then he is trying to push me, belly first, onto something I can’t see.

“No,” I whimper. “Please.”

He keeps pushing until my weak knees can do nothing but buckle. I feel my body press against what seems to be a table, though there’s a pillow that cushions my face. I turn my head to the side, and tears leak out of my eyes and slide down my cheeks as I feel myself becoming frenzied. William’s hands are at my shirt, and slowly, he raises it. I feel it peeling off my moist, damaged skin, and I cry out in pain.

Is he going to hit me again?

At the thought of that, I suddenly thrash, and try to launch myself off the bed. He presses me down by my shoulders, and murmurs a hushed, “Be still,
frumusețe.”

I know what that word means now; he’s calling me “beauty.” I drop my head in exhaustion, and my body sinks into the table. I’m completely stripped of any fight. I just can’t bring my weak body to battle him.

His hands are on my skin, and he skims his fingertips over my welting skin. I yelp as it burns beneath his touch. He hushes me again, and I hear him rustling around before his fingers return, only this time they’re covered in a cool balm. The relief is instant, and my entire body shudders. He moves his fingers over me until my skin is cool and completely covered, then he moves my shirt down and lifts me up.

Once again I find myself on his lap, with his arms around me. It’s obviously some sort of trust exercise, but what I don’t know is why he wants me to trust him? It seems important to him. I have so many questions, but I already know he won’t answer them. Master William answers only what he wants to, and even then it& [eve to him. I#8217;s as if he speaks in riddles. Like he wants us to take ourselves around in circles until we become confused and just stop trying.

“What do you want with us?” I try anyway.

He strokes a hand over my arm.

“Please,” I plead. “Give me something.”

“Give only to those who give to you,
frumusețe.
”

Riddles again.

“Is that what you want from me? You want me to give myself to you?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Why do you keep my memories from me?”

“Sometimes memories are best left forgotten,” he murmurs into my hair.

“It’s not your right to take them.”

“It’s not your right to have them when they cause nothing more than pain,” he retorts, though his voice is still soft.

“I cannot give myself to you when you will not tell me why we’re here.”

He’s silent again, and his finger tangles into my hair. He’s outright refusing to give me any part of him. And why would he? I’m nothing more than a slave to him. I close my eyes, gathering myself.

“It’s a two-way street,” I say, in a soft voice. “You give me something, I give you something. I’ve given you part of me, by sitting here on your lap. Now, I ask that you answer one question for me. Why thirteen girls?”

He’s silent for so long I’m sure he’s going to ignore me, and just continue with his stroking until I go crazy and yell at him again. Just as I’m about to open my mouth and protest, he speaks. His voice comes out thick, and full of emotion.

“I was thirteen the day they stripped my innocence from me, and turned me into
t
his. Now do
not
ask me questions again unless I give you permission.”

“Y
ou can’t avoid the meeting, Will,” my brother Ben says down the phone.

“I’m fully aware of that, Ben, but I’ve got pressing things that need to be dealt with right now.”

“It’s an hour.”

I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Fine, I’ll head over for an hour.”

“I’ll see you then.”

I press the phone down, and feel my jaw clenching. Ben is the only family that I’ve got who cares enough to constantly check up on me. He works for my father, and I’m the silent partner who does all my work from here. I’m the one he doesn’t want the world to know about. I’m the child he’s
ashamed
of.

I turn to my desk and lift a phone to my ear, dialing George. He answers on the first ring, as he always does.

“Yes, Master?”

“I have to go and meet Ben. I’ll be gone for around an hour and a half. I need you to make sure the girls are all secured in their rooms. They’re not to come out until I return.”

“I can do that, sir.”

“Thank you, George.”

I hang up and stand, pulling on my suit jacket and exiting the room. I got out the back door, and walk around to where my car sits in the garage. I’m not one for having someone drive me places. I don’t trus ^eve t0;Fine, t another person enough to let them risk my life by driving me. I unlock the small Audi and slide into the front seat.

Here goes an hour of my life with a man I despise.

T
he meeting is at my father’s business in the middle of the city. It’s a well-established place, and he owns branches throughout the country. I park my car in a reserved spot, and pull on the eye patch I refuse to go in public without. I straighten my shoulders and step out of the car and into the lot. There’s an elevator here that will lead me directly to my father’s receptionist.

The moment I step into the room, she smiles at me. She always does, and I know it’s out of
pity
. People always pity the damaged, but what they don’t understand is that we don’t want their pity, we just want to be treated
normally.
She knows I’m here for my father, so she nods towards his office and murmurs, “They’re waiting for you.”

I jerk my chin in a sharp nod, and walk into the room. The minute I step in, I see Ben standing by the window, puffing on a cigar. He looks over at me, and his eyes brighten, but behind that brightness I can see the pain he always has in his gaze when he looks at me. I know he blames himself for what happened, and I’ve stopped trying to convince him it wasn’t his fault.

His hair is cut fairly short, and curls around his ears. He has light-blue eyes, just like...
mine
. He’s a powerful man, standing at six-foot tall. He’s strong, and well built. He wears a crisp gray suit with a blue tie that brings out the color in his eyes.

I turn to my father, who is glaring at me. He’s aging now, and his once dark hair is silver. His skin is wrinkling, but his eyes are as stark blue as they always were.

The man sitting at the table isn’t someone I’ve seen before. He’s older, with a balding head and square glasses. If his stomach gets any bigger, it’ll pop out of the suit that’s straining to keep it in. He doesn’t even acknowledge my presence; he just stares down at the mass of papers in front of him. Ben walks over, clapping me on the shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, brother.”

I nod at him. “Let’s get this over with.”

“
Stai, Benjamin
,” my father rasps, ordering Ben to sit.

He does. My father’s glare comes back to me, and with a growl, I sit, too.

“James,” my father begins. “This is my son, Benjamin. He will take over the company when I go. He’s very talented, and I’m sure you’ll find him suited for the tasks we have set out for him.”

The man reaches over the table, and shakes Ben’s hand. “Good to meet you, son.”

“And this is Will.” My father looks me in the face as he says to the man, “He’s a silent partner.” Not his son
. Never his son
. “But he comes to these things to be kept in the loop.” Father’s voice is empty, as though I’m no more than a piece of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

He doesn’t refer to me as his son because he’s ashamed of me; he always has been. My chest coils tightly, and the urge to reach over and grasp his collar, strangling him until all the breath leaves his body, is quite strong.

“My name is William,” I growl, glaring at my father. He snorts, and waves me off.

There’s not a person around, asid c arer’se from Ben, who calls me Will. My father knows this, yet he does it anyway, because he enjoys bringing me pain.  The man turns his bored expression to me, and studies my face. “What happened to you?”

I stiffen, but like every other time that question is asked, Ben steps in.

“That’s none of your concern. We’
re here to discuss the finances, so let’s get started so we can leave, yes?”

L
ying on this bed hurts, it hurts so badly. By the time I get back to my room and shower for the night, I am utterly exhausted. I crawl into bed after eating dinner, and I cry out when the sheets feel like sandpaper against my skin. I roll to my side, and throw the blanket over my body so my back is exposed to the cool air. Even though the pain is awful, I still find myself spinning quickly into the deep sleep that takes me each night.

We’re woken early the next morning, with the guards swinging our door open and barking at us to get up. Slowly, I force my sore, aching body out of bed and I stare over at the door with blurry eyes. “You girls are doing the kitchen as well as the washing today. Because of your stupid mistake to try and escape yesterday, you’re taking over the chores for group three today.”

Great.

Like zombies, we all drag our bodies from bed, our eyes heavy, our heads hanging. We eat, dress, and then head out with the guards. As we walk down the halls, we pass the others girl’s rooms. I see some of their doors are open, and they’re sitting on their beds. I stare in at them, feeling oddly connected, even though we’ve not had a chance to interact at all since the first day. I guess it’s just an emotional connection because we all understand something about the other person.

We are all in the same boat.

We’re set to work with the washing first, and between thirteen girls, guards and a master, that washing isn’t a small amount. We set out with a task each—one washes, one dries, one irons, and one folds. It takes a bit of time between each, so we sweep floors and tidy up as we wait. By the time lunch rolls around, my back is throbbing to the point where I feel ill. I know I can’t stop, though, so I push myself to continue.

In the kitchen, I can only see one camera, which is good to know. There’s also a massive walk-in pantry, so every now and then we slip in there and whisper to each other. It’s mostly the other girls checking to see if I’m okay, but at least we can talk without being seen. Obviously we are figured out, though, because a guar
d comes into the room instead of waiting outside, and he stands watching us for the rest of the day.