The Cunning (18+)

4

When Madison awoke, her memory was foggy. The night came flooding back like a cold slap once she realised she wasn't in her bed. The surrounding walls were not the cool blue she was used to, but off-white, and in place of her plush cream carpet was a thin grey one. Either side of the double bed was a nightstand and a chest of six drawers stood against the wall at the bottom. The wall to her right, next to the door, was a built-in wardrobe with sliding mirror doors.

When the tears had dried up, and her fists were tender from pounding on the door, she had ransacked the place but found nothing useful. The drawers were mostly empty, and the wardrobe was full of men's clothes. Eventually, her sobs had consumed the night and between deep breaths, she heard cries from other girls accented by an orchestra of twilight guests coming and going. At some point, she fell asleep.

Madison's head whipped around at the sound of the key in the lock. The door complained as it opened, revealing Jase, hands in his jogger pockets.

"You've got 30 minutes in the shower. Shave your legs. Wash your hair," he ordered. "We've got guests tonight. Make yourself presentable." He tossed a toothbrush onto the drawers and left.

Madison sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes puffy and lips swollen, a long way off presentable. With aching bones she grabbed the toothbrush and shuffled into the hallway. The house was quiet. From the landing at the top of the stairs, there was a direct path to the front door. She wondered how long it would take her-

"Don't be stupid," someone hissed. Madison jumped, frantically searching for the source, locating a pair of big muddy eyes peering at her from one of the doors. "They won't kill you," she continued, "but they will torture you if you try to make a break for it." She opened the door wider, enough to extend a translucent arm. Initially, Madison thought they were cigarette burns bruising and scabbing the grey skin, which was bad enough, but on closer inspection, she saw they were track marks from needles. This was the girl on the sofa. Her hair was damp and frizzy now, framing a face so thin her eyes looked comically large regardless of how sunken back they were. "I didn't have a habit when I got here," she said. "They give it to you if you misbehave, so you're willing to do anything for a fix. Take your shower and do as they say."

A creak on the stairs startled the girls. Madison's heart jumped to her throat at the sight of Adam climbing towards her with a nasty scowl. The girl shut her door, catching his attention. He bared his teeth, grabbing Madison by the roots of her hair, ignoring her pained howls as she dug her nails into the flesh of his hand.

"Get in the fucking shower," he growled, swinging her into the bathroom. She keeled over, holding the back of her head, tears streaming as she rubbed her pulsating scalp. The apologetic ramblings on the other side of the door were quick to turn into screams that ripped through the house. Madison turned the shower on full, grateful for the high pressure drowning out the shrieks that would undoubtedly haunt her.

The mirror on the medicine cabinet was still foggy from whoever used the bathroom last. She wondered how many girls there were in the house. She thought about missing posters she'd seen but would never recognise the girl in person because there were so many faces. Now people would see her on missing posters and never think about her again. An old school picture left to curl at the edges between train timetables and taxi companies on notice boards.

She wondered if anyone had even noticed she'd gone yet. The idea was laughable. The only one that would notice her absence anytime soon was the neighbour's cat. Maybe her dad in three weeks, when he didn't receive her monthly letter. It wasn't as though she had friends, none outside of a polite conversation with a co-worker. Keeping her distance from everyone and everything had been Madison's safety precaution. She never thought being an introvert would bite her in the arse.