Page 10 of Lost & Found

The little girl I wanted desperately to befriend sagged, and no longer moved. Tears blurred my vision. She was gone. My heart was severed in two that night, and anything resembling hope died.

At least she won’t have to suffer any more.

The nightmare increased when he insisted we come in and see her up close. Seeing her lifeless body lying bare through the mirror had been bad enough, but having to come inside the room and look at her poor broken body killed pieces of me I would never get back. With one final kick, he stopped.

“This is what happens to bad little girls who disobey.”

He reached over and pushed my hair back from my face.

“Autumn, I’m proud of you for not answering her.”

“Yes, Sir.” It was all I could muster because he was waiting for a response. I swallowed the bile in my throat.

“X, see to Spring, please. Autumn, you will perform in her place tomorrow and the next day.”

“Yes, Sir,” I offered dutifully. An idea for a painting came to me. I would do it in her honor.

The Mask’s voice jerked me from my stupor, and I realized I was sitting at the dining room table. “Stupid girl,” he called across the way.

Mischa’s head lifted gracefully, as if that were her name. Anger and shame coursed through me. He sneered in her direction.

“Since you’re not eating, you may go to your room and practice for tonight’s performance.”

She nodded and rose quickly. After bowing, she walked away stiffly. How the hell was she going to dance tonight? I wished I could run back to my room and say one single word to her.

But fear kept me firmly in my seat.

An Hour Later

The door creaked open, and the Mask came in smelling faintly of pipe smoke and cloves. He stood there for a moment, waiting for me to bow my head in his presence.

“Autumn,” he said, folding his hands behind his back, waiting for me to acknowledge him. I lifted my gaze. “I’ll be gone for a few days. X and I have some business. We are entertaining some of Winter’s fans.”

I kept my hands folded in front of me. “Yes, Sir.”

“Sonny’s still at Yale, but the Collector will be here. You’ll be on your best behavior.”

“I will, Sir.”

He walked to the wardrobe, opened it, and began sorting through the clothes inside. This was nothing new. He always chose my outfits. Hangers scraped against the metal rod, a screech I envied for its freedom. He paused on a lavender dress and traced a finger down the front. Spring’s favorite color.

Then he set it aside and chose another. This one was peach. It had thin straps and lace along the neckline.

“This one is perfect for you.”

He opened the top drawer, taking out folded undergarments. The sound of fabric brushing against fabric made my throat tighten. He laid everything across the bed.

“Pretty things for a pretty girl.”

I nodded once, my face still. “Thank you, Sir.”

It was required to respond, and the words formed easily enough. My thoughts—on the other hand—screamed silently, ‘go to hell’.

His hand brushed a wrinkle from the dress, and then he turned to me. “You miss Sonny, don’t you?”

Hell no, I didn’t, but that would get me beaten, so I dug deep. “Yes, Sir. I really do.”

“He asks about you every night. Wants to know if you’re being good.”