Chapter 20

TWENTY

I hadno idea what was happening. I didn't know how to process what had happened in the last twenty-four hours. But here I was, sitting in a chair, having some woman named Becca gel my hair back into the tightest bun as if I were a ballerina about to take the stage.

I was staring at Becca through the reflection of the mirror as she focused on my hair. She couldn't be much older than me. Her blonde hair was in the same kind of bun, and she was wearing an all-white outfit. Her skin was covered in a thick layer of makeup and her green eyes were darker than most of the staff and family in the house.

"Hey Becca, how long have you been working here?" I asked. Uneasiness was still churning in my stomach considering I had just seen a woman hemorrhaging out on a swing in the middle of a garden and my new employer was insisting I had done it.

"Two years," she answered without moving her eyes or hands from my hair.

"Do you like it?"

She froze and looked back at me through the mirror. "I used to live in a group home. A different kind of hell. The Ivory family took me in, and I have everything I could ever need."

"Are you a maid, too?" I asked quietly.

"No. I'm a keeper and beauty expert." Becca straightened her shoulders and pursed her thick lips that were painted in a strange nude color.

"What's that?"

"Demi, the less questions you ask… the less answers you'll need and the better off you'll be." She took a small brush and neatly combed the tiny hairs across my hairline.

"Done!" She beamed and placed her hair tools neatly across the vanity in front of us.

"Look, for girls like us…" Becca murmured and glanced around. "This place is a safe haven for girls like us, the ones who come from nothing but a background of intense trauma. You're not here to dissect the family and their hobbies or tendencies. Clean, eat, exercise, and enjoy living in Charlotte's largest estate with the most prestigious family."

Becca busied herself while I mulled over her answer. "Your outfit is hanging in the powder room, and your cleaning supplies are right outside the door. Follow the hall all the way down and make the first two lefts; you'll end up in the peony garden."

"Okay, thanks, Becca." I nodded and tried to absorb her words. She was saying the simple truth. This life was going to be a hell of a lot better than being slaughtered or raped in the middle of the night at some bonfire with a group of misfits that I belonged to.

Becca left me alone in the small room, and I quickly grabbed the hanger off the bathroom door. Unzipping the bag, I tugged out the short white dress, and to my surprise, found a white lace thong and a strapless white lace bra.

"What in the world? Why do I need to wear lingerie under my work clothes?" I laid it out on the bed and brushed my hand across the fabric.

Shaking my head, I peeled my nightgown off and put everything on. Standing in front of the mirror, I tugged on my white platform shoes and took a deep breath.

There I stood, wearing all white, with a sleeked back bun and no makeup. I reached to the vanity drawer, where I found a neat line of tubes of lipstick and lip balm. Glancing over my shoulder, I figured it'd be okay to put some on considering Mrs. Ivory ripped the dead skin off my lips with her fingers.

Grabbing a tube of lipstick, I rolled it up and looked at the creamy nude color. Maybe I should stick to some basic Chapstick. I didn't know the rules about makeup, and I didn't need to get into any more trouble. My trembling fingers grabbed the lip balm, and I quickly rubbed it against my lips.

Smacking them together, I turned and left the room, and just as Becca had said, there was a small white cart with a trash bin, a bucket full of what smelled like bleach and soap, and a mop, along with other cleaning supplies.

"Okay, Demi, you can do this…" I whispered to myself and began to push it in the direction of the peony garden. I was terrified of what I'd see. Did they remove her body? Had they really left all the blood there for me to clean in broad daylight? The estate was gated and secluded, but still… this was insane.

Once I made it outside, I slowly pushed the cart across the cobblestone path and dragged my feet to the spot we were in last night.

Standing still, I looked all around me in shock. The small swing was moving against the breeze, but it wasn't the wind that was moving it.

It was a woman who looked just like…

"Hey, Demi, you totally skipped our date last night." The girl slid off the swing and walked toward me. She was wearing the same long, gold gown, with the same makeup and hair. Everything was the same, minus a clear difference in her face. Her eyes were a little bigger, her nose slightly smaller.

"Misha, remember? We met last night." She stuck her hand out and waved me toward the swing.

Glancing around the swing, there wasn't an ounce of blood anywhere. Rubbing my head, my slicked-back hair started to hurt; it felt like my skin was crawling and my head was spinning.

"Are you sure? I swear… I swear the Misha I met last night was…" I looked around wildly as my panic rose.

"Are you alright, Demi?" She grabbed my hand and tugged me to the swing. Sitting down, my chest tightened. It was all meticulously clean. The fresh scent of peonies wafted throughout the air and not a single ounce of anything was out of place.

"Didn't I do such a great job last night? The harp is a must to learn, and I'm sure you'll learn it, too. I think they are going to pick you…"

I stared at the woman in front of me. Sure, she looked likeMisha, but she sure as hell wasn't her. Squinting, I could see a small scar run across her cheek that I knew without a doubt Misha did not have. I remember thinking how perfect and flawless her skin was. How her makeup looked like it had been done professionally.

"Okay, I'm about to catch my train soon but basically, you will be assigned to The Ossis wing. It's the most private wing of the estate. Dusting is key. Dr. Ivory is very, very meticulous about dust. You also will be in charge of the pulchritudo floor, which is really Mrs. Ivory's belongings and prized possessions. Pulchritudo means beauty and it will make sense when you get there. Make sure to use the boar brush only. She'll lose it if she finds out you've used anything but that. Hmm… what else?" She tapped her perfectly manicured, blush-pink nails against her chin.

"Oh, why, of course. The most important of all the rules is absolutely never, ever speak or make a single sound on the Ossis floor. Do not speak to them, engage, or shift your facial expression."

"Speak to… them? Who?" I could feel my forehead crinkle as I looked at Misha 2.0 sitting in front of me.

"Oh… the caged girls." She tilted her head at me in confusion. "I figured Bradley had already taken you there since you're going to be their main caretaker." She clicked her tongue and stood.

"I'm not a caretaker; I'm a housekeeper. I really can't even take care of myself, so I highly doubt I could take care of some dogs in cages."

The Misha imposter erupted into shrill laughter, slapping her hands over her mouth immediately. "Oh my, my, my… Demi." She continued snorting and laughing into her hands as tears dripped from her eyes.

"Dogs… dogs in cages. The caged girls aren't…" She began laughing again and shook her head. "Okay, I must get you to the Ossis floor to begin cleaning, but it was a pleasure meeting you, Demi. Time to go!"

Misha stood and gripped my head between her hands, pressing a kiss onto the top of my head. "I love your black hair…" she said sorrowfully before tugging me up and pointing to my cart. "Let's go!" She rushed off rapidly, and I clutched the cart and followed behind her.

I would act as normal as possible; I'd clean today and then tonight, I'd pack my bags and escape. I wasn't going to stay here. Who cares about some ridiculous contract? They don't own me; I'm not their property. Who does Dr. Ivory think he is?

Nodding, I turned the cart around a corner as Misha glided down the narrow, dimly lit hallway.

"Yea, fuck the patriarchy." I smiled to myself, thinking about how I was about to give that man the middle finger and sneak out with my dignity intact. These psychos were trying to convince me I was a murderer. They wanted to force me to eat a certain way, dress a certain way…

Nope, I'd find another job. Maybe some shady motel would hire me and could pay me under the table. I didn't have a bank account—I couldn't risk my name being on legal documents—but I'd find something.

This was all too much.

"Here we are." The woman who claimed to be Misha paused and took out a golden card. "This is your badge to get in and out of the Ossis wing. Mop all the floors and dust the wall in Dr. Ivory's office. You'll know which one. Bradley will pick you up in approximately an hour to take you to the next part." She slid it over to me and moved out of the way to allow for me to use it.

Tapping the strip against the small keypad-style lock, I waited a moment and then magically, the door began to quietly open on its own.

Walking slowly, I pushed my cart through the door. There were shut doors on both sides, and I had no idea where I was supposed to begin. There wasn't even a door handle. Standing in front of the first door, I raised my hand just about to knock, but instead it opened immediately on its own.

Stumbling back a bit, I waited until it was completely opened before peering in. It was a stunning office. "Hello?" I called out, my voice echoing in the empty space.

Loosening my shoulders, I glanced up at the ceiling and noticed a small device that moved.

A camera. They're watching me…

Grabbing the mop, I dipped it into the bucket and quickly began to mop the already-spotless floors.

Making my way farther into the room, I stopped in front of the massive wall behind his desk. The textured wall in shades of cream and white was stunning, and I'd never seen anything like it. When I asked Bradley about it, he brushed me off. That must be the wall that the woman claiming to be Misha had told me to make sure to dust. There were three desktop monitors on the waterfall-style, smooth marble desk. An oversized cognac brown leather chair sat behind it, with two bookshelves on opposing sides of the textured wall. The strangest thing in the space that stood out like a sore thumb was the popcorn machine in the corner beside a large window that was covered by curtains.

Putting the mop back into the bucket, I walked around to the bookshelves, fully expecting them to contain the same style of medical textbooks the other ones had from yesterday.

But instead, my lips parted as I stared at them. Peeling one out, my eyes widened. They weren't medical textbooks, they weren't thriller novels… they were romance novels. The kind that have a handsome man on the front cover. Flipping it open, there were so many lines highlighted.

I looked around once more. Was this Mrs. Ivory's office? No, it couldn't be. Dr. Ivory's medical degrees and awards were displayed on one of the walls.

Pulling the chair out, I sank into it and placed the book on the desk. "With my hands tied up, he ran his tongue down my neck, shoving it into my mouth as he parted my legs and pushed inside me, roughly."

Closing the book, I felt uncomfortable. Dr. Ivory read smut? Why did he highlight passages?

"What the hell are you doing?" My heart jumped as Bradley stormed in.

"My God, you are an idiot." It was like a flash how fast he was moving around, before he yanked me out of the chair and grabbed the book from my hands.

"What is wrong with you?" he hissed at me, splatters of his spit touching my skin.

"Wrong with me? You lied to me! You implied I killed that girl. But boom, some random Misha replacement arrives and acts like nothing happened. What is this? Some sick game? I'm done; I'm leaving tonight." Resentment, fear, and anxiety were building inside me as my hands trembled.

Bradley pushed the book back into its place before grabbing my arm and bringing me to the far-right corner of Dr. Ivory's office.

He looked up at the ceiling and turned his back. "Demi, what do you not get? You cannot leave when you want to… the only way out of this estate is in a hearse."

My stomach dropped. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I don't even have anything to pack. I'll just walk through the front doors and close it on the way out. I'm not their property." I knocked my shoulder into Bradley's and immediately went to open the door.

But there wasn't a door handle. "How do I get out?" Frustration was clear in my voice as I flung back around.

Bradley stood with his arms crossed, watching me race around the office and eventually tugged open the curtains.

Except, I fell backward because the curtains weren't concealing a window that looked outside. The curtains covered a glass window that looked out into an insanely bright, all-white room that blinded me.

But it wasn't the room that terrified me; it was the fact that a woman was in it. She was laying in the center on a small cot.

"What the…?" I walked backward, staring at her and flicking to the popcorn machine that was sitting in the corner beside the glass.

"I'm calling the police… This is crazy, Bradley. This is illegal." I was shaking, my entire body went cold as I forced myself to blink and try to find a phone.

"Bradley, what is going on? Why are you working here? What is this?" I was running around like an animal in the middle of a busy interstate. I had no clue what direction I should be going in, no clue if there was even a point of running, because suddenly, I realized the outcome would be dangerous, no matter which way I went. Slamming my hands against the walls, tears stung my eyes.

"Demi. Please just stop," he whispered. But he wasn't angry, he seemed desolate.

For me.

Dropping to the floor, I pressed my face between my legs, trying to gulp in long breaths of air.

"The caged girls… aren't dogs. They are… girls? Humans…" I drifted as my world seemed to close in around me.

"Yes."

That one word ripped me to shreds. They say lying is immoral, but lying is actually a protective mechanism that helps guard us from something like this.

A truth we can never come back from.