Still, I keep my eyes closed. Mama told me never to open my eyes until Master asked me to, or he will punish her, and I don’t like to see Mama cry.
I hear him stand and move away. There’s a loud noise before Mama cries out. I shiver, squeezing my eyes so I can keep them closed.
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, bitch,” he screams. “Remember, pet,” That’s his other name for Mama. “You’re twenty now. I kept you longer than the others because I liked you more. But don’t think you can tell me when she’s ready.”
Mama makes a small sound. I know he’s hurting her. Biting my tongue, I press my little knees tight into the ground so I don’t run to her.
“She’s eight now, just like you when you became my big girl. Did you forget?” Another sound from Mama makes me feel sad. “You’re old news now, pet. Her pussy is ripe and ready. My perfect kitten is ready for cock.” He laughs. I hate that sound. “Get her ready. I have guests that want her.”
Guests. I’m shaking now. I’m scared. My tummy feels funny like the time I vomited because I was hungry. But I’m not hungry. Master only feeds us one meal daily, so Mama taught me not to think about my empty stomach. How to paint and read so that it made me forget about food. And now, I can stay without it.
I know this feeling in my tummy is from fear because I know what guests mean. I’ve heard them come and take Mama to the red room. Sometimes she came back sore and crying. Sometimes the other man, who sits by the door watching us, will bring a sleeping mama and leave her on the bed. When that happens, I wash her wounds with the small towel we share, then lie down next to her and hold her tight because I know when she wakes up, she will cry from the pain.
I hear Master leave and the door close before Mama’s arms are around me, squeezing tight. A tiny sound—I don’t know if it’s a cry—I can’t hold back, slips out. “I’m scared, mama,” I say into her shoulder.
“Cinder.” Mama leans back to look at me. Her eyes are red, and there is a mark on her cheek. I reach up to touch it. She covers my hand, smiling down at me, then palms my cheeks. “Listen to me, baby. I can’t promise when your prince will come, but before he does, you will meet the monsters first. They will make you do horrible things. They will hurt you. They will kill your poor little soul and leave you in hell.” She catches the single tear on my cheek, and we look at it and then at each other. Slowly mama shakes her head. “I need you to be strong. I need you to remember what I taught you.”
I haven’t cried before, so I don’t know how to feel about that tear. “Not to cry no matter what,” I said. “And if I wanted to, to save my tears for the man worthy of my soul.” I didn’t know what a soul was, and Mama always tells me that my prince, when he comes, will make me understand what it is.
“Yes, my baby. Your prince will come. He will save you and kill all the monsters that hurt you.”
Happiness bubbles in my chest, letting me forget Master for a bit. “How will I know him, Mama?”
She smiles. “Because he will never touch or take from you without your permission. He will never hurt you, not even a little, and if he does by mistake, he will kiss it better.” She ran soft fingers down my cheek. “I’m sorry, my baby. I tried to save you from this pain Master will bring you, and I know I should have, but I couldn’t take your life.”
“You didn’t want me to live?” I ask, sad.
“Oh, baby.” She kisses my brow. “Of course, I wanted you to live. Not here, though. This is not the perfect home I would’ve wanted for us. When you were born and Master laid eyes on you, I knew this day would come. I didn’t want you to go through the pain I suffered. I tried to take your life that day. Then you opened your pretty eyes, and I fell in love. I couldn’t kill you.” She brushes her fingers through my hair the way I like. “I tried again when you were a bit bigger, but they wouldn’t let me.” She looked at the man sitting by the door, his eyes on us. He never smiled or talked. Sometimes I wondered if he were alive.
“What if I really want to cry?”
“Then I want you to bite your tongue until it bleeds.”
Both my hands covered my mouth. “Mama,” I say, my eyes round with shock.
“Cinder,” she sighs, her tears running down her cheeks. “Your bleeding tongue will block out the other pain.”
Before I can say anything more, the man by the door brings us the tray. Mama takes it from him and leaves it on the bed. She picks me up, carries me to our tiny bathroom, and sets me down. While she fills the bucket with water, I slip off my tunic, the only clothes Master gives us to wear. Mama and I have seven. I know it’s one for every day of the week. Because we don’t know how to tell time, I don’t know when the day changes. Mama said I should count it when the man brings us the tray. Sometimes I forget so I don’t know what day it is.
I moved to the spot we stand in to bathe so the drain catches the water and it doesn’t run everywhere else. Our room must always be neat, otherwise, Master punishes Mama. He likes everything in place. After Mama plays with me, we clean up like she taught me.
Mama fetches the soap from the tray, pours water over my body with her hands, then slowly washes me. Knowing why she is bathing me, what’s coming after she finishes, I’m suddenly frightened.
“Why does Master call you Sixty?” I ask, trying to be a brave girl.
“It’s my name,” she says, running her soapy hands up my legs. “Everyone is given a number—”
“Everyone?” My little brow pinches.
She stops washing my arms and looks at me. “You’re the last child born in this place, Cinder. All the children before me and your brothers were taken away.”
“I had brothers?” I say, excited.
“Three,” she replies. I can see she wants to cry, so I feel sad too. “Master took them?” Again, she nods. “Am I a number too?”
“Yes, baby. You’re called Sixty Six.”
“But you call me Cinderella?”
