How to Fall in Love (78 page)

Her name.

Her name.

I close my eyes. Not even she knows her name, I can’t just give it to my brother. He can’t have a piece of her that no one else but me has.

“I don’t remember it. There’s too many of them.”

He’s silent again. “William, are you
lying
to me?”

My chest seizes. Just the thought of lying to someone has everything inside me coiling up. I hate liars, and I hate people who do wrong. I just lied to my own brother. I just became what I’m trying to teach the girls not to be.

“Yes, sorry,” I mutter. “Her name is Emelyn.”

Just saying her name has my entire body breaking out in shudders. Such a perfect name for such a broken girl.

My broken girl.

“Damn,” he murmurs. “It’s as pretty as her.”

“Are we finished here? I have work to do.”

He snorts. “Always the charmer. Send me the reports you did up last week. I need to go over them before sending them in.”

“I’ll do it now.”

“Also, the figures for January are due up tomorrow. You got them ready?”

“Yes.”

“Right, if I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you at Dad’s birthday.”

“Later.”

I hang up the phone and sigh deeply.

This isn’t going how I’d planned.

~*~*~*~

“S
end Number Twelve in,” I order George.

He nods and walks out. I head over, switching the light off and taking a seat on the lounge with only a dim lamp on. I have been narrowing it down between the three girls for the past few weeks. Number Seven has no interest in giving herself to me; she’s too timid, and finds it difficult to speak to me. It’s now between Number Twelve and Number Thirteen.

I have a strange connection with Number Thirteen. She makes me feel, which is something I rarely do. She challenges me, she brings out the best and the worst in me, but she’s stubborn, and she’s quite determined to fight me with this the entire way. Number Twelve is sweet, and is slowly allowing herself to trust me. She’s letting me in, but she’s dong it so easily. Almost too easily.

“Sir, here she is.”

I turn in the seat and see Number Twelve, blindfolded. He leaves her at the door, and closes it.

“Come over here, Number Twelve.”

She makes her way over to me, her hands reaching out to guide her way. When she stops at the couch, I take her by the hips and pull her onto my lap. She’s bigger than Number Thirteen; she doesn’t fit me so perfectly. I reach up and stroke her long, thick hair. She shivers, and nestles in further. I want a lover; I make it no secret. I just need one who...fits.

“You’ve been behaving very well, Number Twelve,” I say to her.

“Yes, Master.”

Another thing Number Thirteen doesn’t do—she doesn’t call me Master.

I won’t admit that I like it. I like that wild, determined side.

“And are you beginning to feel more comfortable?”

“Yes,” she breathes.

“I’m happy.”

I stroke my fingers down her back, and she shifts in my lip.

“Sir?” she whispers.

“Yes, Number Twelve?”

“I...I just . .. I know we’ve been doing this now for a while, and I think I know what you’re wanting from me. And I wanted...I mean...”

“Don’t mumble, just tell me,” I encourage.

“I want to give myself to you. I trust you, and I want to go to the next step. I want this.”

I can’t say I’m not shocked; I am. It’s what I’ve been working towards. I want their trust, and I want them to offer themselves to me. I’d never force a woman, but I never expected her to be the first to give it. I rest my hands on her legs, knowing that she thinks she wants to give herself to me, but that she’s not entirely ready. However, I cannot make an informed choice if I don’t take her up on her offer.

“Lay down, Number Twelve.”

She makes a squeaking sound, and shuffles off my lap. I place her in front of me, staring down at her. She’s beautiful, without a doubt, but I can’t seem to push Number Thirteen from my head. I have to do this, even if my body is screaming at me to go the other direction. If Number Thirteen never gives herself to me, I’m risking losing everything. I have to give them all a chance.

“Spread your legs, sweetheart,” I murmur. 

She trembles, but her legs drop open. I take hold of her pants and lower them, before discarding her panties. She’s spread wide for me, and she’s a very beautiful woman down here. She’s fresh, and lovely, and she smells great. I push any hesitation back, and I do what I have to.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” I murmur, and lower my head.

T
he week drags by.

None of us speak or really communicate at all. We just go about our business as instructed. We clean, we cook, we do the gardens, and we all visit with Master William. He doesn’t see Number Seven as much as Number Twelve and I, but I think she’s okay with that. She doesn’t seem to want to be with him. I’ve been seeing him daily, and he continues to hold onto me, stroking my hair, running his fingers along my skin.

But we haven’t spoken. Usually I challenge him, but now I’m just letting him sit with me, taking him in. If he wants to speak, he can be the one to start it. I’m hurt; he hurt me. I’m still upset about that, and I haven’t recovered enough to let him back in.

Yet each day I go and sit with him, I find myself warming up. I have begun to crave his fingers on my skin. I have learned to love his smell. He is getting to me.

The last time I saw him, we sat side by side. He didn’t speak, but he took my hand, and placed it in his lap. He held it there for a long time, and eventually I found myself moving closer to him. The warmth of his body soothed me. Before my time was up, he turned and pressed his lips to my forehead, warming me from the inside out.

Number Twelve said he communicates well with her, and by the blush in her cheeks, she is enjoying him as much as I am. She’s got something there. She no longer looks terrified, she no longer looks like she wants to run and escape. Instead, she looks like she waits for him to call her in, like it is now her light. 

The idea of that hurts me, and I don’t even know why.

By the end of the week, I’m beginning to feel a little less remorse over Number Three’s death, though at night when I go to bed, I stare at her empty space, and my heart aches for her. I hope she’s happy now. I hope she’s found the peace she was so desperately seeking. She deserves it, probably more than anyone.

“Girls.”

We’re in our room on Wednesday afternoon after having completed our chores early. Bill comes into the room, and his face is relaxed and calm. He’s no longer on full alert; it’s like he’s beginning to trust us. Well, why wouldn’t he? We’ve been perfect.

“Because you’ve all behaved so well this past week, you’re to be rewarded. Master William is giving you the afternoon and evening off. You can roam free, enjoy whatever you like. The library is open, and well stocked. There is a living room that contains a television with a vast range of DVDs. If you want to, get outside, take a swim or a walk through the gardens. We have also put a pack each in the bathroom that contains shampoo, conditioner, and moisturizers. Feel free to use them.”

He nods his head, and turns and walks out.

We all sit and stare at the empty door, the one he has left open. I blink my eyes, confused, and I turn to Number Twelve, who is staring at the door, too. Number Seven is shaking her head softly, like she refuses to believe we’ve just been given free reign of the house and yard.

It has to be a trick.

Right?

“Do you think it’s a trick?” Number Seven asks, mimicking my exact thoughts.

“Why would they let us do as we wished?” Number Twelve murmurs.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “They did say that if we were good, we would be rewarded. Do you think that’s what this is?”

“I’m worried if I go out and accept it, I’ll get punished.”

I nod in agreement with Number Twelve, and stare at the open door space. Instead of going towards it, I get up off my bed and walk into the bathroom. Sure enough, there are three packs in there filled with shampoo, conditioner, and other nice-looking products.
There should be four here.
Shaking that thought from my mind, I decide to shower. It can’t hurt to at least use this.

I close the door gently, and slowly strip out of my clothes. More often than not, we have Bill outside our door when we shower. Now, it’s just me, and my pretty products. I open the one with my number on it, and I pluck out the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. I pop the top on the shampoo, and breathe it in. A small smile appears on my lips as I take in the vanilla scent.

I quickly undress, excited about having nice things. I turn the water onto warm, and step in. I wet my hair quickly, and then I fill my palm with shampoo and lather it in. I close my eyes in sigh as I feel the bubbles beneath my fingers. I rinse it out and do it again for good measure, and then I cover it in conditioner and leave it in while I wash my body with the wash that smells like strawberries.

By the time I get out of the shower, I feel refreshed and new. I also feel strangely calm. I rub my fingers over my arms, and then I pick a fresh set of clothes from the folded pile by the basin. I take the brush from the pack, and run it through my locks before putting it down, and filling my palm with moisturizer. I smooth it over my skin, closing my eyes and enjoying the moment.

I don’t care if this is a trick.

It feels so nice. I could do it over and over again.

When I’m done, I walk back out. The girls look up at me, and Number Twelve smiles. I nod at her, encouraging her to take the same moment I just did. She stands quickly and rushes into the bathroom. We’re like small children on Christmas. You don’t realize how important life’s little luxuries are until you’re starved of them.

“I saw the other groups going past, they said they’re going to the library,” Number Seven says, still sitting on her bed.

“Do you want go, too?”

She nods. “I’ll shower first.”

“I’ll see you there?”

“Do you think we’re making a mistake accepting this?”

I shrug my shoulders. “I honestly don’t know, but isn’t it worth feeling like this...even just for a second?”

Her eyes light up a little, and she nods.

“I’ll meet you there.”

I flash her one last smile, and walk out and down the halls. I find the other girls in the library, just standing and staring at the mass amounts of books lining the walls on dark wooden shelves. I can see they’re unsure, not really wanting to touch or do the wrong thing. No one is willing to be the first person to take that leap.

“Girls.”

We all turn to see three guards at the door.

“It’s okay,” they say. “Please read what you want.”

I realize no one is going to move so, taking a deep breath, I take a shaky step forward. I walk over to the shelves, and I reach up, taking the first book I see. It’s an old historic war book, but it looks like it might have a romantic element. The other girls watch me, their eyes still wary. When I take a seat on one of the soft couches, they slowly begin moving towards the shelves.

I read for three hours, just taking in the words, and enjoying the fact that I am allowed to do this. When I’ve tired of reading, I stand and walk out into the hall and make my way towards the large living area. There are six girls in here, and one of them is Number Twelve. She waves me over when I enter, and I tuck myself into a spot beside her.

They’re watching a movie about a rich girl and a poor boy falling in love, but their parents forbid their relationship.

“What’s this called?” I whisper to Number Twelve.

“It’s called
The Notebook.
”

I settle back into the couch and watch the movie right to the end. I decide it is definitely something I will put on my list of favorites.

“It’s time for dinner now, girls.”

We all stand when we hear Bill’s voice, and slowly, we all make our way back to our rooms, feeling refreshed and oddly content. Our dinner is already waiting for us by the time we get back, and we all go over quickly and take our seats. I lift the lid to my tray, and feel a big smile creep across my face. On the plate are a burger, and a pile of fries. Next to it, instead of milk, there is soda.

The other girls are smiling too when I glance at them.

I lift the burger with my hands, and bring it up to my mouth. I catch a smell, and my stomach rumbles. Yum. I take a bite, and the combination of beef, cheese, and sauce dance about on my taste buds. I eat a couple of fries, and that just completes the pleasurable experience. It tastes so good. I don’t ever remember food tasting this good.

By the time I’m done, I’m looking around for more. I could eat those every day. I cover my tray back up, and then pop into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I pull my long hair over my shoulder and plait it, relishing in the soft feel of it as my fingers run through the long locks. I nearly skip out of the bathroom. I haven’t felt so at ease since I’ve been here.

“If you continue to behave, this will occur more and more,” Bill says, coming in to collect our trays. “Goodnight, girls.”

I crawl into my bed, and I feel the warmth invading me once more.

They drugged the soda.

I sigh, and my eyes flutter closed.

Of course they did.

F
ire.

It’s like fire. I can feel it eating into my flesh. It’s burning every layer of skin as it moves down my skin, trickling onto my ear like an acidic snake. My own screams do nothing to erase or ease the pain. My vision blurs, and I’m sure I can hear a bubbling sound. Is that my eye? Is that the chemical devouring my skin?

I jerk upright, reaching up and grasping at the skin around my eye. My vision is wavering, and panic is seizing me. It takes a moment for me to realize I’m not being burned again, and that I’m safe. I run my fingertips over the bumpy flesh around my dead eye, and I sigh deeply, trying to steady my pounding heart.

Another nightmare.