Page 30 of Pageant

Alejandra is in cage one. No wonder she looks terrified. Whatever happens to us is probably going to happen to her first. “There’s no need to hang back. You should go and get ready.”

“No,” she says through her teeth. “Screw them and their sick games.”

A perfectly understandable reaction, but not one that’s going to keep her alive.

I take my place at her side, and together we watch the other women pulling on their bikinis and sorting through boxes of makeup. Some seem dazed. Others have fallen into the zone, testing shades of foundation on their wrists and brushing their hair like we’re backstage at a fashion show.

Alejandra glances at me uncertainly. “Aren’t you going to get ready?”

I shake my head. “As long as they have me to punish, they won’t hurt you, so I won’t get ready, either.”

Alejandra turns pale. “They really will punish us?”

“You saw what happened to the last Number Eleven. Men like this don’t take no for an answer.”

“I thought that was just because she was screaming,” Alejandra mutters, twisting her fingers together. “They will cut me if I don’t obey?”

“I’m sorry, yes. They meant every word.”

Alejandra’s face creases and she’s on the verge of tears. “But I don’t want to play this game. I just want to go home.”

My heart twists painfully in my chest as I think of mybabulya’shome and her garden full of flowers. What I wouldn’t give to be with my grandmother right now. “So do I. We all do. As long as you’re alive, there’s still hope of getting out of this. We’ll find a way, together.”

I speak as softly as I can so the guards don’t overhear me, but most of their attention is on the long legs and bare skin that’s suddenly on display.

Alejandra brushes the tears from her cheeks. “All right. I’ll go and get ready. But what about you?”

I give her a quick smile. “I’ll be fine. Go choose your swimsuit, and then I’ll grab whatever’s left.”

She does, and when I go over to the rack a few minutes later, there’s only one swimsuit remaining. It’s a beige bikini two sizes too big for me. I put it on and tie knots in the briefs and the top to make it fit better, and then add the white satin Number Eleven sash over the top. I don’t have the energy for makeup, but I pass a brush through my hair, use the bathroom, and drink water from the single cold tap, and then stand at the side of the room, trying to ignore my growling stomach.

Ten minutes later, the guards corral us all upstairs and along a marble corridor. Most of the curtains are drawn, but I get one quick glimpse out a window and see a beautiful garden and sunlight sparkling on blue water. The ocean? Or a lake? That’s interesting. I wonder how many of these women are strong swimmers. Perhaps we could escape across the water.

The house itself has towering ceilings and expensive old-world décor. It feels hundreds of years old but kept in pristine condition. We pass a bookcase, and I recognize Italian words in gold on leather-bound books.

My heart leaps. Could we still be in Italy? If so, the families of the missing women won’t have far to look for us. I’m not going to sit back and wait for a rescue, but it’s a possibility that someone might come for us.

We’re forced into a room and made to wait by an enormous carved wooden door. We all stare at it in trepidation, wondering what’s on the other side. The three Russian men, I presume, waiting to stare at us, judge us, make us dance to their twisted tune. Will they call us in one at a time and enjoy us trembling in fear before them? Or will we all go in at once and be able to draw strength from each other? I have a horrible feeling it’s going to be the former and we’ll be made to face these men alone.

One of the guards patrols around us with his snarling, slavering dog. No one dares speak.

Mentally, I catalog all the terrible things that could happen to us on the other side of that door. I wonder if we’ll be raped. Ivan was never gentle, and he never asked if I wanted to have sex with him. He was just on me suddenly, and I learned to switch off and think about something else. The fact that I never had an orgasm was beneath his notice.

I picture Elyah forcing me to have sex with him. Making me hurt one of the other women or have them hurt me, and cold sweat breaks over me. Who will we be once the sun sets tonight? Sixteen broken dolls, played with roughly and cast aside?

Bruised. Bleeding. Crying.

An accented voice over a loudspeaker calls, “Number One.”

Suddenly, the door opens, revealing a dark room beyond and a guard standing in the doorway. My stomach feels like it’s been sucked out of my abdomen. The guard searches the women for the one wearing the Number One sash. Alejandra shoots me a terrified glance over her shoulder as he grabs her and drags her through the door.

“No, please!Meu Deus,” Alejandra wails.My God.

I feel like I’m watching her being led to her execution. All around me, fourteen women cover their faces and huddle together, some of them breaking into sobs. This is wrong. This isobscene. Maybe we shouldn’t be playing along, biding our time until we find a means of escaping. Maybe we should rebel right this second and take our chances, guns and dogs be damned.

I dash forward and reach for Alejandra, my only thought to pull her back to us as I scream, “Let her go!”

The guard turns his rifle around and slams the butt into my ribs. All the wind is knocked out of me and I double over.

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