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“Where is she!” I demanded like I had any kind of power.
The Devil’s grip tightened, burning me. A bone popped in my wrist, the cracking sound reverberating through the room, giving a warning to all the other girls who thought of misbehaving.
“For fuck’s sake. I hope that isn’t your wanking hand.” He fumed over the partial refund he’d likely have to give. “Did your month at Vandalla’s not teach you anything?” The Devil squeezed my broken bone, and I winced. My fingers rushed to his, trying to pry his grip off.
I was basically useless.
“Clearly not. Changes will be made. I’m sure all the future little girls and boys will thank you for making their initiation so much harder.”
The back of his free hand whipped my face, leaving behind a red print. I wasn’t shocked. I knew what misbehaving meant for me. And because of that reason, I kept my free hand at my side and held back as many tears as I could as pain spread over my cheek.
He took a step back, releasing the pressure on my wrist and allowing more pain to riffle through my body.
The Devil looked at his minion. Both faces were sweaty with the heat of the crowded room. Crowded with girls, they were auctioning off like old heirlooms. “I will not be giving a discount. You can tell her new master her injuries were caused in shipping if asked, or you can tell him the truth. I don’t care, either way.” The Devil’s eyes fell on me. He smiled, testing how long my hands could twitch at my side before I stopped ignoring the pang of my cheek or the pain in my wrist.
I would not feed his monster by letting it see me lick my wounds.
“Daniel, here will be transporting you to your new master, seeing he has a few days free.” The Devil laughed. “I suggest you don’t give him as much trouble.”
And then he walked off without a care in the world.
***
The road was bumpy. The journey and days, hot and long, and making my mouth dry. Cries seeping through the gaps of someone else’s crate and into mine were the only music I heard.
“Rhylie?” I whispered, wondering if she was in the back of this truck, concealed in a tiny crate like me.
“Is that your name?” a voice questioned back.
A scratching sound came from my left. I could barely move my arms to replicate it. To show the young and scared-sounding woman my position, as she’d shown hers.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s my sister’s name. I’m Cat.”
She didn’t reply, going silent with her words and the gentle scraping of her nails along the wood.
“What’s yours?”
“We won’t be able to keep our names.”
Blood moved coldly through my veins. They were stealing our identities and wiping away our previous lives so we’d truly have nothing to fight for when it felt like the future was a dark and scary place.
I swallowed my fear, refusing to be another statistic.
“It’ll still be yours. Don’t forget it. Don’t ever forget who you are. How strong you are.”
“I don’t feel strong.”
Noise rumbled through the eighteen-wheeler.
The bleeding sun pierced through the gaps in my crate, trying to blind me as it set behind the man standing in the doorway.
Too eager to have a conversation with anyone, I hadn’t realized the engine had stopped and hadn’t paid attention to the background noise interrupting the brief silence between us. I should have—that noise was the creeps up front leaving their seats.
Their presence sealed my mouth shut. I never got to tell my companion that her strength was still there because heavy boots stepped into the cargo space and stomped all over mine.
Another noise filled the air, fumes, too, that would have had me choking, if not protected by the crate, wobbling between two sets of unsteady hands.
