She’s alive.
I close my eyes, tricking myself into thinking I have control over not being able to see anything as the guards march me further away. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. Multiple chains rattle over my voice as I continue apologizing to them. If they got away, I’d be fine with them hating me. For the first time in my life, I had people who were there forme. Not because of my family, or what they could take. But they hate me now, adding another reason for me to hate myself.
When the guards release me from their hold, I fall forward only to hit something cool. It’s too dark to see what it is as I hesitantly press my fingers around the material.
Flat, smooth, cold.
Glass.
I continue moving my hands further apart, only to meet corners with the same cold glass. They’ve put me in a fucking box. I’m roughly pulled back by my hair before cold, unyielding metal is cuffed around my neck. The box gets smaller, forcing me to stand with my back against a rough block of wood. The cuffs around my neck and wrists are secured to the block, preventing me from falling in the thin heels.
Before I can scream, a robotic voice filters through the ceiling, announcing, “Welcome to The Rainbow Rooms. You may look around, you may participate, you may be sick to your stomach. You may not, under any circumstance, divulge information from behind our doors. Enjoy your stay. Remember, damages will be applied for loss of product.”
My blood turns to ice at the way they’re speaking about this fucking place. Rape isn’t a business. Neither is pedophilia. Yet I’m proven wrong as harsh light comes from the other side of the room. One above them and one below, showcasing the little girl who sits with her legs stretched out in front of her, sucking her thumb in another glass box like my own as it slowly raises.
“Stop! I’ll go instead!” I scream, stretching my neck to see the guards positioned behind me.
No one reacts to my screams as they remain in their own glass cases. My mother had figurines she would sit on the mantel in a protective glass case. Now all twenty of us are figurines,thingsto entertain sadistic, soulless monsters.
“The first category is Pink,” the robotic voice says.
She’s a baby in a fucking diaper.
My ragged breathing echoes off the glass as I keep hitting it, screaming at them to fucking stop. I see the little boy who was crying in the dorm, his mouth open wide, tears streaming down his face. I can’t hear anything—we’re not to be heard, only seen.
“Bidding for a one-month term will begin in five, four, three, two, one,” the robotic voice says as the little girl presses her small hands on the floor of the glass box to stand. She wobbles on her feet in her pink dress, the bows on the back and shoulders bobbing with her movements as I look up at her. I cry harder as the thin strap falls off her shoulder and she presses her hands to the glass box, but the angle prevents me from seeing what she can while sick fucks are bidding on her.
I catch Nova’s fury-filled eyes through my blurry vision, and she mouths,Your. Family.
“I’m sorry!” I scream. “I’m sorry!”
73
DELILAH
Sasha is in her element, cutting into her human steak with a smile on her face as we wait for the auction to begin. The argument we had about her having to wear a different mask has been forgotten. She’s still carrying death with her since she decided to color the front of the half Venetian mask like a skull, matching her monochromatic suit like an agent of death.
I took a higher dose of ketamine to be able to stop myself from sweating through my suit, but it makes me question everything around me. There’s no stage for an auction to take place. All the tables and chairs are arranged to leave a large empty ring, splitting the groups of tables.
“An inner circle,”Asher says.
I nod as I bring my tumbler to my lips, pretending to take a sip. The floor between the inner circle and the ring of tables I’m seated in has large square shapes on it, like hatches. Due to Sasha’s need to argue to keep her mask, we were late to the first pick up, so we missed the start of the auction. If she makes me lose Delilah, I’m kicking her ass. Or making her become a vegan. She’d probably prefer the beating.
She’s nearly finished with her food while I’ve been examining everyone around us. They all laugh, make small talk with the people on their tables, like this is some perverse date night. We’re the only ones who are silent.
The mirror-masked waiting staff step forward from the wood paneled walls to collect the plates. Their uniforms are like any other expensive catering staff—black slacks, stark white button down, a thin black tie. They even wear white gloves to match the opulent décor of crystal chandeliers and moody lighting.
With the course over, the lights dim and the robotic voice that announced our welcome in the tunnels says, “The next category is Green.”
Sasha leans closer to me, gripping my empty left sleeve as we peer over the table where a harsh white light fills the edges of the notch on the floor. The lights increase from the sole source as a glass box raises from the floor like an elevator, revealing a teenaged boy. He can’t be any older than seventeen as he stands with shackles wrapped around his arms and ankles, a thick chain linking his four limbs together, soundlessly clinking as he turns in a circle.
When he looks at me, my jaw goes lax. I’ve replayed every conversation I ever had with Kid to keep his memory alive. I listened to him talk about the boy who taught him things for hours, so I could draw him from those descriptions alone.
It’s him.
Fuck! I don’t have enough money to bid on him and Delilah. The buy-in was fucking expensive and I already owe Decker’s acquaintance for finding the information, but I can’t sit here when I promised Kid I’d find Jasper and Xanthe. They’re his family, they deserve to know?—
“You killed him?”
