Chapter Fifteen
Hydration
I wake to a hand over my mouth, fingers clutching my shoulders, my legs, my arms. I’m lifted from bed and dragged into the hall. When I realize what’s happening, I kick and scream, the sound muffled, but it’s no use. There are five Carnations against one measly Minnow and this won’t end well.
Mercy tells the girls to drop me when we reach the bathroom.
I land hard on my right hip and Mercy holds a finger to her lips. “If you yell again, we’ll make your life a living hell. Got it?”
I nod, because I don’t know what else to do. But already—so quickly it causes my head to spin—Wilson is rousing. I can vow to stay quiet, but I make no such promises where he’s concerned.
Raquel steps forward. Her neck appears even longer as I look up at her from the floor.
A nice neck for the gurney.
“If you want to be one of us, you have to be initiated.” Raquel looks at Mercy, and Mercy grins. The two girls have their differences, but on this point they agree.
Mercy motions toward a third girl, the only one who is barefoot. Her toenails are painted blue, and she has a glass in her hand. The girl disappears into a toilet stall. There’s a plunking sound and then she reappears, the glass brimming with water.
“I don’t want to be one of you,” I say when I get where this is headed.
Raquel’s face softens like she’s sympathetic. “Oh, sweetie, of course you do. Now drink up.”
Barefoot girl crouches down and offers the glass. I shake my head, but she shoves it into my hand anyway. After getting to my feet, I stride toward the sink, my hands sweating. There’s no way I’m drinking toilet water, and what’s more, I know doing so won’t stop their bullying. Still, knowing this doesn’t stop the anxiety from building in my chest.
The fourth and fifth girls block my path. “Drink up,” one says.
“Yeah, drink up,” Mercy adds.
Raquel pumps her fists. “Drink, bitch, drink!”
“Drink,
Drink,
Drink!”
Their voices blend together until it’s one solid wall of sound. I can’t escape it, and I can’t escape them. I drop the glass, and it skitters across the floor unbroken. When I make for the door, Raquel grabs me by the hair. It’s the same move I wanted to pull on her earlier. My wig comes off in her hand. “Oh, for crying out loud,” she says before reaching for me again. This time her fingers find purchase. “Back on your knees, pig!”
“Oink, oink!” the girls chant.
“Get more water,” Mercy instructs the girl with blue toenails. She obeys and scurries toward Mercy, slipping once on the water covering the floor. “Now,” Mercy tells me. “You can drink this yourself. Or we can make you. Which will it be?”
“Why are you doing this?” My teeth chatter from shock. I concentrate on select emotions—sadness, fear, surprise—because if I think about the other ones…
—Anger, rage, fury, Wilson whispers—
…I won’t be able to control him. And though these girls deserve to be put in their place, they don’t deserve what Wilson will bring. So, no, I won’t drink that water.
“I see how this is going to go.” One of the girls grabs my real hair and yanks my head back while another pries open my mouth. I close my eyes and consider calling for help. But if the madam hears me, what will happen? Will she assume I’m to blame? It’s five girls’ stories against mine.
By accident, the girl with the blue toenails slips a ring finger into my mouth. She was only trying to pry my lips apart, but now it’s there, fat and plump and pink on my tongue. Wilson says it once, fast and hungry—
Bite down!
No, I tell him. I won’t!
Fine, he says, shrugging. Then I will.
My teeth come down on her finger, and she howls with pain. Her scream tears through me, puts Wilson back to bed, and brings me—Domino the Gentle—back to the forefront. I open my mouth, and she rips her hand back.
“That’s it.” Raquel grabs my throat and squeezes. It isn’t enough to really hurt, but it’s a promise of something more, and I’m terrified of what will happen if it comes to her and me in a full-on fight. “Open. Your. Mouth.”
I’m shaking from head to foot, and tears are slipping down my cheeks, tainting Dizzy’s shirt.
“We won’t leave until you do.” I can tell that she means it. That this will grow increasingly violent until someone gets seriously injured.
Won’t be us, Wilson whispers from his bed.
Quiet!
I pull in one long, shuddering breath, and Mercy skips in place. She knows I’m going to do it.
“Give me the water,” Raquel tells the girl whose finger I bit.
“There isn’t much left,” the girl replies. “God, she really bit me. I probably have rabies.”
“Shut up.” Raquel reaches for the glass, one hand still on my throat. The girl hands it to her. “Open up, deary.”
I fill my head with things that are good: crunchy leaves falling from trees and a green lizard hiding in a lilac bush. Ducks eating bread thrown from my hand and a train speeding down its tracks, both wild and contained at once. Also, my father. My father shaving his patchy beard and spreading butter on my half-burned toast. My father watching the Patriots play, pointing his hot dog at the screen to make a point the ref can’t hear.
My father, there.
My father, gone.
I think of him, because I cannot think of my mother.
I open my mouth, and the water rushes down my throat. One full swallow before I gag and spit out the remainder. Lukewarm liquid rushes over my cheeks and washes away my tears. It swims in my eyes and shoots up my nose, stinging. Above everything else, here’s what I think: it tastes the same as water from the sink.
And then Mercy grabs my chin and lifts my face to hers. “Stay away from our clients.”
The girl with blue painted toenails throws the rest of the water across my chest, drenching Dizzy’s shirt. I’m not sure why, but that’s the thing that pushes me over the edge. I jump to my feet, deciding in a careless moment that I’ll let Wilson free. There are other ways of making money, and I don’t need this. What’s more, I’m positive I’m not the only one they’ve done this to.
When the girls see the look on my face, they sober.
I take two steps toward them, quick, my brain buzzing with nothingness, and then I slip on the wet floor. I fall onto my injured side, and my hip sings with pain.
The girls roll with laughter.
They laugh all the way to the far wall, where they flip the light switch and leave me in the dark. They laugh all the way to their beds as Wilson edges closer.
You almost let me come out, he chances.
I don’t answer him because he’s right, and there’s nothing I can say to convince him or me otherwise. I almost caved. I almost blacked out. I almost let Wilson do my bidding.
Maybe I should have.