Francesca took us out into the back of the woods—a practice run for the Culling. She and her men used plastic arrows to track us down, shooting them at us like we’re fawn running from a hunter’s hungry stomach.
The objective is not to get hit, and the burning in the back of my thigh is a constant reminder of how epically I failed. I came so close to succeeding, but then Sydney happened.
She was waiting for me and stuck out her foot right as I passed by, Francesca’s arrows nipping at my heels. I face-planted the cold earth, and by the time I got back up, an arrow was ripping through the air and piercing the back of my thigh.
It didn’t break the skin, but I can tell I’m going to wake up with a nasty bruise tomorrow. Though, I’m sure it’ll be swallowed up by the others when I receive my punishment.
“What the fuck did I ever do to you?” I snap, throwing my arms out to the sides. Her smile grows, the gleam in her eye a testament just how unhinged she is. “We are in the same exact situation. Why are you acting like this?”
“I heard Francesca talking about you soon after you got here. Said you were promising and might be her best girl yet if she can correct your attitude. Then yesterday, you went and got yourself raped, and I saw her face. I saw her almost step in. And she’s never done that for me or any of the other girls. But then—” she holds a finger up in the air— “Then, you punch Rocco and break his nose. He wanted to punish you for it, and you know what she did? She took the punishment for you instead. That’s definitely never been done for any of us.”
My brows knit, confused as to why Francesca would do something like that.
“She’s giving you privileges that we don’t get because she thinks you’re special. Well guess what, diamond, I don’t think you’re special at all.”
Doesn’t really matter what you think, does it, bitch?
I’m not exactly sure if Francesca will stand by her confidence in me now that I’ve failed the test today, but determination cements into my bones anyway.
If she sees potential in me—if she’s going as far as to protect me—then there’s a good chance I can get her to see me as a person.
We’re seen as cattle. Product to mold to perfection and then ship off to the highest bidder. However, the more she sees me as something other than just a price tag, the more she’ll soften toward me. That could mean letting her guard down. Letting information slip or getting privileges that could assist with my escape.
My thoughts race with the possibilities that could mean for me. I know that I won’t be exempt from the horror that comes hand-in-hand with human trafficking, but I might be able to save myself from some of it.
Sydney understands this, and maybe rightfully so, she’s not happy with it. There’s a power imbalance, and the other girls might start to feel the same.
“We’re all leaving this place,” I remind her. “Soon, we’ll be shipped off to whoever pays the most money, and how Francesca treats me won’t matter anymore.”
“It does matter,” she snarls. “I want to stay here, and she won’t let me now that you’ve shown up. You heard her.”
I set my jaw. Sydney doesn’t want to see the diamond shine because that means she’ll be expected to as well. And when we shine, that means we are good enough to be sold. Francesca cares about one thing above all else—her reputation. And there’s only one thing Sydney wants more than anything—not to be sold—which must be why she acts out so badly and causes trouble. Her punishments are worth it, as long as Francesca never sees her as fit to be auctioned.
“Why do you want to stay here so badly?”
“Because it’s my home. I have nothing outside of this house, and I would rather be here than stuck with some fat, old man with a worm dick. And you are ruining that!”
I blink. Interesting depiction, but not entirely wrong either.
“You get raped here, too, Sydney,” I point out.
She shrugs. “It’s not so bad. It’s what I’m used to and comfortable with.”
Another blink. How one could settle into the life of being raped and beaten is beyond me, but she’s hinted at having nowhere else to go. This tells me a life outside of this house for Sydney is bleak. Nonexistent. Most likely filled with nights on the streets and random men.
And I suppose being in a house with the monsters you know is safer than a man who paid money and believes they own her.
Men have this funny habit of thinking they're entitled to women, especially when they don't respect them. As if their respect is a determining factor on how women deserve to be treated.