Number Thirteen
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
NUMBER THRITEEN
“Wake up, girls.”
I hear Bill’s voice, and I groan, shifting in my bed. It takes me a moment to adjust to my surroundings, and I remember that today is going to be a crazy, full-on day because Master William is having a dinner party. I sit up slowly, and while my back still feels stiff and sore in the mornings, it feels much better. My mind is quite hazy, and I’m struggling to figure out why. It feels like there are memories hanging right on the edge, needing to get out, like there’s something I should be remembering.
“Eat, get dressed, and then line up outside the door. We have a big day,” Bill says, then turns and walks out of the room.
I slowly rise, rubbing my forehead as I do. I stare at the other girls, all ruffled from sleep, running their hands over their faces. I feel strange this morning, and I can’t quite figure out why. Maybe I just had a restless sleep. I try to remember if I did, but it seems hazy. I get flickers of the evening before. I recall not drinking my milk, and...my body freezes. They took us somewhere. I remember being taken somewhere.
I get out of bed and rush into the shower, shutting the door quickly. I put my head in my hands. Think! I try to figure out what happened, but the images only come through as hazy patches. I remember a woman, pretty. She spoke to me. She asked me questions, questions I don’t really remember. Then everything went dark. I don’t know why I was there. Why did they take us? I angrily rub my head, sick of not being able to remember what’s stored in my own brain. These memories are mine, and so help me God, I’ll fight to get them back.
The one thing I have pulled from all this is that the milk isn’t something I should drink. So from now on, I will make sure I don’t drink it. I’ll also be writing anything I remember down on the small notepad that’s in the drawer of my bedside table. I need to figure this out. I’m missing something here, something big. I need my memories back; I need to know who I am. Feeling my chest swell with determination, I s smine there trip off and get into the shower.
They won’t beat me.
It’s the first time since we’ve been here that we’re all in a room together again. I stare at the other girls, and they so obediently stand, facing the front wall. Why are they like that? So weak? Following his every command. They’re not even trying to fight; they’re not even trying to get out of here. Why? Why would they just give in and let this happen? Maybe they’ve been beaten, too; maybe they’re scared. I don’t know, but I do know I can’t ever let myself look so...so...resolved.
Bill begins speaking in a loud, authoritative tone. I slowly turn my attention to him.
“There is a lot to be completed today, the house needs to be cleaned.”
It is.
“The washing needs to be done, there’s to be none laying around.”
There’s none.
“The dining room needs to be set.”
Obviously.
“And dinner needs to be cooked.”
No shit.
I shake my head, unsure why my inner thoughts are so...blunt. I feel like a part of me is being taken away, and I’m the only one fighting to get it back. The guard walks over, and divides us up. For the first time we’re separated into different groups. I’m put with Number Two, the Latin American girl, who is really, really pretty. The others with me are Number Eight, who is the tall, athletic girl that seems friendly enough, and Number Eleven, the big, butch girl who kind of scares me. We’re assigned kitchen duties, so I guess my day is being spent cooking. There are worse things.
As soon as we’re grouped off, we get to work. We immediately go to the kitchen and stare down at the menu that has been done up for the night. We’ve been given a copy to work with, and it’s on a shiny, silver piece of paper that is decorated with swirls and tiny little diamond-like beads. There’s a long, white feather attached to the corner of it, and it flutters about when it moves. I stare down at it, and I know just how much we have to do today. We probably need to do one thing each, or we’ll be here running around in circles all day.
“Okay, I think we should group off and do one thing each,” I say, taking charge like I usually would with my group.
Number Eleven, the big, butch girl steps forward, and glares at me. “Who died and made you boss?”
“I...excuse me?” I stammer. “I’m just trying to organize this so we don’t—”
She cuts me off, stepping closer. “So you don’t get sent back for punishment? We’ve heard all about you, and we’re not letting you take charge of anything. We heard what you put your group through. Don’t you know they all have to go to some sort of therapy at night because they’re so fucked up? You’re the fucked-up group. They picked you for a reason. You’re the idiot who tried to escape instead of doing the right thing. You’re the master’s little pet, because you’re so damned simple. I hear he likes simple.”
My heart seizes. I don’t know what she’s talking about. Why would she be so cruel to me? She doesn’t even know me. My breathing becomes labored as I straighten my shoulders. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I don’t know you, and you certainly don’t know me.”
She chuckles. sSheat y “But I do know you. We all know you. We have all been told about the ‘special’ group.”
Special group?
“Why are you being so cruel?” I whisper, glaring at her.
NUMBER THRITEEN
“Wake up, girls.”
I hear Bill’s voice, and I groan, shifting in my bed. It takes me a moment to adjust to my surroundings, and I remember that today is going to be a crazy, full-on day because Master William is having a dinner party. I sit up slowly, and while my back still feels stiff and sore in the mornings, it feels much better. My mind is quite hazy, and I’m struggling to figure out why. It feels like there are memories hanging right on the edge, needing to get out, like there’s something I should be remembering.
“Eat, get dressed, and then line up outside the door. We have a big day,” Bill says, then turns and walks out of the room.
I slowly rise, rubbing my forehead as I do. I stare at the other girls, all ruffled from sleep, running their hands over their faces. I feel strange this morning, and I can’t quite figure out why. Maybe I just had a restless sleep. I try to remember if I did, but it seems hazy. I get flickers of the evening before. I recall not drinking my milk, and...my body freezes. They took us somewhere. I remember being taken somewhere.
I get out of bed and rush into the shower, shutting the door quickly. I put my head in my hands. Think! I try to figure out what happened, but the images only come through as hazy patches. I remember a woman, pretty. She spoke to me. She asked me questions, questions I don’t really remember. Then everything went dark. I don’t know why I was there. Why did they take us? I angrily rub my head, sick of not being able to remember what’s stored in my own brain. These memories are mine, and so help me God, I’ll fight to get them back.
The one thing I have pulled from all this is that the milk isn’t something I should drink. So from now on, I will make sure I don’t drink it. I’ll also be writing anything I remember down on the small notepad that’s in the drawer of my bedside table. I need to figure this out. I’m missing something here, something big. I need my memories back; I need to know who I am. Feeling my chest swell with determination, I s smine there trip off and get into the shower.
They won’t beat me.
It’s the first time since we’ve been here that we’re all in a room together again. I stare at the other girls, and they so obediently stand, facing the front wall. Why are they like that? So weak? Following his every command. They’re not even trying to fight; they’re not even trying to get out of here. Why? Why would they just give in and let this happen? Maybe they’ve been beaten, too; maybe they’re scared. I don’t know, but I do know I can’t ever let myself look so...so...resolved.
Bill begins speaking in a loud, authoritative tone. I slowly turn my attention to him.
“There is a lot to be completed today, the house needs to be cleaned.”
It is.
“The washing needs to be done, there’s to be none laying around.”
There’s none.
“The dining room needs to be set.”
Obviously.
“And dinner needs to be cooked.”
No shit.
I shake my head, unsure why my inner thoughts are so...blunt. I feel like a part of me is being taken away, and I’m the only one fighting to get it back. The guard walks over, and divides us up. For the first time we’re separated into different groups. I’m put with Number Two, the Latin American girl, who is really, really pretty. The others with me are Number Eight, who is the tall, athletic girl that seems friendly enough, and Number Eleven, the big, butch girl who kind of scares me. We’re assigned kitchen duties, so I guess my day is being spent cooking. There are worse things.
As soon as we’re grouped off, we get to work. We immediately go to the kitchen and stare down at the menu that has been done up for the night. We’ve been given a copy to work with, and it’s on a shiny, silver piece of paper that is decorated with swirls and tiny little diamond-like beads. There’s a long, white feather attached to the corner of it, and it flutters about when it moves. I stare down at it, and I know just how much we have to do today. We probably need to do one thing each, or we’ll be here running around in circles all day.
“Okay, I think we should group off and do one thing each,” I say, taking charge like I usually would with my group.
Number Eleven, the big, butch girl steps forward, and glares at me. “Who died and made you boss?”
“I...excuse me?” I stammer. “I’m just trying to organize this so we don’t—”
She cuts me off, stepping closer. “So you don’t get sent back for punishment? We’ve heard all about you, and we’re not letting you take charge of anything. We heard what you put your group through. Don’t you know they all have to go to some sort of therapy at night because they’re so fucked up? You’re the fucked-up group. They picked you for a reason. You’re the idiot who tried to escape instead of doing the right thing. You’re the master’s little pet, because you’re so damned simple. I hear he likes simple.”
My heart seizes. I don’t know what she’s talking about. Why would she be so cruel to me? She doesn’t even know me. My breathing becomes labored as I straighten my shoulders. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I don’t know you, and you certainly don’t know me.”
She chuckles. sSheat y “But I do know you. We all know you. We have all been told about the ‘special’ group.”
Special group?
“Why are you being so cruel?” I whisper, glaring at her.
