Page 54 of The Road to Ruined

Shit. Here we go.

"I have a call I have to take. Bring those two downstairs, then take the one with the busted face to my room." He looks me in my eyes, waiting for a reaction. When he doesn't get one, he asks. "Do you speak English?"

I don't answer.

"¿Hablas español? Well?"

I lift my cuffed hands, point to my ears, and shake my head.

"Oh," Cake Girl says. "I think she's deaf."

"Fucking worthless," he scoffs. "Fuck Dale. I can't fucking wait to be done with his ass."

Now?Do I do it now? I could take her out easily, but he's behind that desk and in decent shape. If he sees me coming, he'll probably be able to get the best of me, and Bone Saw says that's my superpower…that he won't see me coming.

I dig my nails into my palms, willing my hands to stop shaking and my pulse to slow.

Cake Girl walks around the side of the desk, opens one of the drawers, and pulls out a gun. "I'm sure we can still get her to follow directions," she says.

She points the gun toward the three of us and motions toward the door. "Move."

Shit. I guess it's a good thing I didn't pick now.

I follow the other girls out the door and then to an elevator that takes us to the basement. Cake Girl stops and knocks on a door near the end of the hall.

"Just these two," she says, ushering the other two girls into the room. "I'll bring this one down later. He'll probably want to move them tomorrow."

The other man says nothing, closing the door behind the two girls, and I'm escorted back to the elevator. Once it starts to rise, she tucks the gun back into the waistband of her shorts.

"You're lucid," she says. "But you don't really seem afraid. How much of this do you understand? Can you read lips?"

I don't respond or react.

"You're older than he usually likes," she says, stepping onto the second floor and gesturing for me to follow. "You're the prettiest I've seen in a while, though, even with your busted face."

She stops in front of a bedroom, ushering me inside with her hand on the small of my back. I linger near the doorway, and she turns, gesturing before extending her hand to me.

"Come," she says. "Let me help you with your nose."

Still cuffed, I take her hand, and she pulls me into the attached bathroom, closing the door behind her. I gasp when I catch my reflection in the mirror.

Both of my eyes are black, my cheek bruised. Dried blood runs from my nose down my chin and is smeared over my cheek.

"Oh…you haven't seen it?" Cake Girl asks. "I bet that would be shocking."

She runs water over a wet rag and then brings it to my face, wiping it clean. I wince when she runs it over my nose.

"Sorry," she says. "I'm sorry for what's going to happen to you, too. Not sorry enough to help you, though. Warren isn't that bad, though. His dick is small—like microscopically small—and it never gets all the way hard, so at least it won't hurt. I'm tooold for him, too, you know. My dad sold me to him when I was fifteen. He's left me alone for two years."

She sets the rag aside and fingers the orbital piercing on my left ear. "You were cared for," she says, her brow furrowing. "Where did they find you?"

I jerk my head away, worried she'll move from my ear over to my braid. She still has the gun, but I only need a couple of seconds. I need a little more room to maneuver than this, though. There's maybe six inches of space between her body and mine.

"That'll make it harder for you," she says. "If you were cared for, then you probably know what it's like to be touched in a loving way. See, I didn't—I was raised knowing I would be sold like this and that it would be my duty." She runs her finger down the side of my face. "You're so pretty. I bet you've been held before. I bet you've been special to someone, and they made you laugh. They told you they loved you or wrote you letters, called you things like honey or sweetheart or angel."

Angel.

Something in her eyes changes; she must see the longing in mine, and she smiles. "Youdoknow what I'm saying. Is that what they called you? Did they call you an angel?"

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