“It’s the truth. I’m not going to sugarcoat shit here. She’d better get used to it fast.”
My stomach flips, and I swig more water. It soothes my raw throat, and I groan at the sensation of it slipping down.
Where am I? What happened?
Panic from the night crawls up my spine, and I choke on my next words. “My father … he … he sold me.” A sob rips from me.
“Oh, hunny. That’s tough luck, right there. Beth was sold, too. I was snatched off the street.”
I jerk back, the words like a slap. Sold. Snatched. Yet, snatched almost sounds more merciful in comparison. At least no one who was supposed to love you handed you over.
“Mercy was one of the few here taken as opposed to sold,” Beth says. She adjusts her black tank top, and it’s then that I realize each girl is wearing the same top and black wide-legged linen pants. I blink, sorting through my thoughts, all of which are an amalgamation of fear, spiraling what-ifs, and what-the-hecks.
When the room stops spinning, I finally wobble to my feet, looking around. My lips part as I take in the long concrete room. What must be upward of fifteen metal twin beds sit lined against the walls, half on one side, half on the other. Two metal doors are at the end, with the only windows in the center of them.
“What is this?” I ask. Without thinking, I gravitate toward the door.
“Don’t bother, hun,” Mercy says. Her piercing green eyes soften as she gestures at the door. “They’re locked.”
Beth speaks up. “We’re in an underground club.”
“A club?”
She nods.
“What kind of club? They can’t take and keep us here!” I stride to the door and slap it three times. It stings instantly. “Hey! Hey! Let us out!” I strike again and again, the impact sending tiny pinpricks through my wrist.
Another girl climbs off her bed and pulls my hand back. “Mercy’s right. It’s no use. They won’t let you out. They never do. I’m Paige, by the way.”
Paige’s hair is braided into two French braids. Her hair is bright red, redder than my copper, but her eyes are a rich amber. She offers me a tight-lipped smile.
I count seven girls, including myself, and I wonder if there are plans for more with of the number of beds.
Beth approaches me with more water in her hand, and I glance past her at a water fountain on the opposite end of the room. There’s also a doorway that another girl walks toward and exits.
“That’s the bathroom,” Beth says, studying where my focus has been pulled. “It’s standard. A few toilets and a couple of basic showers. It’s not fancy, but the day before Market on Fridays, they take us to a nicer spot and … pamper us. If you want to call it that.”
I shake my head. “Market?”
“It’s called EV. We aren’t sure what it stands for. None of us has been privy to that information, but these men are rich. Richer than the men you can concoct in your mind. And each Friday …” Her breath hitches.
“It’s alright, hun.” Mercy rubs her back.
Each Friday what? What?My hands tremble.
“And each Friday they have Market. We’re sold … auctioned to the highest bidder.”
“For what?” I ask.
“For whatever they want.”
I blink, waiting for her to laugh, to take it back.Itcan’t mean what it sounds like. But the look in her eyes says it does—and worse. My pulse spikes.Whatever they want. The phrase sticks to my skin. Sex? Violence? A mix of both? I can’t breathe. I can’t think past the pounding in my head.
“There are rules through,” Paige says. “They have to return us to the club by early the next morning.”
I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. I oscillate between wanting to cry and pounding on the doors until my knuckles bleed. They can’t keep women down here to auction off for whatever they want. Where is the police? How can they have a club like this? Did Phil know this … that this is what they do here? My body shakes as they continue.
“I wonder who got shipped out?” Mercy asks.
