And now I’m on display.
A woman called Diamond explained everything. Men will come. Men will come and look me over, as if I’m a side of beef hanging in the butcher shop. If one of them likes what he sees, he can take me for the evening. Do what he wants with me. Anything. Except he can’t kill me.
I have to force myself to become numb to the concept.
“They won’t put you out in the hunting grounds right away,” Diamond said this morning. “They start you out slowly, so you get used to what will happen.”
“How does anyone get used to this?” I demanded. “We’re people, Diamond. People, not animals. I wouldn’t treat an animal this way.”
“You wouldn’t,” she said, “but there are those who do. Not all animals are hunted for food. Some for sport.”
“It’s wrong,” I said, “and it’s doubly wrong to do it to people.”
She didn’t respond, but her eyes did.
She agreed. She didn’t like what went on here.
Why didn’t she do something to stop it?
I sit here now, wearing nothing but a tropical print halter top and a sarong around my waist. Onyx sits next to me. I don’t know her actual name. We’re forbidden to use our old names here.
“It’ll be okay,” she says to me through trembling lips.
It’s Onyx’s first evening too.
I fear for her. I want to fight for her, but then I selfishly hope she gets chosen and I don’t.
She’s beautiful. Much more beautiful than I am, with her long dark hair and gorgeous nearly black eyes.
I’m not beautiful enough to be here.
So why was I brought here?
Every woman here, including Diamond herself, is supermodel stock.
And I—
The door opens, and—I count quickly—ten gentlemen—not gentlemen, actually—stride in. Their lascivious gazes rake over us, fifteen total, and some women I’ve never seen until tonight.
We’re told not to make eye contact with the men. No problem there. I don’t want to look at any of them, and I certainly don’t want to…
Nausea spikes in my throat. How can I do this?
But Diamond warned us. If we can’t do it on our own, we’ll be given drugs.
I don’t want drugs.
So I’ll do this.
What other choice do I have?
A large hand closes over mine.
I don’t look up. It doesn’t matter who he is or what he looks like. I don’t look at him unless I’m told to.
“What’s your name?” His voice isn’t overly low but it is commanding.
I still don’t look up. “Moonstone,” I say softly, my voice cracking slightly.
He clears his throat. “I’ll take you. Come with me.”
6
Luke
She stands next to the men’s room, her eyes closed, her palms flattened against the wall, as if she needs its support to keep from crumpling to the floor.
“Katelyn?”
She flinches but doesn’t open her eyes.
I want to reach out to her, to touch her, but if I do, she may flinch even more, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to do anything to harm this woman—or any woman. Not ever again.
“Katelyn?” I say again.
One eye opens this time and then the other.
“Is Mrs. Wolfe okay?”
The blare of the sirens in the distance drifts through to us. They’re coming closer.
I turn toward the sound. “It won’t be long now. We should go tell Mrs. Wolfe.”
Katelyn doesn’t respond, nor does she move.
“I’ll do it.”
I turn toward the door to the staff lounge when Lois comes rushing toward us. “They’re almost here. We’ll need to stay out of their way.”
“Yeah, of course.” I turn back to Katelyn. “We need to move. The paramedics are coming.”
She nods then, and when I tentatively take her hand, she doesn’t resist. I’m not sure where I’m going to take her. The staff lounge is off limits. The paramedics will head straight for that room. Back to her table? No. She needs quiet. Peace.
I don’t know how I know this, but I do.
Her hand is freezing cold, but still a spark shoots through me at the contact.
Outside?
Not really an option either. The paramedics will be blocking everything and we’ll have to walk somewhere to get away from them. I don’t want Katelyn to have to walk any more than necessary until she comes out of this funk.
Through the kitchen, then. The paramedics won’t go there, and there’s a doorway to the back alley, where we get deliveries.
“Come on.”
To my surprise, she doesn’t resist. She follows behind me, her hand still in mine, as we stride through the kitchen.
“Everything okay?” the pastry chef asks me.
“Yeah, Trina. This young woman just needs some air, and the ambulance is arriving for Mrs. Wolfe.”
Trina nods, and no one else questions me as we walk through the clattering sounds of the kitchen and through the door to the delivery entrance.
A stray yellow cat whisks by, and Katelyn gasps.
“It’s just a cat, honey. Just a cat. What can I do for you?”