Page 18 of Envy

When they’re old enough, they’re placed in a room to be drugged and raped. When they’re selected to be so-called adopted by a rich family, documents appear, and the child thinks this family is their savior. The father a hero, the mother a saint. But none of it is real. There is no hero. There is no saint. It’s just one sick man from hell with a twisted appetite. Then they take you wherever they came from. As for me, they brought me to the states.

“No, I don’t.”

She asks me how much money I have while I’m on campus and whether my meals are covered. I find her questions a bit odd, but I answer them as best I can. She inquiries about my last physical. I’ve never had a formal one, so I tell her I don't remember.

She then sends me to the next room to get one and to see a gynecologist for birth control. I should fight her on this but in my case, it isn't a bad thing. I would like to be checked anyway.

A woman with dark brown hair walks in and say her name is Dr. Mullen. I mention that I have an IUD, but says, she will check anyway. Maybe it's because I’m Prey, and this has nothing to do with John but rather the order. Perhaps they require all females to be on some type of contraceptive. I imagine the last thing they want is a bunch of poor kids with rich babies in their stomachs, messing up their bloodlines.

John told me he had one placed when I was unconscious so I wouldn’t get pregnant. I felt relieved. I overheard some girls had their reproductive organs removed.

I’m on the examining table; the woman’s head is positioned between my legs, with my heels resting on two metal supports at the end of the table. I feel a tug between my legs. I tilt my head to the side, and watch her as she removes her gloves, but catch a glimpse of bloody fluid on the tips.

“Is there something wrong?” I ask in alarm. Maybe John or someone ruined my insides, or I have some type of disease.

“Everything is fine. The bloody discharge is normal. Your IUD is intact. If you want to regulate your period, it’s best to start taking your birth control at the beginning of your cycle.”

I want to tell her my cycle is fine, but I’m eager to leave. I’m uncomfortable and want to take a shower. I never expected this visit and don’t know who to believe.

I grab my pills from the lady at the front and head toward my dorm building. My stomach drops when my phone goes off. I stare at the screen in horror.

John: Get in the car outside your dorm building.

I look up at the loading zone in front of the building and see a blacked-out Escalade idling.

The SUV drops me off in front of the massive entrance of John and Mary’s home. I stare at the dark brown double doors like it’s a prison and I’m to be sent to the electric chair. I’m not sure why he wants me here during the week. He said weekends, but he skipped last weekend, so maybe he wants to make up for lost time.

The door opens.

The woman who cleans the house doesn’t look me in the eyes. She must think I’m disgusting for the things John does and says when she’s hovering around. She must think I like it because I don’t protest when deep inside, I’m screaming to die.

“Hello, Georgina,” I greet, like I do every time.

She turns around, dismissing me like she always does, but I don’t care. I hoped maybe one day she would have mercy on me, but I know she won’t.

The faint smell of food and coffee makes my stomach churn. My appetite is gone. It’s a familiar feeling I’ve grown accustomed to when I’m in this house. Who would feel hungry when they’re a sex slave?

My hands tremble around the torn strap of my bookbag. The deeper I follow her down the long hallway, the louder the voices.

She turns into the dining room with the massive table for fifteen. The cream marble floors with blood-red veins. The grotesque red curtains Mary insisted on draping over the oversized windows.

I hate this house.

I hate the people and the furniture.

“There she is,” John says when Georgina moves to the side.

“You didn’t tell me, Mother, that my sister was so petite and small,” a voice that could only belong to Garret says warmly.

My throat goes dry remembering the taste of his breath. The look on his face when he came. This is a joke. I’ve never seen Garret set foot in this house. We both know he doesn’t see me as a sister.

“Sit,” Mary says, coldly watching me like I’m a fly she wants to squash. “I wouldn’t call her your sister.”

“Well, step-sibling,” Garret says with a smile, but I can tell he doesn’t find it amusing.

He’s wearing a fitted blue sweater that outlines the muscles of his pecs, doing nothing to hide the mural of tattoos on his neck reaching his jawline. I sit across from Garret, next to John, but he isn’t having it.

“Why don’t you sit next to me so we can get to know each other better?” Garret’s gaze slides to John. I can feel the tension radiate between them. John’s eyes turn cold, like he wantsnothing more than to reach across the massive table and rip his throat out, but Garret doesn’t seem fazed. He continues to watch John closely, daring him to object.

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