Page 11 of A Twisted Gift

Doing my calves is much messier than my underarms, with water and cream dripping onto the counter. When she does my thighs, I have to part my legs, and I find myself blushing at the exposure.

Amelia doesn’t seem to care. In fact, once she’s finished with my thighs, she places the wash cloth between my legs. I yelp, trying to squirm back but slipping on the counter.

“Stop,” Amelia says, and I’m surprised by the gentleness in her voice. “Just lean back and let me. I have to do this.”

Closing my eyes in shame, I do as she says. I can’t see her, but I feel her repeating the same process she did to my legs. She gets everywhere, even around my asshole.

“Am I not supposed to have hair there?” I ask, voice wobbling.

“You are, hon. It’s just that not everyone likes it.”

Once she’s finished, I breathe a sigh of relief. She turns on the shower for me, and I wash everything from my head to my toes, wondering if I can find a way to escape.

Father told me there are wild bears and wolves prowling around that would gobble me up in an instant, but now I wonder if it was a lie. A way to keep me mentally chained here so he wouldn’t have to have someone watching me every second of every day.

Either way, I think it’s best to wait until after the auction. If I’m being taken away, maybe it’ll be to an area that’s more populated. Father warned me about murderers, too—and thieves. He said the streets are full of people who’d take advantage of a girl like me without a second thought. Maybe I could disguise myself as a man. I read about a girl doing that in a book once.

“I’ll figure it out,” I whisper to myself as water runs down my body, washing the suds away.

I finish up in the shower and dry off slowly, as if I can delay my fate. Even if it’s only by a few minutes, I’ll take it.

What if I end up with a man who wants to hurt me, and I can’t find a way to escape? What will I do?

Amelia left a new lotion on the counter for me, and I rub it into my skin. It smells like Christmas spices, and it makes my heart ache when I realize I won’t be here on Christmas day. Watching everyone open presents, giggling over hot chocolate with my sister, cuddling up with her to watch a holiday movie…

Will I even be able to see Marissa again?

“Raina?” There’s a knock on the bathroom door. “Are you done?”

I step into the bedroom with my towel re-wrapped around me. “Do bears eat people?”

She gives me a surprised look, probably wondering whythat’swhat I want to know right now. “Sometimes, but not as often as people would have you think. Wild animals tend to be more scared of you than you are of them. Still a good idea to avoid them, though. Never know when one is rabid or something.”

Rabid.I haven’t heard that word since one of the maids found a sick raccoon out by the trash cans when I was younger.

“Come here,” she tells me. “We’re running out of time.”

I do as she says, slipping into the robe she holds out for me. While she blow dries and curls my hair, I sit silently. The only thing holding me together is the hope that I might be able to escape. Once I do, I’ll find a way to get in contact with Marissa. She said she’d help me. Maybe I can secretly live with her.

Maybe she can help me find Erik.

Once Amelia has finished my hair, she applies makeup to my face. I’ve never worn any, and my eyelashes feel heavy from the mascara. When I look in the mirror, though, I gasp. I look so much prettier than usual.

“I kept it natural,” she says. “Just enough to accentuate your features. Now it’s time for your dress, and then we’ll have to get you downstairs.”

She retrieves the garment bag, pulling out a rosy pink dress made from soft, shiny fabric. It looks incredibly short, like it’ll barely cover me.

“Is part of it missing?” I ask.

“No, hon. It’s meant to show off as much of you as possible without getting in the way of these men’s stupid egos. Put it on.”

I’m reluctant to step out from the modesty of my robe. There’s something about Amelia that makes me feel things I know I shouldn’t. To my relief, she must notice my hesitation because she turns around with an exasperated sigh, laying the dress on the bed. Quickly, I snatch it up and slip it over my head.

My fears were true. The dress hugs my body, hinting at my breasts and giving a tease of my upper thighs. It feels like I’m wearing nothing at all.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

“You don’t have a choice.”

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