“Yes,” A young voice whispers, laden with despair. “There are about twenty others down here.”
The children.
The fucking children.
I shake the gate of my cage with all my strength, desperate to find any give.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I whisper, trying to sound reassuring despite the pounding in my head. “I’ll find a way out of here—”
“You’re Eden,” The young girl’s voice trembles. “They’ve been talking about bringing you down here for days.”
“H-How long have you been down here?” I ask, my voice barely more than a rasp.
“I-I don’t know,” She replies, her voice muffled by tears. “They pump us with stuff from those clear bags,” She gestures weakly,and I finally notice the IV drip attached to both her and my arm. “It makes everything confusing.”
Ripping the IV from my arm, I clench the needle tightly, my mind racing. I need to get out, I need to—
“Take yours out,” I whisper urgently. “All of you, take them out—”
“That only makes things worse,” She hisses, fear evident in her voice. “Please, just stay quiet and listen—”
I glance down at myself and realize, with a shock of revulsion, that I am no longer in Roman’s clothes. I’m wearing a white medical gown. My undergarments are gone.
What the hell is happening?
“The bid will happen soon,” The girl sobs. “The men upstairs promise we’ll go somewhere better than this. Maybe my new family will help me find my momma—”
“Upstairs?” I question, my voice trembling.
The girl falls silent, leaving me to listen to the muffled groans and sobs from the other girls in their cages. My focus shifts to the distant sound of a piano playing somewhere above us.
Jesus Christ.
We’re in the church’s basement.
Reaching for Roman’s ring for solace, I discover it’s been taken. They stripped me clean.
I jiggle the cage again, the lock sliding tantalizingly close but still just out of reach.
“Have any of you ever tried to get out?” I ask.
The girl’s silence speaks volumes.
These cages were built for children, not for a grown woman.
Scooting on my rear, I press my feet against the gate’s door, bracing myself for a desperate attempt to break free.
With every ounce of strength I can muster, I slam my feet against the gate. The loud rattling makes some of the other girls gasp.
“Don’t—”
Ignoring her plea, I continue pounding the gate with my feet, shouting with each impact.
“Just,” I yell. “Fucking,” the lock rattles with each strike. “Open!”
The gate swings open with a creak, my heart pounding in my chest.
Still clutching the needle, I drag myself across the cold, grimy floor. I grab the first candle I can find and force myself upright, using the wall for support. The flickering light reveals the horrifying scene before me.
