Page 37 of Ruining Vanessa

I open the little bottle of orange juice and down the pill, opening my mouth to show her that I’ve swallowed it.

She nods again, looking more than a little relieved, and unlocks the chain around my ankle.

I pat the spot next to me on the bed. “Come on. You can share with me,” I invite her. I know the women here don’t get things like fresh fruit, and their meals usually taste like cardboard.

Stef sits down next to me and doesn’t hesitate to take some food. As she reaches for the fruit, though, I notice the dark bruising on the inside of her elbow.

I almost ask who hurt her, until I see the small, red pinpricks.

More drugs.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I know saying something won’t make a difference. Even if Stef wanted to quit, there’s no way Donny and Paul would let her. After all, the drugs are how they keep everybody compliant.

It still makes me angry to see it.

“Were you on the floor last night?” I ask, just to break the silence.

Stef nods. “Yeah. I gave three private dances. And only teared up for one of them.” She laughs darkly. “Guess I really am getting used to things around here.”

My heart aches for her, and I regret asking her. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. I poke at the food, but my appetite has been all but destroyed.

Hers, on the other hand, seems well intact, and she eats like she expects me to take it away from her.

I nudge the tray a little closer to her and get up, grabbing my jeans. I pull them on, then make sure the overly large shirt I’m wearing is all buttoned up.

“I take it I’m on toilet cleaning duty again,” I say, and while my voice sounds disgusted, my heart pounds in my chest with hope. It’s the easiest to take out and restock on sponges when I’m cleaning the toilets. As disgusting as the bathrooms in here get—it’s like the men try to avoid the urinals and aim for the walls instead—it still offers me the chance I need.

“Yeah,” Stef says, wincing. “Sorry. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Thankfully, she and the other women have mostly started leaving me alone while I’m cleaning. It’s like they can read my resignation to my situation. Unlike Damien, who seems to think I still have it in me to run, they know better.

They’re in the same shoes as me, after all.

The two of us make our way downstairs. Stef heads straight to the kitchen, while I detour to the supply closet. I need gloves, a mop, and a bucket to clean the bathroom. And, while I’m there…

I look around to make sure I’m alone, then I grab more of the contraceptive sponges from the first aid box. I notice with dismay that even the supply in here is getting low again. I stuff all but one of the sponges into my jeans pockets.

Donny had said to mark things that needed to be restocked, though, so I make a note on the supply sheet taped to the inside of the door. Not even a full note—just a little checkbox in the “order more” column.

There. Just a few days, and somebody will buy more.

I hurry to the bathroom and get to work mopping the floor. When that’s as clean as I’ll likely get it, I scrub my hands and arms clean.

I slip into one of the stalls and get to work removing and replacing the sponge currently inside me. I wish I could just flush it, but I don’t want to cause a plumbing issue, so the best I can do is wrap it up in toilet paper. I get out of the stall to throw the sponge away in the large bin outside. Men’s restrooms, unfortunately, don’t include little private disposal bins.

I should have paid more attention, though.

“What are you doing?”

I startle at the sound, clutching the used contraceptive sponge tightly in an attempt to hide it. “Um. Hi! Elena!”

Elena’s expression is always hard to read, but I notice how her gaze travels to my hand, and the way one corner of her lips curls down. The other side has been marred by scarring.

“What’s that?” she asks quietly.

I let out a nervous laugh. My heart races, and no matter how much I try to control my breathing, it comes in shallow waves. “Just some trash. Let me get rid of it. What can I help you with? I’m almost done in here.” I move toward the big trash can and quickly dispose of the sponge.

“I came to see you,” Elena says, watching me intently as I pick up the cleaning rag.

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