Number Thirteen by Jewel Bella Page A

you?” I say gently.
    “No, he didn’t,” she screams. “He didn’t do anything. I know he’s a monster, I know it because he’s got us here. No one takes girls unless they’re monsters.”
    She could be right. I hope to God she’s wrong, but she could be right.
    “You don’t really want to die, Number Three,” I say in a quiet voice. “If you die, then he’s won. Is that what you really want? How will you ever know where you came from?”
    Her red, puffy eyes turn to mine, and she sniffles. “We’re never getting out of here. Don’t delude yourself.”
    “You don’t know that; you can’t possibly.”
    She shakes her head. “How do you suppose we’ll get out? Gather a bunch of knives and kill all the guards?” She laughs bitterly. “I mean, it’s not like there’s heaps of them or anything.”
    She’s replacing her fear with sarcasm. I get it, I do. Everyone puts a barrier up to protect themselves against reality.
    “We found a way today, and even though I went about it wrong, it was there. That means there’s weaknesses. In our first day, we found one, and I swear it to you, I’ll find another one.”
    There’s a flicker of hope in her gaze before she covers it with a terrified expression.
    “We might never even get out of this basement.”
    “We’ll get out,” Number Seven says, finally speaking. “I don’t believe they’re going to kill us.”
    “How would you know?” Number Twelve whispers. “They killed Number Six.”
    “You don S#8220;’t know that,” I say softly, even though I really don’t believe Number Six is okay.
    Number Twelve stares at me, and then drops her eyes to the floor. “The only way we have a chance here,” she whispers so softly I can barely hear it, “is if we do as we’re told. If we behave badly, we’ll spend our time down here, and we’ll never, ever get the chance to escape.”
    She’s right, and I realize she’s spoken that softly so the cameras can’t pick it up. I nod at her, letting her know I understand and agree. If we spend all our time down here, we’ll never find a way out. The only way to escape is to behave, and be allowed the chance to really take in our surroundings. Shame rises up, heating my cheeks. I was careless earlier, and I shouldn’t have done what I did, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
    I hear the door creak, and my eyes snap up. The lights are suddenly flicked off, and I shudder as the room seems to grow cold. I hear footsteps, and then the door slams closed and we’re sitting in silence. I tilt my head, trying to listen, but I don’t hear anything for the longest moment. Then I feel a presence before me, like someone has crouched down. I even find myself pushing my head forward, to see if I can feel anyone.
    “Your punishment will be carried out now, with the Master present,” a guard says.
    My skin prickles.
    He is here.
    Once again he sits, quietly, not giving us anything. Anger bubbles in my chest, even though I know I should squash it down.
    “Why don’t you carry it out?” I bark. “Why won’t you speak?”
    I rattle my chains, angry at myself for lashing out, and angry at him for acting so...so... crazy.
    A finger suddenly grazes my cheek, and I jerk, almost hissing at the contact. Another hand comes up, and steadies my face while that finger makes little stroking motions on my cheek. My skin prickles, and I clench my jaw tightly, wanting to lash out and beat the hand touching me, but I can’t.
    “ Au răbdare, Beauty. Răbdarea este puterea sufletului,” he murmurs.
    “Speak English,” I cry. “Your trickery won’t work on me.”
    When he speaks to me in English, my entire body seems to melt. His voice is raspy and heavily accented. It’s...mesmerizing and sickeningly beautiful. “I said, have patience, Beauty. Patience is the strength of the soul. I am not here to trick you.”
    “What do you want from me then?” I almost whimper.
    “Your trust,” he says, before his hand