I have to convince myself that they are toying with me. Finding some sort of pleasure to be able to escape for even a little bit of time in this house of horrors is how I’m going to be able to cope with this.
He gets up, unlocks the door, and yells, “Next!”
He pulls me out of the cuffs and shoves me into the hands of one of the guards who comes in through another door. I don’t even notice who since I am so dazed from that incredible orgasm. I still feel the guilt gnawing at me from enjoying it.
I wait outside the room against the wall as, one by one, the girls filter out with the guards walking in front of us, holding their guns in front of them, silently pleading for us to give them trouble.
We are then shuffled like cattle into this gray cement room with multiple shower heads. “You have 5 minutes to wash up, starting now.” Not caring which guard said it, lost in my own anxiety, my feet just lead me under a showerhead, and most ofus, including me, have to share one. I feel almost immune to my nudeness in front of everyone.
Ice-cold water hits me as I hop backward, but I don’t care as long as I can get the grime and stickiness off of me. There is shampoo and conditioner, so I wash my hair, not knowing when our next chance to shower might come. I carefully wash my body, avoiding my new piercings, as they are sore and inflamed. After finishing, I find the towel basket and grab one, drying off and slipping my gown back on. There are holes in the ground to relieve ourselves, so I do; after gently wiping and seeing all of the blood, I throw it in, unable to look at it any longer. After washing my hands, one of the guards points for me to go outside the room and wait on the wall like before.
After all the women finish up, we are led to a set of stairs and retreat down them for about three floors. All I can do is stagger in whatever direction we’re being led to. We stop at another room, and this one has a thick metal door with the smallest window at the top. You would have to be at least six feet tall to look in. They unlock it, and one of them says, “Get the fuck in there.”
I look down while I slowly walk in, drenched in shame. To my complete surprise, there are bunk beds, some already filled with women. They each contain a pillow and a blanket, if you can even call them that. They seem so worn down. Same as before.
I pick a bunk and lay down immediately, closing my eyes. Tears start pouring down, and eventually, the blackness takes over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It’s Tuesday night, and I still haven’t heard from Cassidy. Where the fuck is she? It’s like she completely ghosted me after mind-blowing sex and a nice time together. I’ve never been ghosted before, and I would be lying if it wasn’t a total hit to my ego. Anyway, I need to try to catch up with her tomorrow since our fraternity has a chapter meeting tonight, and that is one of the things that is absolutely mandatory. You can’t miss it, no matter what.
My day pretty much goes like every other day. I go to the gym, classes, and then return to the fraternity house to play video games with the guys, killing time before chapter meetings. I head to our cafeteria and grab a bite to eat so I’m not starving most of the time since the meeting can go until midnight. Thereis always a lot to cover, including events, voting on new rules, or just some guy who wants his fifteen minutes of fame and drones on for an hour or so.
One of the rules for attending chapter meetings is to dress professionally. So, I put on some slacks and loafers, paired with a polo shirt, and throw on a blazer with my pin on the outside. I make my way down to the basement where the meeting is held, which is the same place as initiation. There is always one of the older brothers outside of the door. You must perform our secret handshake to be let in and recite the password that only initiated brothers know.
After waiting in line, it's my turn to perform the handshake and say the password, and only then does he open the door for me. Newer initiated brothers sit in the back while the older brothers sit in the front. There is a panel at the very front on a stage facing us. They hold high positions in the fraternity and deliver any kind of news related to events, finances, and well-being as a fraternity. I grab a seat in the back, ready for a long night, and lean back in my seat, trying to get comfortable. I spot Archer right away, already in the middle of the panel, scanning over the brothers. One of the other panel members whispers to him, and he nods his head, gazing intently at him. Behind the panel is a huge projector, so if one of the brothers on the panel has something he wants to say, he can present it. This is where some of the homemade porn is shown. I swear this is the kind of stuff that gets you ready for corporate America; it is so formal.
About thirty or so minutes later, Archer hits the gavel, which signals that chapter is starting. We start with mediocre things, what events we are supposed to be at, which sororities we need to hang out with more and attend their events, and then finally, it is Archer’s turn to speak. The president is always the first one to present after the miscellaneous information, followed by theother cabinet members. One of the older brothers, who is still standing by the door, locks it and puts himself in front of it.
The newer brothers sit up straighter, like me, looking around at what is happening. I have this uneasy feeling in my gut.
“As you are all initiated, we need to go over some very serious things that are to remain in the brotherhood. If you repeat anything that is said tonight, you will be killed, including the person you told, and then we will go after the people closest to you, including your family and closest friends. We have people who will make it look like an accident and clean up the mess. We have our claws in law enforcement, the medical field, and any type of lawyer you can think of,” he states, looking around the room, daring us to make eye contact or make any sudden movement for the door.
My eyes have his complete attention, and a shiver runs through my body. You could hear a pin drop with how silent it is. What the hell could he be talking about, and why would my dad encourage me to join this? He sure as hell knows about the underground situation they have going on here and obviously have been involved in for quite a while.
“The business that helps finance this fraternity and gives us all the luxuries we have is human trafficking, specifically women, as they bring in the most money. We have a type, and we hunt them down. They undergo an extensive process before an auction ensues, and they are sold to their new masters. Every brother here is involved in this process. There are teams that find the girls, prepare them for transport to our remote warehouse, orchestrate the auction, and get in contact with potential buyers. The benefit for you is that when you graduate, you will be able to be a buyer in these auctions and have a little pet for yourself.” He smirks. “If that’s what you want.”
I try to keep my poker face on, but my mind is whirling with all kinds of thoughts. How long have they been doing this? Howare they getting away with this? This is barbaric. Selling humans and taking away their lives as they know them? What are we? Free labor with the benefit of being a willing participant in these human auctions? No thanks. Sweat beads on my forehead, signaling vomit is approaching. Quickly, I swallow it down, scared of the repercussions.
“On the screen, I have put you in teams, and there will be no further discussion. You will do as you’re told, whether you like it or not, no questions asked. As for the newer brothers, you will get your additional brand tonight, signifying you are 100% involved and committed to this.”
Archer clicks a button on the remote, and on the projector, groups with names underneath them pop up.
I frantically search for my name. When my eyes find it, I see that my name is with the prep group. Awesome. So, I have to aid in stripping them of their lives and looks, treating them like dogs by putting them in cages, readying them for the hell they are about to endure for the rest of their lives at the hands of my older fraternity brothers.
Who wants to be part of this? Sex slaves? Human trafficking? How could it not make you sick? The richest and most successful people obviously get bored and think of doing these kinds of things simply because they can.
The next screen shows the brand that will be placed on our chest, right on our pectoral. It is a triangle with a candle in the middle. Wow, they want to make sure we know we are part of this, so if we open our mouths, the authorities will know we obviously played some type of part in this, but knowing what I know now, there are some seriously powerful fraternity brothers out in this world, and there is no doubt that their reach is great. It wouldn’t surprise me if they have the best lawyers on deck and brothers directly in law enforcement, just down the street.
Holy shit. This is going to hurt, and there's nothing I can do about it. I’ve seen my dad’s, but he just passed it off as something stupid he did in college when he was drunk. Not a fucking brand seared into your skin, signifying your involvement in this kind of evil.
“Line up new initiates; older brothers, you are dismissed,” Archer announces as he bangs his gavel down, indicating chapter is now over.
I get in line, preparing for this to hurt like hell, feeling like my hands are completely tied. The brothers in front of me scream, and one passes out. Two older brothers have to hold us while we get it done. They don’t want anyone trying to run and back out or fall to the ground.
When it is my turn, I turn my chin because I don’t want to look. As the brand is seared into my skin, the smell of burning flesh is nauseating, but I take some deep breaths and stand up after it's over, feeling a little lightheaded. It is quickly covered with a bandage and medical tape, and I’m dismissed to go back to my room.
I run up to my room, shut and lock the door, and collapse against it, panic rising to the surface as I scan my surroundings, not trusting this place any longer.
