Bloom: A Dark Romance (The Order, 1) Page 5
The door to the right was what I was looking for, and the handle slid easily in my fist as I entered. I almost gasped at the sight that greeted me. I had expected a small space with barely enough room to turn around, but this was far, far beyond that. Plush tan carpet met my beat up sneakers and for a moment, I had to stop myself from kicking them off to feel how soft it was in just my socks. A flip of the switch by the door and light flooded the entire expanse of the room, showing just how large it really was. There was a large Jacuzzi tub as well as a stand-up shower made of glass, an assortment of products laid out like little soldiers on the sink, which was a length of grey marble trimmed in gold—no doubt real. The faucet, doorknobs, and even the rack from which the towels hung were also in gold. The walls were painted a teal green I supposed was meant to be calming. Above the sink was the most enormous mirror I had ever seen outlined in bright bulbs like it was waiting for some movie star instead of a slave girl disguised as a companion. I didn’t want to, but before I could stop myself, I was staring at my reflection—it was, after all, what I had come here to do in the first place.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had looked in a mirror. The Compounds always gave the real prospects—ones that I used to be like—modest rooms filled with pretty things and lots of mirrors to practice their makeup. A lot of them prided themselves copying what the cosmetologist taught them in applying the colorful chemicals to their skin. Girls barely old enough to sit in a chair without their feet hanging off looked like they were far older. This was the appearance most of the Suitors preferred. A mask to assure them that everything they were doing was safely hidden underneath until they could strip their adorned little flower of all her petals.
My hair was as dark as I remembered, a warm, almost auburn shade of black. That was the one physical thing about me that I allowed myself to acknowledge as beautiful. It was the first thing I looked at whenever I caught my reflection in another girl’s compact mirror or a shiny tray of food I wasn’t allowed to eat. In the right light, some strands would glint red. As a child, I imagined it was fire swimming beneath the ashes, ready to rise whenever I most needed it.
The lights in the bathroom were too bright; they washed away any hint of fire.
I moved on to my eyes, noting the slight dark circles lining them, but the color remained the same brown I remembered. I hated my eyes maybe even more than my burn scars. They were the first things someone saw when they looked at my file and they were the first things any Suitor complemented me on. They were large, innocent. Two beacons begging I be purchased and owned. In the past, they would draw them in, the only thing stopping the process being my tainted flesh. Reminders that I had belonged to another and was soiled in some way.
Until now, I had thought I would live out my days at the Compound in my little basement room, sleeping on my cot, preparing meals in the kitchen and cleaning toilets. I had always been told I was no longer worthy, and I had made the mistake of believing no one would want me again.
Moving on, I found the bandage on my throat and tore it off, seeing that what I had previously glimpsed as a gnarled mass of skin and thread was now a neatly wrapped gift of blue stitches. Indeed, it would be a pretty scar one day. Once I replaced the bandage, I moved my shirt to the side so I could look at where my new tracking device called home. Unlike the old one, where there was an obvious lump and it was constantly irritated from the moment it was inserted, this was nearly undetectable. There was only a small bruise where the needle had pierced the skin. Other than that, there was no protrusion, no itchiness or discomfort. If I concentrated hard enough, I could forget it was there altogether.
There was a sudden knock on the door that made me jump. “Miss,” said the boy’s muffled voice. “Our sensors indicated you entered the washroom fifteen minutes ago. Are you sick?”
I supposed that was all I needed to remember I was constantly being watched, each movement tracked. I had to clear my throat. Of course there were sensors. Everything I did was measured, whether by spy or machine.
“I’m fine,” I croaked. “Just washing up before dinner,” I said in a more even tone. I turned toward the door. There was no point in looking for anything to rip out the tracker now. There were most likely cameras recording everything, feeding my whereabouts to my new Owner as he sat enjoying a cocktail and a smoke in his private quarters. I would have to think of something else once we landed.
When I opened the door, the boy was waiting for me in the lounge where my food was quickly becoming cold. I sat in my previous spot in front of the coffee table and started to eat without comment. The boy busied himself dusting non-existent dust from each surface and repositioning the books on the shelf, returning the ones I had read. It seemed he was trying to stay in the room as long as he could, looking for any excuse he could find.
Finally, when it seemed he couldn’t find something with which to occupy himself, he turned as if to leave, giving me a curt grin.
I set my silverware down and stared directly at him, which seemed to catch him off guard; he took half a step back. “Miss?”
I nodded so he would continue.
“Is it true that you’re the one…?” He looked like he was searching for words, wringing his fingers in front of him yet still trying to keep up his professional façade. “That you’re the one who ran from Master Jäger of House Wolf?”
I blinked a few times, aware what he was asking so much more. Master Jäger was one of the Vultures, well known in all circles. I had been one of the girls he had wanted since I came to the Compound, and everyone had watched our early interactions as if we were already betrothed. Most Suitors bought what they thought they would like from the pictures, a meeting or two between before transfer. Master Jäger took extra time with me, making me believe he was a kind man, spending time with me, bringing me ice cream or dollies and stuffed animals. He was a regular at the Compound visiting area, and well liked before I had run. Before I had destroyed his face as much as my own body.
I had never thought I could possibly be as well-known as him, yet here we were, talking about my past and the monster that lurked in its shadow.
I took my time wiping the corner of my mouth with the napkin. “Yes.”
He released a breath so large he could have been holding it from the moment of takeoff. “Oh,” he whispered as if I was a famous prophet come to deliver him home. He nodded to himself, satisfied. “We’ll be landing early tomorrow morning,” he informed me, glancing at the clock above the couch as an afterthought. “Your bed has been turned down and there are quite comfortable bed clothes for you to wear as well.” He smiled the first genuine smile I had seen on him before he turned toward his exit once more. “If you need anything at all, there is an intercom in your room near the door. I would be happy to provide you with anything you require.”
The last part of the sentence sounded much like the first time he said it when I woke up. However, he couldn’t hide how his demeanor had become slightly more relaxed now that he knew who I was. It was hard for me not to become more relaxed as well; he was on my side, just too young and afraid to fight. I hoped one day he would gather enough courage and knowledge to do it and do it the smart way. I knew virtually nothing about this boy, yet I wanted him to succeed.
“Thank you,” I said in the most sincere tone I could manage. However, I was still aware that we were most likely being watched, so I kept up my frigid exterior. It had taken years of practice, trial, and error to learn how to say a thousand words with the few I was often afforded. I may have hated my eyes more than any other physical attribute I possessed, but I had learned to control them, make them say more than what I was allowed.
Thankfully, he seemed to understand, because he gave me a knowing grin, his own eyes relaying a message. “Sleep well,” he said, picking up my empty tray from the coffee table. “Do try to be more careful with this one, yeah?”
At first, I didn’t understand what he was talking about and I searched the glass tabletop, fearing I
had scratched it or spilled some food onto its surface. I didn’t get to ask what he meant before he vanished through the door, but I didn’t have to. I knew what he was talking about: my new Owner.
He didn’t want me to hurt Monsieur Lyon the way I had hurt Master Jäger. Or was he joking, making light of a dreadful situation? Perhaps he even meant not to get caught during my escape this time.
I knew there was only one promise out of all of them that I could keep.
As I stood, deciding to head to the room down the hall and taking a copy of Animal Farm from the shelf with me, I resolved that the boy, in fact, was too young. He still believed these people who had been in power for centuries would simply give it all up when the right person or people convinced them that what they were doing was wrong. The thing was, they knew what they were doing, that what they desired and attained were wrong. They either didn’t care or thought they were entitled to these things because of status and after years of preaching the same poison that had filtered its way through every branch of this dying tree we were a part of. No matter how many pretty flowers bloomed, they couldn’t truly hide that inside it was a rotting trunk. It couldn’t live forever, and I was determined to float away on the wind before it fell and crushed us all.
The room was immaculate and ostentatious—I didn’t expect anything less after seeing the bathroom and spending the better part of my day in the living quarters. I supposed the room was meant to look modern and cozy. Much like the bathroom, it was painted in a fainter sea foam green. Everything else was off white or gold, too gaudy and bright for my tastes but probably just the right amount to impress any other girl in my position. Still, I couldn’t deny that when I took off my shoes, the carpet was warm and inviting. The bed was large enough for three people, too many fluffy pillows and comforters for just me. Hanging beside the bed table was a lavender nightgown too short to cover anything important. It wasn’t that I cared about being naked at this point, but I wasn’t about to parade around in the costume of his choice while he sat in front of a monitor and pleasured himself as he watched me toss and turn.
Instead, I crawled into bed fully clothed except for my shoes, not bothering to fluff the pillows or get under the blankets. I wasn’t planning on letting him watch me sleep either, even if rest had been possible.
The light near the bed had already been turned on, presumably when the boy had turned down the bed, so I had a dim glow by which to read. It was hard to concentrate on the text, but it was one I was familiar with—I had read it many times before in my studies and it was one of the few I enjoyed—so I read for the simple pleasure of the words, not having to force myself to understand anything for once.
FIVE
Morning came in the form of a loud ringing beside my head. It caused me to bolt upright, startled that something was wrong with the great steel behemoth traveling through the atmosphere at break-neck speed. I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep and I couldn’t remember dozing off as I read, but the book lay forgotten on my chest, opened at the middle where I had left off. I didn’t feel drugged—I knew that groggy feeling well enough by now.
The ringing was coming from somewhere to my right, just above my head. Part of my mind registered that it was a telephone—I had seen them used from time to time and knew that some were wired to the house, or in this case, plane, while some were small enough to fit in a pocket.
I picked it up and tried to sound more tired than I was; I didn’t want anyone to think I had been awake for longer, possibly plotting escape. “Hello?”
My voice was raspy. Had I really slept that well? Perhaps it was the knowledge that this would be my last truly free night alone. Thankfully, the person on the other end began to speak before I could think about it further.
“I trust you slept well, Miss,” the boy said.
There was a pause too long for comfort; I was supposed to speak. “Y-yes,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Very good, Miss,” he answered. “I’m just calling to inform you that we are about to land and you should make your way to your seat and buckle up.”
I swallowed, but I might as well have had a mouth full of sand. “O-okay,” I finally replied. “Thank you.”
I waited until I heard him hang up before I did the same. Rubbing the remaining sleep from my eyes, I forced myself to stretch so the rest of my body would become as alert as my mind.
My shoes were where I left them near the bed and I quickly slipped them on before washing my face in the bathroom sink. He hadn’t indicated just how long I had until we landed, but I assumed I didn’t have time to bathe, and even if I did I probably wouldn’t—I could keep my dignity a few hours longer.
When I emerged from the bathroom, there was a tray neatly set up in front of the chair where I had woken up only yesterday. I sat before I could get a good look at it, buckling my seatbelt before I ran out of time. When I finally did glance in front of me, I saw that there was a glass of orange juice, a tiny vase which held a single daffodil, a cloth napkin, and a saucer that held the same antibiotics I had taken the night before.
“Monsieur Lyon thought it best that you have breakfast once you’ve landed.”
I jumped when I saw the boy coming towards me. He was most likely there to make sure I took the pills, so I hurriedly gulped them down with the juice, wiping my mouth with the napkin just so my shaking hands would have something to do.
Once I had set everything back down, the boy moved forward to take everything away, folding up the tray back into the arm of the chair. “Stomach better?” he asked.
I nodded.
He gave me his professional smile. “We land in around twenty minutes,” he said, turning on his heel. “Try to relax until we get there. You can also see a beautiful view of the skyline once the city is visible.” He gestured with his head towards the window to my left, where the shade was thankfully drawn.
I was too tired to formulate a response and fortunately, I didn’t need one; the boy had already made his way back to his own cell.
Twenty minutes. I knew we would be landing soon, but I still thought I would have more time. More time for what, exactly? Falling asleep instead of thinking of ways to escape once the plane touched the ground? I had already wasted a whole day; what was twenty minutes more?
For a moment, I contemplated locking myself in the bathroom. Perhaps take the boy as a hostage until I was set free—maybe I could barter for his freedom as well—but I knew it ultimately wouldn’t work. If this boy knew who I was, so did everyone else aboard this plane. They had no doubt been warned that I would try such tactics and were instructed to keep a safe distance.
Making a run for it once I was outside was foolish; the terminal or tarmac would be swarming with members of the Order to keep up appearances that everything was normal. I supposed I would have to wait until he took me to his house—preferably before I was chained in his own private dungeon, locked in a cage, or worse. Right now, my only choice was to behave and enjoy my last twenty minutes of semi-freedom for the foreseeable future.
I was afraid I would make myself sick, but I opened the shade covering my window anyway. What greeted me was a clear blue sky, the morning sun illuminating the clouds in hues of yellow and pink. My experience with the outside world was limited, but I wondered if I would see more of the sun and sky with this new Owner. Either way, I wanted to absorb the sight of the first sunrise I had seen in years, all the while forcing my face closer to the glass and telling myself that no matter what happened, it would not be my last.
Soon, the clouds became sparser and the pink and yellow gave way to more blue. The city Fox had mentioned quickly came into view: rows of green as if set up in a grid outlined tiny houses and buildings. I had learned from my French lessons what the main landmarks were, so I immediately recognized the Eiffel Tower. It looked so small from this height; I had imagined it would dwarf the plane, yet it seemed as though I could pick it up between my thumb and forefinger and put it in my pocket for safekeeping.
I didn’t have to dwell on it long, as the plane began to tremble and I had to clutch the armrests for fear of falling over even though I was safely strapped in. I tried my best to keep my stomach from rebelling as the shaking continued, closing my eyes as I wished for the movement to stop and the whole thing to crash into the ground and result in my fiery death.
After a few deep breaths, I glanced out the window to see that the buildings had begun to move closer, giving the illusion that they were growing and I was shrinking.
So we were landing. My freedom was over.
***
My legs were traitorous, unstable things when the plane was finally grounded. I had to lean on any surface I could for support. The boy came to collect me, offering a nervous arm for me to use as he guided me forward, towards the door I had only seen him use. We didn’t say anything as he led me through an almost identical sitting area, the doors lined up the same as mine and closed. So this was where Master Lyon had stayed during the flight. A few feet away yet far enough for the illusion of comfort. I wondered how large this plane had to be to house so much inside.
“Monsieur Lyon is outside waiting, Miss,” the boy said as we walked further into the room and down a hall. We stopped when we reached a door at the end. “This is where I leave you,” he said. “You just go down those stairs and you’ll be outside. I caution you not to run. The roads are icy and you’ll get hurt.”