Page 45 of Heal Me

I’m itching to go down to the fancy dining room and rip the throat of every last potential buyer that might end up leaving with Lavinia—hurting her and breaking her after I just healed her.

I consider doing it. But then what? I would be forced to leave this place, and Lavinia’s fate would just be postponed.

I consider going down there and simply snatching her away and keeping her for myself. I could take her up here and tie her to my bed, keep her as my slave. Or maybe let her wander about in my quarters, cooking, watching TV, taking Rex for walks.

The idea lights a spark in a place inside me that has always been cold and barren.

I go to my bedroom and imagine her lying there, her blonde locks spilling over my pillow and her milky white skin draped in my comforter.

The image is beautiful and soothing, but as I imagine time passing—days, months, Lavinia growing used to her new freedom and getting to know more ugly parts of me—the peace shatters. Anxiety creeps in, crippling and clawing, tightening my chest and narrowing my windpipe.

Bringing her up here would give her a taste of freedom and normalcy—something she’ll never get with me. That small taste would grow into something more, and she’d start to resent me for the things I do to her as the normal world came within her grasp. She’d turn on me and see me for the beast I am. Then she would hate me too, just like everyone else in my life always did.

Pressing my hands into the mattress, I lean forward as I suddenly can’t breathe. My vision blurs, and a sharp pain tightens my chest. I wheeze through the constriction, thinking this is it for me.

Rex comes running, rubbing his head against my leg, whining.

I reach my hand back to touch his soft fur—the only creature who has ever stuck with me.

I drop to the floor, heaving through my tight chest as I press my head between my knees.

Rex keeps rubbing his head against me, and feeling him close helps calm me.

I’m not dying. It’s just panic. I haven’t experienced panic this severe since I killed my father and freed myself.

I straighten, and my focus clears somewhat.I need to get out of here. I can’t be here while she’s getting sold, knowing I’m losing her.

29

LAVINIA

Time drags by at a horribly slow pace as I wait in my cell. When a guard comes to give me a toilet break, I inquire about the auction to know when it starts, but as usual, he doesn’t speak to me.

Several hours seem to pass in stagnant, anxious loneliness. It’s not until I’ve eaten my third meal of the day that a guard comes and takes me away to be prepared for the auction. He brings me to the medical room, where the biker-looking guy named Dax straps me into the same chair where Dorin has given me electro “therapy” so many times.

He waxes my legs, my pussy, and my armpits, then flushes out my bowels, using a big, needle-less syringe that he sticks inside my ass to fill my stomach with water. The whole process is not only painful, but humiliating in a way that scrapes away at my humanity. Even so, it doesn’t compare to the aching grief lodged in my chest.

I thought I meant something to Dorin. All the possessive words and eager efforts to heal me. I thought he did it because he wanted me. But at the end of the day, I was only a curious project. A novelty to be explored until he lost interest.

When Dax is through with me, a guard comes to take me away again. He brings me to one of the rooms where they usually wash me. Instead of just letting me stand there, he strings me up by the arms, then hoses me down and washes me with acareless roughness I haven’t experienced before—the first sign that I’m no longer under Dorin’s protection. Next, he takes me to a dressing room with five other girls, who all look like they’ve been through a hell much worse than the one I’ve endured.

The guard points to a pile of lingerie and orders us to find something that fits, then makes us do our hair and make-up.

Two of the girls are trembling and fighting back tears, scared to the bone. The other three look numb—hollowed-out and broken, obeying on autopilot like robots.

I feel ungrateful as I watch them go through the motions that will surely bring them one step closer to their ultimate demise.

I shouldn’t have asked Dorin to sell me. I’m not stupid; I know the men who will pay for women in a place like this are sadists and psychopaths. And now I’m about to end up at the exact same place I fled from a little over a year ago.

I should have accepted Dorin’s offer to find me a good buyer. It would have been a luxury none of the other girls here would ever even get close to. But the thought of spending one more day with Dorin nearly makes me double over as a sharp pain tears through my insides. Tears press behind my eyes, and it takes everything I have to hold them in as I add a little make-up to my eyes and comb out my hair. Being around Dorin, knowing I can never belong to him is just too painful.

So this is the right choice. This way, I get out of the padded cell and get a chance to complete what I couldn’t do the night Dorin found me. If I’m complacent with the man who buys me, or just acting numb and broken like the other girls, he won’t think of me as a threat. I’ll go along, and when the chance strikes, I’ll end my own life.

Once we’re all dressed and have done our hair and make-up, the guard herds us into a large room with red carpets on the floor, beautiful lavish paintings on the walls, and chandeliers in the ceiling. Old-fashioned couches, upholstered chairs, and sidetables with decanters and crystal glasses line the sides of the room, leaving the center empty. Except for a raised podium.

I swallow hard as the guard herds us onto the long podium, his cane slicing through the air to snap at the girls who stumble in the impossibly high heels we’re forced to wear.

Then we just stand there, no one daring to move a finger as we wait.

---