Number Thirteen
Page 14
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He doesn’t speak as he raises my shirt, and brings the belt over my back twenty times. The pain is intense, and each crack of the belt echoes through the room. I don’t scream; I won’t give them that. I bite my lip so hard blood fills my mouth, and tears run down my face as he nears the end. My back feels like it’s on fire, and the hate I have for William burns in my chest.
I sense he is watching, even though he’s not here.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They leave us down here for twenty-four hours. In that time, the guards come and take Number Twelve. She’s gone for only an hour before she’s returned, looking pink in the cheeks. They immediately take Number Seven after her, and I know they’re taking them to Master William. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but it seems he’s seeking something in us girls. He picked this group for a reason, though I can’t see enough of a similarity between us to know what that reason is.
The only thing we have in common is that we’re gentle. There’s something fragile about all of us.
Though I’m sure Master William has changed his mind about me by now. I don’t understand how he couldn’t have. I’m the only one who speaks out to him, and because of it, I’ve been punished. Remembering the pun Vesnatunderstandishment has the welts on my back aching in response. I’m starving, sore, and tired. They’ve not fed us since we’ve been down here, nor have they given us water. My back is against the wall, and it burns every time I move. I’m on the verge of losing it, but I won’t show that kind of weakness to the other girls.
Four hours later, I give in to that weakness.
My heart breaks as I begin to sob, furious at myself for my lack of strength. My back, it hurts so badly. I can’t keep the tears at bay now, because it’s just become too much. I need relief; I just want to get out of here.
I try to keep my sobbing quiet, but soon it becomes loud and noisy. The others look over at me, but they’re helpless. What can they do? They can’t move to help me, and their words will do nothing. It won’t take the pain away.
I sob for an hour before someone comes in. It’s the head guard, George, I believe. He walks over, followed by four other guards. They each grab one of the girls, with one supervising, and they unshackle them, leading them out. George turns to me, and he leans down, doing the same for me. He leads me out of the room, and my legs work only because I’m forcing them too. I’m exhausted.
I expect George to take me to my room, he doesn’t. He takes me to Master William. I start sobbing even more. “Don’t take me in there,” I cry.
He doesn’t even acknowledge me; it’s as though I haven’t even spoken. He knocks three times on Master William’s door before turning to me and placing a blindfold over my eyes. “JESUS!” I yell out, just before my voice quivers. “Just let me see him.”
He opens the door, and shoves me in so I take two steps. Two hands instantly take my arms. I know that it’s William. I cringe and try to jerk out of his grip, but he’s too strong. He leads me further into the room, and things get darker behind the blindfold. He makes a bit of noise for a second or two, then he is trying to push me, belly first, onto something I can’t see.
“No,” I whimper. “Please.”
He keeps pushing until my weak knees can do nothing but buckle. I feel my body press against what seems to be a table, though there’s a pillow that cushions my face. I turn my head to the side, and tears leak out of my eyes and slide down my cheeks as I feel myself becoming frenzied. William’s hands are at my shirt, and slowly, he raises it. I feel it peeling off my moist, damaged skin, and I cry out in pain.
Is he going to hit me again?
At the thought of that, I suddenly thrash, and try to launch myself off the bed. He presses me down by my shoulders, and murmurs a hushed, “Be still, frumusee.”
I know what that word means now; he’s calling me “beauty.” I drop my head in exhaustion, and my body sinks into the table. I’m completely stripped of any fight. I just can’t bring my weak body to battle him.
His hands are on my skin, and he skims his fingertips over my welting skin. I yelp as it burns beneath his touch. He hushes me again, and I hear him rustling around before his fingers return, only this time they’re covered in a cool balm. The relief is instant, and my entire body shudders. He moves his fingers over me until my skin is cool and completely covered, then he moves my shirt down and lifts me up.
Once again I find myself on his lap, with his arms around me. It’s obviously some sort of trust exercise, but what I don’t know is why he wants me to trust him? It seems important to him. I have so many questions, but I already know he won’t answer them. Master William answers only what he wants to, and even then it& [eve to him. I#8217;s as if he speaks in riddles. Like he wants us to take ourselves around in circles until we become confused and just stop trying.
“What do you want with us?” I try anyway.
He strokes a hand over my arm.
“Please,” I plead. “Give me something.”
“Give only to those who give to you, frumusee.”
Riddles again.
“Is that what you want from me? You want me to give myself to you?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Why do you keep my memories from me?”
“Sometimes memories are best left forgotten,” he murmurs into my hair.
“It’s not your right to take them.”
I sense he is watching, even though he’s not here.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They leave us down here for twenty-four hours. In that time, the guards come and take Number Twelve. She’s gone for only an hour before she’s returned, looking pink in the cheeks. They immediately take Number Seven after her, and I know they’re taking them to Master William. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but it seems he’s seeking something in us girls. He picked this group for a reason, though I can’t see enough of a similarity between us to know what that reason is.
The only thing we have in common is that we’re gentle. There’s something fragile about all of us.
Though I’m sure Master William has changed his mind about me by now. I don’t understand how he couldn’t have. I’m the only one who speaks out to him, and because of it, I’ve been punished. Remembering the pun Vesnatunderstandishment has the welts on my back aching in response. I’m starving, sore, and tired. They’ve not fed us since we’ve been down here, nor have they given us water. My back is against the wall, and it burns every time I move. I’m on the verge of losing it, but I won’t show that kind of weakness to the other girls.
Four hours later, I give in to that weakness.
My heart breaks as I begin to sob, furious at myself for my lack of strength. My back, it hurts so badly. I can’t keep the tears at bay now, because it’s just become too much. I need relief; I just want to get out of here.
I try to keep my sobbing quiet, but soon it becomes loud and noisy. The others look over at me, but they’re helpless. What can they do? They can’t move to help me, and their words will do nothing. It won’t take the pain away.
I sob for an hour before someone comes in. It’s the head guard, George, I believe. He walks over, followed by four other guards. They each grab one of the girls, with one supervising, and they unshackle them, leading them out. George turns to me, and he leans down, doing the same for me. He leads me out of the room, and my legs work only because I’m forcing them too. I’m exhausted.
I expect George to take me to my room, he doesn’t. He takes me to Master William. I start sobbing even more. “Don’t take me in there,” I cry.
He doesn’t even acknowledge me; it’s as though I haven’t even spoken. He knocks three times on Master William’s door before turning to me and placing a blindfold over my eyes. “JESUS!” I yell out, just before my voice quivers. “Just let me see him.”
He opens the door, and shoves me in so I take two steps. Two hands instantly take my arms. I know that it’s William. I cringe and try to jerk out of his grip, but he’s too strong. He leads me further into the room, and things get darker behind the blindfold. He makes a bit of noise for a second or two, then he is trying to push me, belly first, onto something I can’t see.
“No,” I whimper. “Please.”
He keeps pushing until my weak knees can do nothing but buckle. I feel my body press against what seems to be a table, though there’s a pillow that cushions my face. I turn my head to the side, and tears leak out of my eyes and slide down my cheeks as I feel myself becoming frenzied. William’s hands are at my shirt, and slowly, he raises it. I feel it peeling off my moist, damaged skin, and I cry out in pain.
Is he going to hit me again?
At the thought of that, I suddenly thrash, and try to launch myself off the bed. He presses me down by my shoulders, and murmurs a hushed, “Be still, frumusee.”
I know what that word means now; he’s calling me “beauty.” I drop my head in exhaustion, and my body sinks into the table. I’m completely stripped of any fight. I just can’t bring my weak body to battle him.
His hands are on my skin, and he skims his fingertips over my welting skin. I yelp as it burns beneath his touch. He hushes me again, and I hear him rustling around before his fingers return, only this time they’re covered in a cool balm. The relief is instant, and my entire body shudders. He moves his fingers over me until my skin is cool and completely covered, then he moves my shirt down and lifts me up.
Once again I find myself on his lap, with his arms around me. It’s obviously some sort of trust exercise, but what I don’t know is why he wants me to trust him? It seems important to him. I have so many questions, but I already know he won’t answer them. Master William answers only what he wants to, and even then it& [eve to him. I#8217;s as if he speaks in riddles. Like he wants us to take ourselves around in circles until we become confused and just stop trying.
“What do you want with us?” I try anyway.
He strokes a hand over my arm.
“Please,” I plead. “Give me something.”
“Give only to those who give to you, frumusee.”
Riddles again.
“Is that what you want from me? You want me to give myself to you?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Why do you keep my memories from me?”
“Sometimes memories are best left forgotten,” he murmurs into my hair.
“It’s not your right to take them.”
