Page 50 of The Boy I Loved
I didn’t miss how some of the women in line recoiled from Mason’s presence as if he alone was a bad omen.
Mason turned to me, gripping my face between his fingers—hard. “Eat. Once you’re done, you’ll be taken back to your cell. Later today, you’ll be evaluated by our doctor.”
“D-doctor?” I repeated.
“Gotta see how much of a whore you’ve been,” he surmised, releasing my face in a swift motion that had me stumbling slightly.
These people didn’t play around. The women around me were all dressed differently but were all wearing something skimpy. Some wore a tank top with panties, some wore thin nighties, and others wore lingerie. My mind was working overdrive, attempting to make sense of it all. It was almost as if … they’d been waiting for me to wake up.
I want my mom.
It was a childish thing to say, or to even think, but I couldn’t help it. This was a place for monsters to feast on their prey without the societal rules inflicted upon them by the government. This was illegal, this was inhumane, this was …
“Don’t cry,” the girl in front of me said after Mason had stalked off. “They kill the ones who cry.”
I stared at the back of her head, my shoulders trembling with the weight of my situation. She had long blonde hair, but it was tangled from lack of treatment. She was dressed in a pair of cheeky underwear, a snug T-shirt sticking to her small frame.
“I’m not going to,” I lied, forcing the tremble out of my voice.
The girl didn’t say anything else; she didn’t even turn around. I glanced around the room subtly, taking note of how still and void of life all the girls seemed to be. Some picked at their food, others whispered to one another, but for the most part, nobody said a thing, sitting as still as statues as if the smallest thing may make them a target.
The line gradually moved, my legs shaking every step of the way. Across the room was Mason, dressed in all black with a man in similar attire standing beside him.
Even the cafeteria ladies looked corrupt. Their stern faces twisted into matching scowls as they dumped processed food on each tray. Then again, they may have simply hated this place and what it stood for. I knew I would.
When it was my turn, one of the elder ladies assessed me for a long moment. Something flickered through her gray eyes but she said nothing, and it was gone as fast as it had arrived. She grabbed a gray tray and loaded it up with scrambled eggs, a fruit cup, and two strips of microwaved bacon.
“Drink station is over there.” She motioned toward her right dismissively.
Reluctantly, I took the tray of food and drifted toward the drinks. I grabbed one of the Styrofoam cups and filled it halfway with Apple Juice before turning my attention to the room again. My chest twisted painfully, my stomach recoiling with agony. The blonde had been right. Crying would only paint a target on my back, and I needed to fly under the radar.
With heavy steps, I made my way toward an empty table and lowered myself into one of the chairs. It was cold and hard, even through the leggings I wore. I couldn’t imagine how the girls felt—the ones who were dressed in practically nothing.
I sat there for a few moments, my gaze pinned on the pale table before me. Once I’d calmed myself down enough, I took the plastic fork between my fingers and stabbed it into the pile of yellow and white eggs.
I was far from hungry, but I didn’t want to get myself in trouble. Not until I learned how this place worked and what it was even for. All I was certain of so far was that it was a trafficking ring of some sort. That had become blatantly obvious when I saw that man fucking—raping—that girl. And then even more so when I saw how they were forced to dress for mealtimes.
I plopped the dry eggs in my mouth, only scrunching my nose slightly before washing them down with the juice.
I didn’t eat as much as I probably should have, but it was enough to get me through the first half of the day, hopefully. Mason had instructed the newbies to form a line at the door and he led usback into the dingy basement—the one filled with cells on either side—while the other girls were taken somewhere else.
Three of the men helped usher us each into our cell, barking orders, calling us degrading names, and joking with one another about disgusting things. I tried to tune them out, tried to think about anything else, but it was hard. I just wanted to break down and wallow in my own self-pity, but I couldn’t.
As soon as I was closed behind the bars again, I crept over to the mattress and lowered myself on it, drawing my knees to my chest. A lone tear seeped out of the corner of my eye, but still, I made no sound. My body vibrated with the sobs threatening to overtake me, but I fought through it.
Fight.
This isn’t the end.
I’ll find a way through it.
I’d always been somewhat optimistic, but during times like these … I wasn’t sure how to be anymore. I felt completely and utterly hopeless.
What the fuck did I do to deserve this?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DOMINIC
