Tessa.
The first thing she registered was the softness. A mattress so plush it felt like sinking into a cloud. The second was the silence. A thick, insulated quiet that was a world away from the grimy alley.
Her eyelids were heavy, glued shut with the residue of the drug. She forced them open. The room was not a grimy cell or a dark basement. It was a bedroom. A lavish one.
A crystal chandelier cast a warm, golden light across cream colored walls. The bed she lay on was a massive four poster, draped in silk sheets the color of champagne. A single, perfect white orchid sat in a smooth vase on a heavy mahogany nightstand.
She sat up too quickly. The room spun, and a wave of nausea rolled over her. She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to clear the fog from her mind. This wasn't a rescue. This was a cage. A gilded one, but a cage all the same.
“You’re awake.”
The voice was small, trembling. Tessa’s head snapped towards the sound. Curled in an ornate armchair in the corner of the room was another girl. She couldn't have been much older than Tessa, with wide, terrified brown eyes and tear tracks staining her cheeks. She was clutching her knees to her chest, making herself as small as possible.
“Who are you?” Tessa asked, her own voice a rough croak.
“It doesn’t matter,” the girl whispered, not looking at her. “None of our names matter anymore.”
Tessa swung her legs off the bed. Her body ached, a dull throb in her neck where the needle had gone in. “Where are we?”
“The waiting room,” the girl said with a bitter, humorless sob.
“Waiting for what?” Tessa pushed herself to her feet, testing her balance. She felt weak, but the adrenaline was beginning to burn through the last of the drug’s haze.
“For them to come and get us.” The girl finally looked at Tessa, her eyes swimming with fresh tears. “For the auction to start.”
Tessa stared at her. “Auction? What are you talking about?”
“They’re going to sell us,” the girl choked out. “My brother… he owed them money. So they took me.”
“My father,” Tessa said, the words like stones in her mouth. It was the same story. They weren't special. They were just currency.
“I heard them talking,” the girl continued, her voice gaining a frantic edge. “When they brought me here. They called us ‘lots’. Like we’re furniture. Or cattle.”
Tessa’s fists clenched at her sides. The fear was there, a cold, coiling serpent in her gut. But something else was there too. A hot, defiant rage. “No,” she said, her voice low and hard.
The girl flinched. “No? What do you mean, no? We don’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” Tessa said, her eyes scanning the room, not as a prisoner, but as a fighter looking for an advantage.
She walked to the heavy wooden door and twisted the ornate brass handle. It didn’t budge. Locked solid. She pressed her ear against it but heard nothing. Solid, thick wood.
“I already tried that,” the girl said, her voice laced with despair. “It’s locked from the outside. There are no windows.”
“I’m not looking for a way out,” Tessa said, turning back to the room. “I’m looking for a weapon.”
The other girl’s eyes widened in shock. “A weapon? To do what? You want to fight them?”
“I’m not going to be dragged onto a stage and sold like a goddamn television set,” Tessa snarled. “I won’t make it that easy for them.”
She moved to the nightstand, her heart pounding. She picked up the smooth, heavy vase. It was beautiful, but it would shatter on impact. Not good enough. She put it down.
“They’ll kill you,” the girl whispered, horrified.
“Maybe,” Tessa said, her hands running over the polished surface of the mahogany table. It was too heavy to lift, bolted to the floor. Everything was. They had thought of everything.
“What is your name?” Tessa asked, not looking away from her search.
“Sofia,” the girl mumbled.
“Okay, Sofia. How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. An hour? Two? I woke up here just before you did.”
Tessa moved to the bed. She yanked back the silk sheets. Nothing. She felt under the mattress. Nothing. She looked at the heavy velvet curtains that lined one wall, a cruel mockery of windows. She strode over and ripped them aside, revealing only a flat, cream colored wall.
“It’s hopeless,” Sofia cried, burying her face in her hands. “We should just pray they sell us to someone who isn’t a complete monster.”
“There are no good men at a place like this,” Tessa said, her voice flat. She ran her hand along the curtain rod. It was solid metal, but it was screwed into the wall with hardware she couldn't possibly break with her bare hands.
Frustration burned in her throat. The luxury of the room was an insult. It was designed to make them docile, to present them as pristine objects for purchase. She refused to be an object.
She looked at the lamp on the nightstand. It was heavy, with a solid brass base. She grabbed it, wrenching the cord from the wall. She hefted it in her hand. It was clumsy, but it was something.
“What are you going to do with that?” Sofia asked, peering through her fingers.
“When that door opens, I’m going to swing,” Tessa said. “Maybe I only get one shot. Maybe it does nothing. But I’m not going down on my knees.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m angry,” Tessa corrected her. She positioned herself to the side of the door, the lamp held high like a club. Her arms trembled from the weight and the adrenaline. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
“Please, just put it down,” Sofia begged. “You’re going to make it worse for both of us.”
“Worse than being sold?” Tessa shot back. “There is no worse.”
She looked at the terrified girl huddled in the chair. A part of her wanted to scream at her, to tell her to get up, to fight. But she just saw a reflection of a fear she was desperately trying to crush inside herself.
“Listen to me, Sofia,” Tessa said, her voice softer now, but still strained with intensity. “When they come in, don’t scream. Don’t cry. Whatever happens, you look them in the eye. You don’t let them think they’ve broken you. Do you understand?”
Sofia just shook her head, silent tears streaming down her face.
Tessa knew she was alone in this. A waitress against a world of monsters. Armed with a hotel lamp.
It was a stupid plan. It was a suicidal plan.
It was all she had.
She tightened her grip, her knuckles white. She stared at the door, willing it to open, her entire being focused on a single point of impact.
As if in answer to her silent prayer, a sound echoed from the other side. Not a voice. Not footsteps.
A sharp, metallic click as a key slid into the lock.
The handle began to turn.
