Page 29 of When Sinners Rise
It was humiliating. They didn’t use our names; they assigned us numbers. Naja was Five.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, but I stare at him. He looks agitated and maybe a little drunk, judging by the way he’s using the door to hold himself up.
The drugs still make my limbs feel heavy and jumbled, like they aren’t quite in control of their own movements, and it’s debilitating. If I’m going to fight, I can’t be weak. I’m already at a disadvantage, and I can’t give any more ground, so I need time.
“You’ve already had your fun. Just give me my clothes back, or are you really that disgusting?”
His face contorts at my words, and I see a stubborn line on his lips. It’s a reaction. And a victory. “You don’t get anything without me deciding you do, got that?”
“Oh yeah. You’re the big man in the room. Is that what gets you off? Is that what you need? At least Elias, was that his name? He didn’t need to drug me first.”
“He fucked you.”
“Isn’t that what Cortez men do? They fuck us over?” My voice is bitter and rough with emotion and pain.
He bursts into the room, the door swinging back on the hinges and smashing into the wall as he covers the space between us. He grabs my leg and yanks it, hoisting it up and tipping me back and off balance.
I wrangle and protest, but I feel like a fish on a hook.
“See this?” He looks at the scar on my foot. “This means you’re ours to do with as we like. I say when you have clothes. I say!” He screams the words before releasing my ankle.
His rage is clear, bouncing off him. He spins around and runs his hands through his hair as he paces around the prison. And it gives me a moment.
My eyes flash to the clothes he dumped on the floor as he came in. Going for the door might be the better option, but I need to be smart. Play for time. Get my strength. So I scramble and reach out for the fabric that will at least keep the chill off.
“Hey!” He reaches and grabs me, but I wrestle with him, clutching my clothes as if they are the lifeline I need. In a way, they are. “Stop fighting!”
“Never!”
He lets go, and I clutch my win.
I assume he’ll leave and shut the door, but he doesn’t. He shuts us both in and bars the exit with his body, sliding down the door and sitting on the rotting floor as I am.
Without a thought for how naked I am and pushing the thoughts of what he’s done to my body away, I start to dress in my spoiled clothes. It does the job and serves to form the first part of my mask. The brave mask that Naja once told me to wear to make sure nobody could see through. That’s what I need now – more than back then. I had her then. There’s no one to rely on here but me.
He doesn’t move, just sits staring ahead, like he’s brooding. So I take the time to calm myself and set my mind to work. Naja played Jackson to start with. It was the plan to get us free. Shaw has unfinished business with his brother or something that he’s fighting. Maybe it’s grief, and maybe I’m part of that process. But there’s a difference between Shaw and Elias. Elias was cruel and vicious with us – all the girls – like hewas having fun. Shaw doesn’t look like he’s enjoying this. He’s making a show to me like he’s in charge, but he’s not the same.
At least, that’s what I’m hoping.
They’ve taken everything from me. My freedom, my sister, and now the small shred of trust that I’d managed to build for myself. Shaw’s ripped that from me in a way that’s possibly more damaging than if he’d just taken me from the street and brought me here. He took his time. He enjoyed toying with me, pulling me into his lie, and having fun. And still felt the need to violate me further. Well, screw him.
“Did you kill my sister?” I start off quietly, wanting to draw him in.
“What?” he snaps, looking up at me with a scowl.
“Did you kill my sister? It’s a simple question, Shaw.”
He stares at me like he’s trying to work out if he should tell me the truth. It doesn’t matter right now. I can’t do anything to change the outcome either way, but I do need to focus on me and how I’m going to rescue myself. I don’t have Reed to rely on, not that he was very reliable. But I’d certainly choose him as backup if it were on offer.
Instead, I have Shaw. The man who put me here.
“Just shut the fuck up!” he yells, and I can hear the agitation in his voice.
He stands and starts to pace again, leaving the door unguarded. He’s not happy, and a part of me wants to see the struggle he’s having. I don’t care why he’s not, but I need to exploit his weakness like he’s preyed on mine.
“Tell me!”
“We don’t kill our property, Miri. What fucking dumb thing is that. We sell you. That’s what we do. We take, and we make money from you. That’s all you are! Profit! Fucking cattle!” He’s shouting by the end, and his whole body changes like he’s physically raging from saying the words and ready to lash out.
