Page 3 of Voracious

His smile is evil, but he agrees and steps forward with a threat in his body and tongue.

“You have family, so you know if you hurt mine, I’ll demolish yours.” Nodding my head, he pats my shoulder and holds out a padlock. “No one will come in here. You can sit your sister with my brothers.”

Yelets

Ana

ten years old

Standing straight at the back of the hall, I push my feet down to focus on the pain as Yulia takes in the new girls Marlo is dropping off. Every one of them looks at me with hope but I have to kill it. I press my shoulder into the wall to make the healing brand sting and keep my face blank. If I smile, Yulia will make me give them their lessons instead of watching.

Both are hell, watching someone in so much pain and not being able to do anything is haunting. But if it’s my hand hurting them then it’s worse, it’s my fault then.

It’s been three years since Marlo started his game with me. Whoever my father is doesn’t scare him anymore and he likes taunting me. I know what I’m supposed to do when he taps his cane on the step as he enters the house after the children. I walk forward to go to the lounge, blood is soaking through my socks, but it’s deserved. Every step I take hurts someone and now I have to feel it too, it’s my punishment.

I hate this place, more than the other houses. This is the only one Marlo visits and his cane taps beside his footsteps as he enters the room after me to start his inspection. It always begins with my hair, checking each strand to make sure the color is how he wants. He picks it up off my neck and my skin crawls as though a thousand ants have been let loose from his fingers.

Moving around me, he pushes my head back and checks my eyes. “Those show that you’re worthless, hide them from now on.”

It’s the same thing every time. Tell me how ugly I am, worthless, that my parents were just as useless and that’s why I’m weak. It doesn’t matter how much I fight or what jobs I complete, the speech is always the same.

The door opens behind me, and I watch the fire. More importantly the lack of fire poker heating in it and I know it’s going to be an easy visit. Marlo doesn’t get any reaction out of me, and he sends me away with a flick of his finger as Yulia swaps places with me. She’s disgusting, not just her mind but the fact she touches him out of choice. Both of them are sick.

The other children think I’m lucky because I’m not in the rooms during the visits from the clients. I’m saved from everything but it’s my job to escort the clients in, to mix their drinks and take their orders of which child they like the look of. It’s wrong, everything I’ve ever known is wrong. I don’t know how or why; I just know that children aren’t supposed to be in the same bed as adults. They’re not meant to touch them or be taught to. Maybe that’s why Marlo says I’m wrong because I don’t feel like anything they do is right.

A little girl gets my attention as I walk to my room. She’s the first person to smile at me. I have a sticker with a smiley face that I look at to know what one is but hers is nicer. She’s new, too new because her eyes still shine. Grabbing her arm, I keep my face forward and drag her towards the dorm at the back of the house.She isn’t fighting, I want to tell her to fight. To push me away and smash the ugly vase on the table we pass so she has a weapon and then kill everyone.

Her voice is little, like everything else about her. “I’m Nina, do you know my mama?”

Too much innocence, they’ll enjoy killing it.

The sweeter a child is, the worse the monster who takes them. I tighten my hand around her arm, so she shuts up and don’t answer. If I scare her she might never speak again, then they won’t hear her voice and she’ll be allowed to keep it.

Her little hands push against mine, but she doesn’t even come up to my elbow. Too young. They’re getting younger. Big fat tears roll down her cheeks and she says the phrase they love as she pushes against me.

“Ouch, you’re hurting me.”

The guards look over, excited to see what I’m doing. I hate them, everyone in this house should die. Even the children, they’d thank me for saving them, but my back is still aching from the last time I tried to burn us all and got caught. It’s too soon to do it again, they’ll be watching me now and I’ll have to wait to try again.

All of the guards are watching, some of them are new and the mirrored masks are here. The mirrored masks are the worst, they’re cataloguing who Rowan will want. He likes taking them for training and I don’t want Nina not to smile anymore. My hand comes up and it slices through the air before meeting her small face as I give her the only help she will ever get.

I’m sorry.

“Shut up. Do not talk or cry, they’ll come for you and make it worse.”

I don’t want you to not smile anymore.

Her bottom lips wobbles, big fat tears overflow her eyes and this girl is the perfect one for the sickest clients. The ones wholike the tears, they find it attractive to see children cry and fear fuels their fantasy.

Her eyes go down, chin tucked to her chest, and she stops smiling. My fingers are harsh grabbing her arm again and I drag her with me to put her with the other girls. The ones who have been here longer glare at me as soon as the doors have opened. They don’t see that I’m in a prison too. In their eyes I’m a guard, a teacher like Yulia. But they have each other and I have no one. My room isn’t filled with dolls or toys, it’s plainer than this one that they all share together. Where they have each other to talk to, I have naked bodies printed in magazines and saved on disks that I’m supposed to study. All to learn what the clients want, or I’ll have to go through the 104 days again.

six years later

I’ve been in England for too long. Yulia was supposed to arrange for me to be collected since this is the third client to mysteriously die in a week. It’s such a mystery how he ended up caving his own head in whilst inside a locked room. I laugh to myself, remembering how he screamed as I go through his kitchen pulling out the ingredients to make a sandwich.

Sasha doesn’t look at me. Thirteen years old and in this for too long that she doesn’t realize I’m owed a thank you instead of her being pissed. But I still make her a sandwich, then slide the plate towards her, so she can pick around her anger before I lift myself up and sit on the counter cross-legged. The sandwich is shit, who buys raspberry jam with seeds for fuck’s sake? I’m not a bird that eats seeds. Dumbass.

There are different awards on the mantle, framed press releases and awards dotted on the walls. Do they know he’s a pedophile?

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