Cult

17: Identity

I wake up to the sound of a siren. Is the police here?! Thank God, they can come rescue me from this terribly twisted place.

But I won't go home. I'll go out of the country, maybe travel to Brazil with Sonya, anything but be with Zayn or my parents. I am 18 after all, I am legally allowed to make my own decisions and if I'm really being saved by the police, I refuse to lose my innocence to a man that doesn't care for me. I refuse to be cut or bled or tied. And I refuse to be anyone's sex slave

"Rise and shine, bitch," Scarlette's voice screeches. She blows a sharp whistle that pierces through my ear. I rub my eyes and sink lower under the covers, pulling them over my chest. The nightmare is real. I am still stuck in this whorehouse. And Scarlette is here to do God knows what.

I look down at myself and notice that the cut on my hand has been bandaged, as well as the one on my back. 

"Girls!" Scarlette screams. Her voice is too screechy and high pitched to be anything but annoying. I reach over and put my glasses on, grateful that Harry returned them to me. Despite the fact that he nearly made me choke on a strange liquid last night, it was nice of him to give my glasses back.

Switfly, the cloaked women from last night march into my room in a single file line and surround my bed. I push them away, but they yank me up and place my cloak over me. It smells fresh. The dried blood stains on the cloak has been washed off. I press my hand to my back. The mark Harry gave me on my back has also been dried up and cleaned. 

"How long was I asleep?" I ask. I feel as though I've been under some sort of a trance for days on end. And considering there isn't any light in this room, I'm even more confused as to what time it is.

"About 3 hours. It's dawn. You don't wanna be late for Day 1 of training do you?" Scarlette snickers. I stare at her. My head still feels strangely heavy and my body is still numb from whatever drink they gave me last night. 

Scarlette glances down at the white bedsheets. 

"He didn't fuck you, did he?" she asks. I look down, embarrassed. How can she say those words so plainly?

I shake my head "no."

Scarlette laughs hard. I scrunch my nose in annoyance. Harry was supposed to take my innocence last night, but he chose not to. I'm not sure if it's because he feels sorry for me, or because he isn't attracted to me...But at The Ball and last night and every time I've spoken with Harry, he has flirted with me, made it clear that he wanted me-- at least sexually.

"I want to do dirty things to you...Mark you with my bandanna... my tongue...my hands..."

If that's the case, why did he call me an idiot for signing the contract?

The more I think about Harry, the worse my head ache becomes. Scarlette claps her hand and the cloaked girls lift me up. They place me on a gurney of sorts of and wheel me off to another room. I scream loudly, terrified as to what they will do to me. 

Scarlette covers my mouth with a piece of tape. I stop screaming, knowing it is useless. If anything, my screaming seems to make Scarlette smile brighter, as though it brings her joy to see me in pain.

The girls wheel me over to a cold, bleak room. It is significantly more chilly than the rest of The House. And, like the other rooms, this room has a tiny window that's just big enough to let a sliver or fresh air and light in.

I lean up and see V standing with her arms crossed. She smiles as though I have accomplished something by surviving the first night.

I bit down on my lip. She thinks I've lost my virginity to Harry. She thinks I'm prepared for the training and what not. But I'm not. Harry spared me. Where is Harry, anyway?