Page 90 of The Dancer and the Masks (Their Obsession 1)

“I see,” I reply, not really seeing at all.

“Like I said, you’ve totally messed with their heads, not to mention the fact that you’redancingin the show andnotdoing the other…stuff. I overheard Jakub speaking with One yesterday. He was adamant that you perform but aren’t available for anything else,” she explains brightly. “See, helikesyou. They all do.”

I raise a brow at her. “I couldn’t care less if they like me or not, Nala. I’m still getting out of here.”

“But…”

“But what? Do you think because I’m not actively trying to escape every second of every day, that I’m okay with being here, that I don’t want to go home? They’vehurtme, Nala.”

I don’t say that they’ve also brought me pleasure, both stolen and given. She doesn’t need to know any of that, and I certainly don’t want to pay it any more attention than necessary.

“Hurt people,hurtpeople,” she says softly.

I snort. “I won’t feel sorry for them, so don’t even try to change my mind.” Despite my determination to remain unforgiving in that respect, I’m briefly reminded of the boy Jakub was in my vision: bruised, undernourished, and afraid. My heart pangs in sympathy for that boy and what he must’ve suffered. But I quickly shove it aside.No.

“Okay,” she mumbles, clearly hurt by my refusal to accept my life here.

Stopping in front of a door to our left, I can hear the haunting notes of a piano being played and just like the other day, chills run down my spine at One’s incredible talent.

“She’s a gifted musician,” Nala says, smiling gently, affected by the music just as much as I am. There really is something uniquely beautiful about the way the notes lift into the air and caress the senses. My skin tingles with the emotion her music invokes, the hair on my arms lifting just like they had in the Grand Hall.

“Yes, she is...” I agree, my voice trailing off at the look on Nala’s face. “But?”

“Just watch your back with her. She’s used to being number one, and now you’re here. Well…”

I shake my head. “I’m Nothing, Zero, Nought,” I remind her. “Or have you forgotten that?”

Nala reaches for my hand and squeezes it gently. “You’re far more than that and you know it.”

With that she twists on her feet and walks off down the corridor, leaving me wondering how a sixteen year old child could be more insightful than many adults twice her age.

* * *

The momentI step into the studio, the music stops and every single Number turns to face me. They’re all present, each of them in varying stages of undress, presumably a dress rehearsal given their choice of outfits or rather, lack of them. Even Thirteen stands to the side of the room, dabbing ointment onto Twelve’s raw back. I swallow hard at the deep welts and the lashes that criss-cross her olive skin, wanting to reach out the hand of friendship but knowing it wouldn’t be well received.

“Welcome, Zero. We’re pleased to have you join The Menagerie,” One says, drawing my attention back to her. She has a smile fixed on her beautiful face but it doesn’t cover the fact she’s shocked by my appearance. There’s a manic, almost unhinged part of me that wants to shoutsurpriseand wave my hands in the air just to see their reaction. Of course, I don’t.

“Yes, we’re happy to have you,” Three adds, her welcome sincere, unlike One’s.

“I’m not,” I reply tightly, gritting my jaw and willing myself to keep my head held high. They can all look at me with pity in their eyes, and some with barely veiled hatred. I don’t care. I’ll never be one of them. I will never be a part of this willingly. “I had no choice but to take part in the show, and I’m not going to pretend that this is something I’m happy about because I’m not.”

“Don’t you dare fuck this up for us,” Eight interjects coldly, her bare tits wobbling as she slides into a cupless bra, supported by nothing more than leather straps. “You might turn your nose up at us, thinking you’re better because you don’t agree with what happens here, but this show is our life and there isn’t one person in this room who won’t kill you if you cause us issues.”

“Don’t speak for me,” Six snaps, glaring at Eight.

“Or us,” Seven and Three add.

Eight snorts, rolling her eyes. “Why am I not surprised? You three just love a lost cause. Well, if Zero fucks up, you can be the one who deals with the aftermath of that because I sure as fuck won’t be volunteering for a whipping when our Masters lose their shit again.”

“That’s enough, Eight,” One says, rising gracefully to her feet and ending the argument with a sharp stare. “We’re afamily, remember?”

Eight huffs, busying herself getting dressed whilst One wanders over to a rail of clothing on the far side of the studio and starts flicking through the rack. She pulls out a rose-pink, floor length dress made of silk. It has thin spaghetti straps, a low back, and a slit from thigh to ankle. It’s pretty and something I would never dream of wearing. Folding it over her arm she walks towards me, a smile fixed on her face.

“Due to her injuries Twelve is unable to partake in the show this weekend. So you’re a welcome addition,” she says, handing me the dress.

“What’s this?” I ask, taking it from her. It looks expensive, and far too revealing.

“What you’ll be wearing to perform in.”

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