Page 3 of Maxim

Her eyes move from me to Szymon. “You can step out. It won’t take us long.”

“I’m staying,” he tells her.

I watch as she rolls her shoulders back, and her hands move to her hips. “Sir, I have to insist that you step out. It’s company policy to only have two people in the room together.”

His eyes narrow. “I stay.”

“It’s fine,” I cut in.

Holly looks over at me and frowns. It’s obvious that we are both uncomfortable with him being in the room, but there is no use in fighting it. If he says he stays, then he stays. Szymon is one of my father’s soldiers who takes his orders seriously and never wavers.

“Well then, I’ll have to insist you stay up by her head while I wax her lower half,” Holly says.

Szymon nods and moves to stand between the table and the wall at my head.

“Lay back, please, you can keep your robe closed for now,” Holly tells me as she starts pulling wax sticks out of a new package.

When she places the hot wax on my leg for the first time, I fight the urge to flinch. Not because it’s too warm, but because I’m not used to others touching me. While Holly waxes from my ankles up, I disassociate. I tune out everyone and pretend like I’m somewhere else.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been waxed, but it is the first time with an audience. When young girls’ bodies start developing, most are given a razor to take care of the hair our bodies start sprouting, but that was never an option for me. It was waxing or nothing, which never made sense to me.

Why do I have to wax every inch of my body when no one sees my body? Father treats me like one of those nesting dolls. I’m only allowed to be looked at and never touched. So why the extra care when it comes to body hair? I know it’s not for my benefit.

Then again, who knows what I would have done if I was ever given a razor blade from the start. I’m not saying I would have hurt myself, but you never know what you are capable of until pushed. I’ll never admit it out loud, but I’ve contemplated killing my father any time he threatens the children or makes them cry. He can direct all his anger at me, but I never want him to turn it onto the kids. Their innocent little souls don’t deserve the hatred he spews.

“All done. You can cover yourself back up. I’ll meet you out front to schedule your next appointment,” Holly says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“No need. We scheduled it already when we came in,” Szymon says.

Holly nods before stepping out of the room.

I fight the urge to shiver as I slip the robe back on over my shoulders. I look over at the clock and see almost an hour has gone by.

“I can feel you staring. You know you shouldn’t be looking,” I remind Szymon.

“Watch your mouth, pretty little doll. Your father gave me complete control when we are out, so I can do as I please,” he says darkly.

Disgust blankets me as I bite my tongue. I hate it when he calls me a pretty little doll, and he knows it. His threat doesn’t go unnoticed, but it’s not worth fighting over.

The only thing saving me from him taking advantage of me is the fact that Father would lose his mind if my innocence was stripped before he gave his approval.

I get off the bed and walk over to the counter and start slipping on my clothes. I keep the robe on as long as possible, preventing him from seeing any more of me for today.

Once my shoes are on, I turn around and face him. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.”

Szymon’s eyes scan me from head to toe. “You’ll look beautiful tonight, pretty little doll.”

I smile weakly but don’t respond to his comment. The last thing I want to think about is tonight and what’s in store for me next.

Then again, it’s just going to be another night of being stared at, and in the grand scheme of things, that’s not too bad. It could be worse, right?

I look both ways before stepping into the road, crossing the quiet street. The entire block looks as if it’s about to be bulldozed down to get rid of the condemned buildings. I don’t know how the organizers do it, but they manage to find the most run-down areas and then renovate the inside of one of the buildings and set up shop.

I scan the street one more time before reaching forward and pulling the door open. The hinges screech so loud it sounds like a gunshot going off, making my eye twitch.

Jesus Christ, couldn’t they have greased the hinges at least?

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