I looked up at him, wanting to see his face, his eyes. Needing to in order to read him.
“Let me see your face.”
He paused. Had he been expecting something else? “Going under again, deep breath.”
I barely had time to think, gulping air before he shoved me under then, moments later, pulled me back up.
“Your name, at least tell me your name.”
“Shouldn’t you be asking different questions?”
He dunked me again, three times more before the suds were gone. He pulled the plug from the drain.
He took one of the two threadbare towels from the rack—again making me think of those who had come before me—and once the water had drained, he draped it over my shoulders and lifted me up to stand. He held on to me when he did so, maybe testing himself how much the drug had worn off. Not nearly enough, considering my knees buckled as soon as I stood upright.
Wrapping one of the towels around me, he carried me back into the bedroom and deposited me on the bed.
“Questions like what’s going to happen to me once I’m sold?”
Leaving me there, he went back into the bathroom to return a moment later with a hairbrush. I noticed the hairs stuck in the bristles. Blonde and red and brown. I wanted to throw up.
He opened the towel as if unwrapping a candy bar and pulled it out from under me, then patted me dry before dropping it on the floor.
Goose bumps rose all over my body, both at the cold temperature in the room on my still damp skin and the thought of my future. Of the fate that awaited me.
“Or who will buy me, and what will my new owner expect of me?”
He sat leaning against the headboard and lifted me up so that he cradled me between his thighs, making me very aware of my naked back against his bare chest. At least he was warm. After towel drying my hair with the second towel, he started to brush it, his touch not quite gentle, but also not cruel. Not purposely at least.
“Will he fuck me himself, or pass me around to a dozen friends to initiate me?”
I wondered if he used that tone—quiet and unaffected—on purpose. If it was meant to scare me. If his breath on my face was to let me know I would have no boundaries. That nothing was mine anymore, not even the air I breathed.
Could he feel the quiet tremors breaking me apart inside?
Would he be so callous if he could?
“Or maybe something as simple as will they use lube?”
He chuckled at that, but there was no joy in his tone. In fact, he grew more and more despondent with each comment he made, his tugs on my hair working out the knots, becoming slightly rougher each time as if he paid less and less attention.
He left me to ponder that last one for a while, and when he was able to pull the brush through without a snag, he lay me back down and stood.
I shifted and rolled onto my side, the sedative slowly loosening its hold on me. The tingling in my limbs told me it was almost over. I’d be free of it soon.
But not soon enough.
“Maybe something more imminent, like what punishment can I expect for my earlier transgression?”
Punishment.
He rolled me onto my belly and pulled me toward the foot of the bed until my legs hung over the edge.
I tried to push myself over or off the bed, but that proved too difficult. When he saw my attempt, he snickered.
“You want to see my face?” he asked, his voice quiet.
He came around to where I lay, my right cheek pressed against the bed.
