Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

"You needto dust the wall. Afterwards, I have to take you to the cages to clean them." Bradley dipped down and, using both arms, lifted me upright.

"Listen to me, Demi. There is no way out, except one. One way out in a sense that you'll never be harmed." He held both of my shoulders as his face turned red.

"Okay, tell me the one way out?" I whispered as tears ran down my cheeks.

"If they give you the title."

"What title?"

"The favorite girl."

The favorite girl?What was that? So many questions swirled in my mind as I looked through the glass window in front of me. The woman on the bed had not even moved. I crept toward it and put my hands on the glass. I had to help her… I had to save her.

"Why is she in there?"

"Demi, she's in there by choice. The caged girls sound worse than it is. These are all women who signed up for an experimental study. They are all psychiatric patients of Dr. Ivory's friend, Dr. Decker Sterling, who were unable to do well with treatment. Now, they are here to be rehabilitated through The Ivory Experiment."

I didn't believe him. I didn't want to. I couldn't.

"They really signed up to be called a caged girl and live in a glass cage?" I grinded my teeth together as I shook my head. Realization of the way the popcorn machine was right by the window made my blood grow cold. "Wait… Does he watch her while eating popcorn?"

"Yes."

"I'm done. I don't care if they signed up. I don't give a fuck; I'm out of here." I smashed my hands against the door, screaming at it to open.

My heart pounded against my chest so hard, I swore it would burst through my flesh at any moment. The door wouldn't open… there wasn't a door handle, there wasn't a key, there was no way out.

I'm trapped.

"Bradley, please, I cannot breathe. I can't breathe." I clutched my palms around my neck, choking on every ounce of air around me.

Cold hands turned me around as I pressed my back against the door, hyperventilating. My vision was hazy as my anxiety gagged me.

"I'm going to count to three, and then you're going to take a deep breath and pull yourself together… Because if you don't, Demi, then they won't let you have the option of taking even one more breath," Bradley said through clenched teeth.

I began to cry, not in a sad, heartbreaking way, but in a defeated, exhausted way. The kind of cry that only comes out of your body when you know all your options have been depleted.

I tried to inhale through my nose but instead, I opened my mouth and swallowed air as I sobbed against Bradley.

"This is not okay… this is not okay," I cried out.

"Listen, you're going to be alright, Demi. It'll all be alright. You just have to play by their rules. You have to become the favorite girl and when you do… you'll get to leave."

"They killed Misha. That girl wasn't her. Wasn't Misha the favorite girl?" I sniffled, not caring that I had soaked his expensive suit with my snot and tears.

"She wasn't the favorite girl. They've been waiting for you. Now, you just have to pretend to be a part of this family. Do as they say and don't fall to pieces."

"Waiting for me? What about you? Why are you here? How long have you been here?"

"I've been here for thirteen years. I'm a felon who fell into the same trap you did. A simple, yet glamorous, promise of a safe place to live and a steady job. They know I'm loyal enough and won't leave. They… they have something on me—something they know I'll never leave behind."

"Shit. This is… horrible, and I don't even know how I'm supposed to do this, Bradley. I'm scared. Really, really scared." My body shook as I forced myself off a man I had just met.

"Fear is a simple reaction, but strength is a decision. Make the decision that can save your life." Bradley shook me as if he were hopeful I would break out of this state of panic.

"Bradley…" My chest tightened as I tried to calm down.

"Tell me something you've always dreamt of." I knew he was trying to divert my attention.

"When I was little… I wanted Nikes. So, I took a pair of raggedly sneakers with holes and with a Sharpie, I drew the signature check mark on them." I shrugged.

A long pause of silence fell between us. "That's really sad." Bradley's forehead creased as he looked at me with pity. "By the way, I found this in the trash. I think it was with your things." He tugged out the crumpled Biltmore Estate brochure and my lips parted.

Taking it from him, I shook my head. "I don't need it anymore. I guess I'm in the closest thing I'll ever get to being there." I tossed it into the trash bag.

He cleared his throat. "You should always have some kind of dream, Demi."

"No, girls like me… we don't dream. Dreams are meant for people who can make them come true. Nightmares, on the other hand… those are guaranteed."

Blinking rapidly, he shook his head. "Shut the curtains, wipe down his desk and the shelves, and dust his wall."

"What is that wall made of…? I've never seen something like it. It's so bumpy and?—"

"You don't need to know. But most of all, you don't want to know, Demi." Bradley pointed his finger in my face. "Just clean it," he gritted through clenched teeth and shoved the duster from the cart in my face.

At this point, my fear was evolving into anger. Anger that I was born with bad luck, anger that I never had a chance to live, anger that every single person in my life, besides one person, hurt me.

Lifting the duster in my hand, I rammed it against Bradley's perfectly coiffed hair. His lips parted in shock as his eyes widened. "What the hell was that?"

"Get out of my way, Bradley. I have to dust." I shoved him with all my might and walked around him.

Looking ahead through the glass window, the woman on the bed was still laying there. I was going to get her out. I was going to save her and myself. I had escaped before; I had survived.

And I can do it again.

I started to dust the strange wall and all the ridges of it. Growing closer to it, I froze as I notice small grooves and creases. Running my finger against it, I stopped breathing.

Was it wood? Was it…

"It's human bones, Miss Rao. Yours will be up there if you don't stop playing Nancy Drew," Bradley said quietly.

Exhaling, I cringed as tears rolled down my face. My fingers trembled against the plastic handle of the duster and I could feel the acid rise in my throat. Puffing my cheeks, I turned and ran to the cart, grabbing the small garbage bag and dry heaved until vomit spewed from my mouth.

"No," I cried through my gagging. Sinking to the cold floor, I began to cry harder.

"You're dismissed, Bradley." A familiar voice that didn't make my skin crawl caused me to lift my head.

Oh, great. Conrad Ivory was standing there in a light cream suit, like he walked out of a damn modeling campaign, while I sat crumpled on his dad's office floor, reeking of vomit with the backdrop of a bone wall and a woman held hostage.

The worst part of all, this handsome man in front of me had to be just as psychotic as them. I didn't want Bradley to leave; I didn't want him to leave me alone with anyone from this family. He glanced over his shoulder at me with his hands tucked behind his back.

Pinching his lips to the side, he shook his head slightly before the glass door slid open and he left.

Scooting, I pushed away as much as I could while wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Don't get near me. You are all deranged. You're all going to get caught. How can you be a part of this…? What is this?" I trembled as Conrad squatted down and looked at me intently.

"Demi, you are so lucky it was me watching the cameras and not them. You need to get off this floor, grab a damn mop, and do what the job entails. Clean and live. Simple. I need you to trust me." Conrad's voice was smooth and soft, not aggressive or rushed like Bradley's.

My heart rate began to slow as I tilted my head with realization. "Your eyes aren't green." I squinted at him in disbelief.

His hand shot up to his face as he looked away. "Shit," he mumbled.

"You have light brown eyes. Why do you wear green-colored contacts?" My breathing kept hitching. I felt like I was having an allergic reaction and began clawing at my skin. Tears blurred my vision as I receded up to the glass window and pressed my hands against the floor. My back constrained against the glass as I stared at Conrad in bewilderment.

Conrad's eyes widened as he looked through the glass window behind me. "Demi… whatever you do, don't turn around."

There's this theory that if someone tells you to not eat an apple, you'll want to eat an apple, even if you wouldn't have wanted it until they mentioned it.

And like the apple, as soon as he said don't turn around, my body flinched and I did.

The screams that left my mouth echoed so loudly, my own ears were ringing.

The woman who was laying on the bed wasn't laying anymore. No, she was standing there, with both palms pressed against the thin glass separating us, and she was smiling at me.