Number Thirteen (9 page)

I finish up the mouthful, and make out like I’m eating the rest, before getting up carrying the tray back to the cart, not daring to look at the camera and give myself away. I can only pray that they haven’t noticed. I’m sure they will have the groups clean the dishes tomorrow, so if they don’t look, then they won’t see that I’ve not finished. I move to the bathroom while the other girls eat, and I have a quick shower, enjoying the warm water that seems to soothe my body. I finish up, and then walk back to the bed, noticing that I’m nowhere near as exhausted tonight as I usually am after dinner.

I tuck myself under the sheets, and watch the other girls. Like every other night, they eat their food, drink their milk, and then shower quickly before quite literally passing out. I narrow my eyes, wondering why tonight I’m not feeling that pull into sleep. I close my eyes anyway, wondering if I’ve just got too much on my mind. I try to even out my breathing, but it doesn’t seem to lull me into sleep. I don’t open my eyes, because I know if I’m seen moving around I’ll only bring more trouble.

Finally, after a few hours, I drift off into a light sleep.

“If you move, I’ll hurt you,” a voice breathes into my ear.

He’s so heavy. I can’t breathe when he’s like this. I’m only small.

“If you stay still, it won’t take long. You should know this by now.”

I wake up panting, and sweat trickles down my forehead. I...
dreamed
. I haven’t had a dream since I can remember, and tonight one decided to surface. Bile rises in my stomach as something tugs at my heart. That dream...it seemed familiar, only I don’t really know how. I steady my breathing, and press a hand to my heart. I close my eyes and try to put together some fuzzy pictures in my head, but nothing is happening, and it only makes me frustrated. Why can’t I remember?

I hear the door creak, and my body quickly stiffens. Who is coming in?

I lie still in my bed, and listen as the door opens wider. I see Bill in the light from the hall. He walks over to Number Three’s bed and takes hold of her, lifting her out. He has her in his arms, like a baby, and she stirs, making groggy sounds. He leaves the room with her, and a sick feeling washes over me. Where is he taking her? Oh God, are we being raped in our sleep?
Worse?
I cringe, and lay with a pounding heart, just waiting for him to bring her back.

About an hour later he does.

Then he takes Number Seven.

I want to get out of my bed and rush over, seeing if the seeian remgirls are okay, but I know if I move I’ll give myself away, and something is tugging at my heart strings, telling me that right now I need to witness whatever is happening here. I have to play along.

I wait, lying still as the guards go through the girls. When it’s my turn, I close my eyes and let my body flop as Bill lifts me from the bed and carries me out.

It takes all my strength not to pant and show my fear, but I can feel it coursing through my veins.

We get to a small room, and I hear the door creak open. It seems to get a touch darker when we step in, but not so dark that there’s no light at all. It must be a dull lamp. I keep my eyes closed, even though I want to open them. I feel myself being laid on what feels like a couch, and I work my entire body to make myself seem floppy. My heart is hammering. If they know I’m really awake, I might get taken away. Something bad might happen.

“This one is the strongest of the group. She has great determination. You’ll probably need to dig deeper with her.”

Master William? Oh God, he’s here.

“What we’re doing in here, William, isn’t a proven method. With the fragile minded, it tends to work better, but with those that are fighters, sometimes we are unsuccessful.”

“You’ve been successful so far.”

“Because they’re not fully aware of what’s happening they have no reason to fight it. But I cannot guarantee their memories will be kept at bay.”

“It’s working well with the other three girls.”

Other three? What about the other girls here in the house? Why only us?

“These four girls are the most broken; you’ve got reason to believe they don’t need their memories right now. The others in the group are stronger. They’re fully aware of their lives before this, so for them, this is somewhat of a luxury. With this group of four, it’s very different.”

This woman, she’s talking about our group. He didn’t pick us randomly on that first day, there was a reason our group was put together, and it appears it’s because he wants us to forget our lives. Why would anyone think they had the right to take someone’s memories? Why do the other girls get to remember? Why does he even have them? I don’t understand.

“Begin, so we can call it a night,” William orders.

“Okay, honey, wake up a little,” the woman says, stroking my cheeks.

I nearly just fling my eyes open, until I hear William say, “The sleeping drug in the milk we give them is quite powerful. Sometimes it takes a bit to rouse them, and even then they’re drowsy.”

Drugs in our milk
. Oh God. That’s why I haven’t slept tonight, because I didn’t drink it.

If I did, I’d be drowsy.

I wouldn’t have remembered this.

They have to believe I’ve had my milk. I don’t know how the other girls acted, so how am I to know if I’m doing it right? I try to think about how I feel when the milk first begins to take an affect on me. My body feels fuzzy and weak, and my eyes get heavy. It’s hard to lift my head. So, with that in mind, I slowly open my hazy eyes but I keep my body floppy and weak.

“Good, now look at me.”

I see the woman in front of me, but only just. She comes across as hazy. She’s got long, blond hair and big blue eyes. She has a warm face, very gentle. She begins speaking softly to me, and, funnily enough, as if my body is aware of what she’s going to do, I start feeling a little hazy. I move my eyes as I begin to ss I firdrift, and I catch a glimpse of William sitting in the corner. My heart stops beating.

He’s got his hand over half his face, like he’s leaning into it, and he’s staring down at a phone in his palm.

Seeing him like this makes my body feel tingly. He’s tall, just as I’d thought he was. He’s wearing a black suit, with a blue tie. It stretches across his hard, muscled form. His hair is thick, long, and hangs around his shoulders. I can’t see much of his face, but he lifts his gaze and the eye that’s not covered by his hand is beautiful; it’s as blue as the ocean. My breath hitches, and I make a strange little sound. His gaze meets mine, and for a split second we hold it, just staring at each other. He scrunches his brow, as if something isn’t quite right, before the lady begins capturing my attention again.

He has eyes I’ve seen before, but I don’t get a chance to think about where.

“Put your arms over your chest, Number Thirteen.”

I do as she asks, almost automatically. The moment I do, I seem to drift off into a trance-like state, and my entire body feels warm and content. I hear her instructing me to do things, and my body complies, even though I’m not asking it to. Then, I feel myself sink off into a deep, sleepy place when she orders me to calm down and relax.

I don’t wake again until the morning.

I don’t remember much.

“Wake up, girls.”

I hear Bill’s voice, and I groan, shifting in my bed. It takes me a moment to adjust to my surroundings, and I remember that today is going to be a crazy, full-on day because Master William is having a dinner party. I sit up slowly, and while my back still feels stiff and sore in the mornings, it feels much better. My mind is quite hazy, and I’m struggling to figure out why. It feels like there are memories hanging right on the edge, needing to get out, like there’s something I should be remembering.

“Eat, get dressed, and then line up outside the door. We have a big day,” Bill says, then turns and walks out of the room.

I slowly rise, rubbing my forehead as I do. I stare at the other girls, all ruffled from sleep, running their hands over their faces. I feel strange this morning, and I can’t quite figure out why. Maybe I just had a restless sleep. I try to remember if I did, but it seems hazy. I get flickers of the evening before. I recall not drinking my milk, and...my body freezes. They took us somewhere. I remember being taken somewhere.

I get out of bed and rush into the shower, shutting the door quickly. I put my head in my hands.
Think!
I try to figure out what happened, but the images only come through as hazy patches. I remember a woman, pretty. She spoke to me. She asked me questions, questions I don’t really remember. Then everything went dark. I don’t know why I was there. Why did they take us? I angrily rub my head, sick of not being able to remember what’s stored in my own brain. These memories are mine, and so help me God, I’ll fight to get them back.

The one thing I have pulled from all this is that the milk isn’t something I should drink. So from now on, I will make sure I don’t drink it. I’ll also be writing anything I remember down on the small notepad that’s in the drawer of my bedside table. I need to figure this out. I’m missing something here, something big. I need my memories back; I need to know who I am. Feeling my chest swell with determination, I s smine there trip off and get into the shower.

They won’t beat me.

I
t’s the first time since we’ve been here that we’re all in a room together again. I stare at the other girls, and they so obediently stand, facing the front wall. Why are they like that? So weak? Following his every command. They’re not even trying to fight; they’re not even trying to get out of here. Why? Why would they just give in and let this happen? Maybe they’ve been beaten, too; maybe they’re scared. I don’t know, but I do know I can’t ever let myself look so...so...resolved.

Bill begins speaking in a loud, authoritative tone. I slowly turn my attention to him.

“There is a lot to be completed today, the house needs to be cleaned.”

It is.

“The washing needs to be done, there’s to be none laying around.”

There’s none.

“The dining room needs to be set.”

Obviously.

“And dinner needs to be cooked.”

No shit.

I shake my head, unsure why my inner thoughts are so...blunt. I feel like a part of me is being taken away, and I’m the only one fighting to get it back. The guard walks over, and divides us up. For the first time we’re separated into different groups. I’m put with Number Two, the Latin American girl, who is really,
really
pretty. The others with me are Number Eight, who is the tall, athletic girl that seems friendly enough, and Number Eleven, the big, butch girl who kind of scares me. We’re assigned kitchen duties, so I guess my day is being spent cooking. There are worse things.

As soon as we’re grouped off, we get to work. We immediately go to the kitchen and stare down at the menu that has been done up for the night. We’ve been given a copy to work with, and it’s on a shiny, silver piece of paper that is decorated with swirls and tiny little diamond-like beads. There’s a long, white feather attached to the corner of it, and it flutters about when it moves. I stare down at it, and I know just how much we have to do today. We probably need to do one thing each, or we’ll be here running around in circles all day.

“Okay, I think we should group off and do one thing each,” I say, taking charge like I usually would with my group.

Number Eleven, the big, butch girl steps forward, and glares at me. “Who died and made you boss?”

“I...excuse me?” I stammer. “I’m just trying to organize this so we don’t—”

She cuts me off, stepping closer. “So you don’t get sent back for punishment? We’ve heard all about you, and we’re not letting you take charge of anything. We heard what you put your group through. Don’t you know they all have to go to some sort of therapy at night because they’re so fucked up? You’re the fucked-up group. They picked you for a reason. You’re the idiot who tried to escape instead of doing the right thing. You’re the master’s little
pet,
because you’re so damned simple. I hear he likes simple.”

My heart seizes. I don’t know what she’s talking about. Why would she be so cruel to me? She doesn’t even know me. My breathing becomes labored as I straighten my shoulders. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I don’t know you, and you certainly don’t know me.”

She chuckles. sSheat y “But I do know you. We all know you. We have all been told about the ‘special’ group.”

Special group?

“Why are you being so cruel?” I whisper, glaring at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, do that hurt you, honey?” she mocks. “Maybe you should go sit on the master’s lap.”

What? How would she know that? How does she know any of this? Anger swells in my chest as she continues to bait me.
Don’t let her get to you. Don’t let her put you and your group back in that basement.
I ignore her taunts, and turn, not making eye contact with the other girls who stand quietly in the corner. They don’t look like they are as mean as her, but they also look smart enough not to try and defend me. I decide on taking the entrée, and begin creating it. They’ve got garlic prawns on a bed of seasoned cous cous. I need to prepare all the prawns, and for twenty to thirty people, that will take a while.

I hear the other girls get to work, and as Number Eleven goes past me, she shoves me hard into the counter. I bite my lip to stop from lashing out, but warmth floods my veins, and my chest puffs out as I try to keep my anger at bay. I fight back my tears and keep preparing. I don’t have time to let her get to me. I can’t let another person create who I am before I know myself.

This isn’t the only time she shoves me. It continues throughout the morning. She shoves at me when she walks past, pushes my bowls off the counter, scattering food onto the floor, and puts her leg out when I go past so she can trip me up. By the time lunch rolls around, I’m at the end of my tether. So when she shoves me, I spin around, knife in hand, and I snarl at her. “Will you just go away? What have I done to you?”