BLACK RED BLOOD WHITE

Chapter Three, I

CHAPTER THREE

Ursula playfully threw herself onto the soft bed, its puffy mattress embracing her like a welcoming cloud. The cloth covering the pillows was scented and silky, a luxury only gentlemen could afford. These were not the hard, plastic-covered pillows of the poor but rather an embodiment of wealth and opulence. Only the best adorned this house, she thought.

She walked barefoot to the bathroom, filled with perfumes, cosmetics, and new, sealed makeup items waiting for a woman's touch to unwrap and use them.

Daringly, she opened the wardrobe doors wide. Ten dresses hung there, each on its hanger. They were exquisite creations, made for a classy woman. They were made of white satin, with long sleeves and pleated knee-length skirts. Ten identical dresses, each with a label still attached, virginally untouched. These were tailor-made, each one worth an average middle-class worker's monthly salary.

In the dresser in front, cream leather pumps with razor-sharp heels stood waiting.

Those ten dresses made her feel uneasy. Ten women could have worn them.

She opened the dresser drawer more hesitantly this time, revealing lace underwear—guêpières, cupless bras with woven threads, sheer silk panties—all in white, like brides at the altar. Silk stockings with lace garters lay alongside, their hooks hidden beneath demure bows.

She closed the drawer.

Perhaps she would put on that lingerie, one of those dresses, and a pair of those shoes. She would pretend not to be surprised, maintain the initial enthusiasm fueled by the ambition of being chosen by fate for a new life full of opportunities. She'd overlook the vague disconcertment she felt at being cast as an actress in a more elaborate theater of prostitution than usual.

In the end, though, she would have a hot, hearty meal, sleep in a soft bed, and engage in a sophisticated conversation. Prostituting herself felt almost innocent and righteous in comparison.

Ursula undressed and walked briskly into the spacious bathroom. She filled the tub with perfumed foam from a bottle, apparently left for her, or for as many women as this gentleman desired. She would now be naturally clean in his presence.

Anna observed.

The young girl did not flinch; she was accustomed to false gifts, male manipulations, and the veneer of eros concealed by the mask of vice. She did not question why it was so easy for good things to happen to her. She did not remember sinking into the warm, scented water that the devil so easily grants.

Soon she would realize. Perhaps it would have been better for her to die at her own hands, so she wouldn't have to witness the terrible abomination about to be committed. She wouldn't have to witness her death, reflected and mirrored in the death of every girl who followed her.

He imagined her blonde head, filled with delight, and with just a thought, he could push it beneath the water. He no longer had arms or legs to act.

Ursula gasped as she felt herself being thrust into the water, submerged below its surface. She clutched desperately at the edge of the tub and stamped her feet, causing the water to overflow oddly.

Silence enveloped her as she struggled. She gasped for breath.

Then she was pushed under again. She tried to scream, but only inarticulate sobs came out, allowing the perfumed water to enter her mouth. It flowed down her throat, blocked her nostrils, and flooded her stomach.

Anna watched.

She felt a twinge of regret. She could have helped her, but the thought that she might enjoy it now, being violated, filled her with envy for something she could no longer have.