Page 66 of Hysteria Rises
Lost in my thoughts,I scrub at a messy pot, all the while my mind works through what I observed outside. That’d been the most bizarre excuse for a family get-togetherever. The intricacies of the relationships, I clearly don’t have a handle on yet. And fuck, I hadn’t been prepared to get manhandled as part of the night’s entertainment. My mind feels a bit like the ball inside a pinball machine. It keeps pinging back and forth, first one way, then the other, then smacked with the paddle and shot for a loop de loop.
At first it seemed like the evening would be easy enough. I’d been expecting something entirely different, based on the warning from Arrow and Hayze in the early hours of the morning. But then, things started to go sideways. Groping hands, laughter, and then a choke hold from an angry-faced Hayze. But I’m positive the assholish behavior was part of an act. Hiswhispered words ring inside my head.Remember what we told you.
A sharp jab to my arm startles me, and I suck in a breath, turning to find Eight at my side, right in my personal space and staring hard at me as if willing me to understand what she wants. Crooking a finger, she takes off down a hallway toward the back of the building, not even allowing a moment for me to question what’s happening but leaving me to follow.
She finally pauses to wait outside a room I’ve never been to before and gives me the barest of smiles before pushing open the door and striding quickly inside. My brow furrows. If I thought all the cooking was odd and their ritualistic meal was just fucking weird, I’m now convinced things are about to get a whole lot stranger.
As I cross the threshold, my gaze wanders over the long table at the center of the room. It’s littered with brushes, combs, and other assorted grooming supplies, along with a stack of fresh towels. None of these things are available to us in the cellar.
A slight huffing noise leaves Eight’s lips as she marches back over and grasps my elbow, pulling me along behind her. Before I can make sense of anything, movement across the room makes me jerk to a stop. My heart thuds, heavy and uncertain. It’s a reflection I’ve caught in one of several mirrors… and the girl staring back at me is someone I hardly recognize. My eyes widen. I’m disheveled. Pale. And I look every bit the part of one of the Collective’s women. At that realization, my breath catches, and I lift a shaky hand to mymessy, flyaway hair, tucking an errant wisp behind my ear. Then, touching a few trembling fingers to my lips, I swallow hard past the knot that’s firmly wedged itself in my throat. I definitely don’t look like the girl who left the home anymore. A buzzing noise fills my ears to the point where I can’t concentrate on a single thing. Unease snakes through me, heightening my distress.
I don’t know how long I stare, but Eight’s biting grip on my elbow finally snaps me out of it. She ushers me across the room, tugging on my arm, and I blink as we come to a stop in front of not one but four huge claw-foot tubs. Steam curls invitingly from the water toward the ceiling. Confusion crashes over me. Tamping down my astonishment, my eyes flick to hers right as she gestures impatiently. Oh my god. I think one of these is meant forme.
Before I can move an inch, the door opens again, and both Sixteen and Twenty-one enter, crossing briskly to the other tubs. Both peel their gowns off, and Twenty-one climbs in and immediately begins the bathing process.
Oh. My. God.This is what Hayze was referring to when he taunted me about preparing myself for him in front of all those sick fucks. A disturbed, anxious feeling swirls through my abdomen as inside my head, I scream.
Other than the shower I was forced to take with an audience, it’s been nothing but sponge baths for days in the small bathroom downstairs, so the prospect ofclimbing into the water and sinking chin-deep is too good to pass up, yet I’m terrified of what’s to come.
With trembling fingers, I grasp the hem of my gown because all I can think to do is follow the lead of the others. Gritting my teeth, I strip, then gingerly throw a leg over the side of the tub. To my dismay, I let out a tiny whimper at the perfectly soothing temperature of the water before easing myself the rest of the way in.
Limb by limb, I relax until Eight takes my wrist in her firm grasp, and it becomes clear I won’t be left to my own devices. I give a strangled cry of surprise as she begins to scrub me from head to toe, cleansing every square inch with a soapy washcloth. I jerk so hard when she runs it between my legs that water sloshes over the side of the tub. Frowning, she drapes the washcloth along the edge before rinsing my hair with fresh water from a pitcher. Water streams down my face and I sputter, lifting a hand to signal to her that I can wash my own hair.
I’m fully ignored. Almost as if they are a tag team cleanup crew, Sixteen scurries over and gestures she’ll take over so Eight can bathe.
Warily, I watch her moving around, but I can’t tell what she’s doing with her back to me. Only a moment later, it all becomes clear. She dips her hand into my tub and grasps me by the ankle, hiking my leg up out of the water. A handful of something slick is smoothed over my skin, then she twists toward a nearby shelf. Confusion mars my brow as I frown.
A razor. My eyes widen, and I sputter in protest as she wastes no time at all and begins to drag it along my calf. I stare up at her until she finally looks into my eyes. And then she mouths two words.For Kiefer.
Oh, fuck. Fuck no. I grip the tub with both hands, but try as I might, my attempt at yanking my leg free of her hold is futile, no matter how much I kick and splash. I squeeze my eyes shut, my jaw held tight, and the moment she goes to continue, I struggle so hard, she doesn’t dare bring the blade to my skin. Small gasps and pants erupt from my lips, and I sense the flurry of activity around me, but I refuse to open my eyes. A moment later, my other leg is also yanked from the tub, and it’s all I can do to keep my head above water. Breath shudders from my chest, causing it to jerk unnaturally. There’s nothing to be done. Pressing my quaking lips together, I choose a spot on the wall in front of me and stare, unseeing, while these women remove all signs of hair from my ankles to the juncture of my thighs.
Kiefer. That disgusting excuse for a human asked them to shave me? I can’t wrap my head around any of this.
As Sixteen is toweling me off, from across the room, I sense eyes on me, and sure enough, when I angle my head in that direction, there’s Twenty-one staring daggers. I don’t have a clue what I’ve done to her, other than exist. From the moment she laid eyes on me, I’ve gotten a weird vibe from her, but then there’d been the fucking psycho warning about stayingaway from Kiefer, so maybe this makes sense. This crazy bitch thinks I’m moving in on her man. Like I’d want anything to do with him. I didn’t invite any of this, but maybe she assumes I did.
I look away and mind my own business until I’m finally ushered from the tub to join the others. Skin clean and glowing, they’ve moved to the table and benches to deal with their long hair. Sixteen motions for me to sit and holds up a comb. All I have the wits about me to do at this point is nod. I could deal with my hair myself, but she seems intent on doing it, so I’m not going to argue. It’s not going to stop this madness.
Setting my inner turmoil aside, I close my eyes, releasing a sigh as she works the comb through my tangled tresses. I’ve all but nodded off from the repetitive, soothing passes over my scalp when something touches my face and my eyes fly open. Startled, I gasp.
White, filmy fabric floats before me, dangled by none other than Twenty-one. I practically choke as the garment is pulled over my head, and it sends me careening headlong into a memory I’ve stuffed down and kept at bay for days now. The only time the horror I lived through has emerged to taunt me has been at night when I can’t stop the terrible mental souvenir from my time lost in the wilderness from drifting through my unconscious, sleeping mind.
What am I going to do? The erratic beat of my heart is heavy in my chest. The only sound louder is the incessant whooshing of blood in my ears. It increases involume with every second that passes without hope of escape from the mess I’ve found myself in.
I blink, unseeing, and suddenly … rain pours down on me. Even in the weakened state I’m in, I sense danger.
The man I’d met at the side of the road appears from behind a tree. I back up, skidding in mud and grappling for anything to defend myself. Desperation claws as he charges forward, blue eyes flashing. “Come here, pretty thing.” His voice makes a cold shiver rush down my spine, worse than the pelting, cold rain.
I shake my head, gasping out a weak “No!” before rolling to my hands and knees and scrambling to gain my feet. An unholy sound leaves my mouth, a fear-laden shriek of desperation, as a muscular arm belts around my middle and hauls me back against him.
I struggle, flailing in his hold. “Let me go!”
“And where do you think you’re going?” he whispers, his warm breath coasting over my cheek.
I shudder hard, my stomach pitching as he wrestles me to my back on the forest floor. He’s braced over me, one hand pressing down on my throat, and the other going for the waistband of my pants. I hammer my fists on his back, shoulders, anywhere I can reach. His rough grunts fill the air as he laughs at my attempts to fight back. Nothing I do fazes him. Tears well in my eyes.
He undoes the button and zipper of my jeans, then shoves his hand inside, groaning as thick fingers slip between my legs. A whimpered cry tears from my throat.If I can’t fight him off, he’s going torape me.
A hand roughly shaking my shoulder jerks me back from the snippet of memory, and I gasp, staring at Eight and Sixteen, who are peering at me with cautious curiosity.
