This story is about an 18 year old girl whose name is McKenzie. Full name; McKenzie Baker. She grew up with somewhat loving parents. Her mother cared so dearly for her and so did her father...kind of. He neglected her but paid more attention to her...
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It's only been ten minutes since the incident that happened in the bathroom. Others have gotten sexually assaulted; others have been through rape. But what just happened to me and my best friend together at the same time will probably be unforgettable and awkward in a way.
We couldn't even defend ourselves and that's the worst part about it...
"I'm sorry that happened to you girls, we didn't know" one of the women from earlier said to us as she walked over to a shivering Brooklyn, getting ready to do her hair.
"I-it's not your fault...may-may I ask a question?" Brooklyn responds, attempting to stop the quivering in her voice.
The woman nods and begins on Brooke's hair as the other one did mine. "Why are you two here? Like what made you wanna work here?" Brooklyn asks with a hint of curiosity on her face.
The woman behind me sighs and begins to brush my hair. "We were taken...like you two were. When we went through what you two are about to go to, they asked what our capabilities were because apparently, they were short on hairdressers and things of the sort." She started.
"When they found out we could dress and do hair, they ended up taking us back here and said if we didn't do our job the right way we were going to be separated. They still stand on those rules, that's why we can't say what we really want to." She finished, grabbing the curling ironers.
Brooklyn looks zoned out into her thoughts, almost as if she's thinking what if we're separated because we have no idea what's going to happen to us after this.
"I'm sorry to-" I tried saying but she cut me off.
"Don't be. Don't cry, don't say anything smart, only speak when you are spoken to, when you're asked a question, I advise you answer with complete honesty. If not that, as much honesty as possible. Don't cry, most of the girls here gets killed for crying." The one doing Brooklyn's hair laid out the ground rules.
We both nodded in sync and that's when I completely zoned out, worried about what might happen a few minutes from now. Where will I end up tomorrow? Where will I end up in a year? Will I even still be alive then?
By the time I was out of my thoughts, my hairstylist was done with my hair. I had on a black dress that was so tight you saw every single curve on my body. The heels were probably six feet, and I could barely walk in them like a normal human being. My hair was curled in a bun with two strands of hair curled in front of my face and Brooklyn had the same kind of dress. Hers was just red and a tad bit longer. Her hair was long and wavy, with small accessories in her hair.
"Good luck and remember what I said." The woman whispered in me and Brooklyn's ear, and we were too afraid to nod or even acknowledge her the slightest bit.
The two me that brought us to the makeup room approached us out of nowhere and dragged us to the tallest black door there, indicating this must be what the hairstylists were talking about.
