Page 7 of Lily

The only way she could survive this next stage of her slavery would be to keep hope someone would eventually find her. Someone who cared to rescue her. After seeing all the men who had come and gone from Master J’s house for the past months, she was beginning to think the entire world was upside down. She hadn’t encountered a single person who would care to rescue her. All of them had been disgusting pigs who’d seen her as nothing more than property.

After quickly rinsing, she turned off the water, opened the glass door, and grabbed the towel—another luxury—to dry herself. She headed for the toilet next. Peed, wiped, flushed. She was almost smiling. She was so warped that the tiniest thing made her happy.

After washing her hands and brushing her teeth, she found a comb, worked the tangles out of her hair, and dried it with the hairdryer as Master had instructed.

She knew it was late, and six o’clock would come too soon, so she set the alarm, double-checked it three times, turned out the light, and climbed naked into the bed.

It wasn’t until she was under the covers that she remembered to pull her hands out. She also noticed there was only one small window, and it was up higher than she could see out. That made her room seem more like a prison cell, which was depressing.

It did at least give her some faint light, but it had no curtain. She stared at the closet. Maybe she should have checked to see what the uniform looked like, but she decided to wait until morning.

The collar was heavy on her throat, so she turned to her side, careful to keep her hands out from under the covers. She tucked her palms under her cheek, another luxury. This position was more comfortable. The weight of the heavy electrical box wasn’t pressing on her throat.

Closing her eyes, she immediately slid into the special place she let herself go every night. Yes, she’d been abducted. She knew she was a victim of human trafficking. She knew there was a good chance she would never be freed. It was depressing and disillusioning.

They could take away her autonomy. They could steal her dignity, humiliate her, torture her, force her body into arousal against her wishes. They could order her to clean, spread her legs, and stare at her naked body. She’d been forced to accept injections to prevent pregnancy. She’d been held down while strangers had waxed her. She’d had a tattoo put on her inner thigh—one of the scariest days of her life.

But they could not take her mind, especially when she closed her eyes alone at night. She let herself think of Marco. It was all she had. His voice. His smile. His attentiveness. It didn’t matter that he probably had only seen her as a stupid young girl. He’d been kind to her, and she’d fallen in love with him.

Love? Did she even know what love was? Probably not. She had a girl’s crush on him. Didn’t matter. No one could take it away. She had a fount of memories to draw upon…

“Whatcha reading, Rose?”

Roselia lifted her gaze, relieved to find Marco smiling down at her. He pointed at the book in her hands.

Embarrassed, her cheeks heated as she looked down at the book.

He gently took it from her hands, not losing her page. “A History of the American Revolution.” He grinned as he handed it back, his fingers grazing hers. “Heavy reading.”

She shrugged. He must have thought she was a complete dork.

“You’re a sponge when it comes to learning, aren’t you, Rose?”

She lifted her shoulders again. Why did she always get tongue-tied around him? Suddenly, she worried he might think she wasn’t doing her job. She was in the stairwell at the back of the estate. He must have thought she was hiding.

She rose to her feet, clasped the book behind her, and stood tall. “I’m on a break.”

He frowned for a moment, and then his face softened. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything, Rose. I’m not in charge of your work schedule, sweetheart.”

She sucked in a breath when he called her sweetheart. He’d never used an endearment for her before. She liked it. She didn’t even care that he most likely saw her as a silly girl. It meant something to her.

“I’m a bit of a history buff myself. I could bring you some of my favorite books if you’d like to borrow them.”

She licked her lips. “That’s very kind of you. I’d like that.” She lifted the one she held to show him the spine. “I checked this out from the library.” Buying books was certainly not in her budget.

His brow furrowed. “How are you doing? I know it’s been hard without your mom. You two were close.”

She nodded, trying not to cry. The last thing she needed to do was cry in front of him. “I’m okay,” she murmured. It had been a few months since she’d lost her mother so suddenly. Mostly, she was lonely, especially at night, alone in the apartment she could barely afford.

“I didn’t see your car parked behind the estate this morning. I thought maybe you weren’t here today. I was worried.”

He was worried?

She lowered her gaze. “It wouldn’t start. I got a taxi this morning.”

He lifted his fingers to her chin and tipped her head back. His brow was furrowed even further. “Let me drive you home when you get off. I’ll take a look at it.”

She stared into his eyes. Was he serious? “I…” She didn’t know what to say. Anything she said would be a lie. She couldn’t have it towed. She didn’t have the money for that. The truth was she needed to accept his offer of help. She was stuck. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

---