“The clients, customers, monsters, whatever you want to call them,” Lynn hissed, her voice pitched low, quiet. “They knew we weren’t there by choice. Knew we’d been kidnapped, trafficked, and we were—it was—”
Her rough breath was laced with fury, and I stayed exceptionally still on instinct, aware any sound would be like a red rag to a bull. “Rape,” she whispered, so quietly I could have missed the word under the bright, optimistic music of the game. It was a chilling contrast, the colour, happiness, and pomp of the race, with Lynn’s faint rasp of horror.
I let her win the game. Didn’t even try to beat her. Then I pulled open the bottom drawer of the cabinet to my right and took out a bottle of rum. I had no glasses here, didn’t usually bother with them.
“Do you drink?” I asked, my voice neutral.
Her laugh was abraded, low. “Yeah, I fucking drink. Give me that.”
She snatched it from my hand, her nails carving fucking trails on my hand.
“Ow,” I complained, holding up my hand.
“You’ll live,” she dismissed, taking a long swig.
“I need a tetanus shot,” I muttered, inspecting the scratches.
“Oh, get a personality transplant while you’re at the hospital. They might do a two-for-one.”
I gave her a flat, unimpressed look, but it was a relief to see her smirking.
“You’re full of so much shit,” she told me, passing over the rum when I motioned for it. “I said that fucking word, and I don’t feel any different.”
“Did you not hear me say the phraselong term?”
She was quiet for a beat, and then a deep, growling scream built in her throat. “So I raked myself over the hot coals of my own memories fornothing.”
“That’s descriptive. You should take up creative writing.”
Lynn bared her teeth, which might have threatened me if she had the sharp points of an omega.
“It takes time,” I sighed. “And constant work, day after day. It’s not one battle, Lynn, it’s an entire war. It’s a hell you have to force yourself through every fucking night, and then again when you get up in the morning.”
“So what’s the point?” she asked, a little empty. Worry panged in my chest, and when I blinked I saw the empty, unmoving body of my only friend. Lynn wasn’t the only one who’d been rented by the hour. My pimp sent in a fucking client even while Hanna lay dead in the bed across from mine. I stared into her blank eyes the whole time. Looking at Lynn now was like looking into Hanna’s eyes.
I swallowed another gulp of rum, focused on the burn. I’d love to tell her it got better, easier, that life took on bright, new meaning. All I had was: “Some days are easier to get through.”
Her laugh was caustic, brittle.
“Yeah,” I agreed, like she’d spoken words.
“So what’s the point? In all this.” She flicked angry hands at the room, the compound, the world.
“It’s better than being dead.” I handed her the bottle. “Want another race?”
She stared right through me, her eyes unfocused, and then she sighed, “Fine. It’s better than being dead.”
10
Lynn
Four weeks passed in a numb, endless drag. I gained consciousness after nightmares that scoured my brain until my head pounded, my chest emptied, and my stomach tightened into a knot that made eating impossible. Then I hauled myself across the clubhouse to Cobra’s game room, tech room, whatever he wanted to call it. Sometimes Devil was there, and I’d destroy both of them at Mario Kart. Sometimes we played other games, and I made sure they died first because it was fun, for a split second, to watch their shock dissolve into accusing anger. The emotions never lasted long, devoured by the numbness.
But I was alive, so that was a win. And healed enough that my stitches were removed, my hands as mended as they were going to get, my ankle no longer twinging when I walked. Physically, I was back to normal. Mentally, I was a wasteland.
Some evenings, I allowed ChaCha to confiscate me for family meals in the sanctuary, where I choked down food that I didn’t taste, didn’t want, but needed to survive. Sometimes I hated it. Sometimes it was fun.
Then I got completely piss-drunk, either in the sanctuary or the Knights’ bar and rec room, and passed out so hard I got a few hours sleep before the nightmares woke me.
