Page 4 of Marks of Rebellion
"Undress. Go," the man says in Spanish and points to the water.
I do as he says, and my skin crawls as he eyes my body. I quickly grab the bucket and step into the water.
When I'm rinsing my hair, there is a commotion.
"Stop hurting me, you thug!" a woman's voice says in Spanish.
"Clean up," the man who brought me directs me, and I obey, continuing to wash my hair.
"Strip," the new man yells.
The woman soon joins me, and when I see her face, I'm shocked.
"Zoe," I whisper. She's the most famous Latin pop star in the world. Six months before my kidnapping, she went missing. I know her. I've met her several times at embassy parties.
She hugs me. Our bodies are naked, but I don't care. A tear falls down her cheek. "Vanessa. What are you doing here?"
"Don't touch! Clean up now," one of the men yells, and we quickly let go of each other.
"We'll talk in the pit later tonight," she murmurs.
"The pit?"
"Yep. Home sweet home," she sings.
"I... I have to eat dinner with Santiago." I swallow the lump in my throat.
"Lucky you," she sarcastically says. "I have to sing to the thugs again."
"What do you mean?"
She rolls her eyes. "Oh, every now and then I have to put on a concert. Dress and all."
"Dress?"
She snorts. "Yep. I'm sure you'll have one, too."
"They have dresses here? In the jungle?" I ask in disbelief.
"Yep. Santiago thinks he is cultured. How warped is that?"
"Stop talking. Wash faster," the man yells.
Zoe grabs the razor out of the bucket and shaves her armpit. "Thank God I had most of my hair removed via laser."
I look down.
How long has it been since I had a good wax?
Zoe hands me the shaving cream. "I think you might need a few of the razors. Good thing they just restocked the bucket."
"I'm not shaving for those bastards."
Something crosses in her eyes. She lowers her voice. "You don't have a choice. Hair isn't allowed. Santiago won't have it. And the last thing you want to do is rile the beast."
"Seriously?"
"Yes. Here, let me hold your ankle, and you can do your legs."
