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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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 Posted: Fri Aug 26, 2011 6:41 pm
"Slippers"
Dark mahogany.
The woman standing in front of the fire had made this room as sophisticated and refined as possible, just like her own appearance: long black hair in an elaborate display, long red nails, skin that did not show the wear of time, and a dress that fit a woman far above her station. Yes, the room mirrored this appearance, but the details resembled her heart. Dark. Hard. Strong. She walked not with grace, but with brute strength.
The knock on the door caused her to turn. She put her back to the fire, hiding her face in shadow, and called, "Enter."
Two of her men opened the door and led in a little girl. At first the woman could not see her; her dark skin and dark hair, combined with the black mourning dress, hid her in the shadows of the room. When the girl lifted her face to look around her, the woman nodded appreciatively. Cute, but not yet grown. Her looks would not fade, not even with hard work. She would last it out. Good.
She waved her hand and the men left. She waved her hand again toward a chair and told the child, "Sit."
"I'll stand," said the child.
The woman was surprised. This girl was only eight years old, and the reports had assured complete obedience. But she was in mourning, and that did strange things to a girl. She took the girl by hand and led her to the chair, pushing her down in it. She felt the girl tense in shock, then relax as she accepted the force. Now she knew what she was up against, and resistance was gone.
The woman sat down across from her and folded her hands in her lap, as the girl had done. After a moment where the two sat staring at one another calculatingly, the woman spoke. "I have generously decided to take you into my home," the woman explained. "Though you are not my child, I have taken you under my wing, to raise you and protect you. Therefore, you will call me Stepmother."
The girl said nothing, though confusion lit her face. Stepmother let it pass.
"The House is now your home," she said. "You will earn the bread I feed you and the clothes I give you. So long as you are obedient, unquestioning, and hardworking, you will be taken care of. Do you understand?"
"No." The girl lifted her face a little higher, trying to build courage. "No, I do not understand. Why am I here?"
The reports had said nothing about this dark girl's spirit. Stepmother pressed on, surprised but unmoved. "You are here because your parents are dead." She saw the pain flash across the girl's face; well, the wound was new. "Your parents are dead, and there is no one to take care of you now. Now you must earn what you need to live. That is why you are here. You see, child, I am a woman of business," Stepmother explained, "and my business is girls."
Stepmother continued to explain the nature of the House. Stepmother brought in girls who had no one to care for them, who no one wanted, and put them to work. The girls were not only her unpaid employees and servants, but her livestock and wares as well. Girls were organized by age and skill. Colors held much meaning in this Family. Girls were granted clothes in different colors depending on their specific tasks in this world. "Over time," Stepmother told the child, "I will help you find what skills you posses, and we will find a job for you that will pay well. Our customers have many different tastes; I'm sure we can find something for you."
Customers, "Fellows," worked directly with Stepmother when they wanted to "hire" girls. They would request a girl for a specific task, and she would send them one. Sometimes the girls were hired for a short time, and then sent back. Sometimes the girls stayed longer. Some girls were not sent to the Fellows' homes, but went with Stepmother to perform in shows. These girls were hired by many men, and had a great number of talents. "For your first year, at least, you will not leave the House," Stepmother said. "You will work here instead to earn your keep, and I will teach you."
All through this talk, the child said nothing.
"Ella," said Stepmother, and the girl jerked as though given a shock. "Ella, I hope you are grateful for the home I am giving you."
Ella stood. "If you have no further need of me, Stepmother, I shall leave now. I know where I sleep."
Stepmother glowered at her, annoyed. "I do not think you understand. I am losing money on you by allowing you to stay here and eat my bread. I am offering you the chance to work and live under my roof. I hope you appreciate what I am doing for you."
Ella's dark face bent, and curly hair left its restraints to fold over her brown eyes. "I understand completely, Stepmother. You are using me."
Stepmother stood as well, a tinge of pink in her cheeks finally betraying a bit of anger. "You better be careful, girl, or I will break your spirit."
"No need," said Ella, "I will do it for you." Reaching under her coat collar, she brought forth a gold necklace – a tiny tree, a gift from her mother. Snapping the chain, she flicked her wrist and threw the trinket into the fire.
Stepmother gazed at the flames for a moment, then back at Ella. "I see that you understand your place."
Ella said nothing.
***
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 10:24 am
Summer sent its scorching sun down upon the pavement of the inner city. Desperate to find their way to homes and offices where the air conditioning worked and shades kept out the heat, cars passed by the half-hearted tenants and buildings without a look to either side. Only the children and passengers in back seats with nothing to do noticed the dance studio, the run-down cafe, and the motel, all with some windows boarded up, some doors reinforced, some bricks falling off the walls.
These buildings, though ill-used, were large, and hid the other tenants behind them from the view of the passer-bys with ease. Therefore, it was the summer breeze that slid over the motel, wove around the cafe, and skipped over the dance studio, to fall gently upon an iron fire escape and gaze into the dusty window. Summer breeze floated for a minute there, and little Ella looked back out at him, before he skipped away again and left her alone with her rags and her empty eyes.
If Ella concentrated very, very hard, she could remember a time years ago when she could feel that summer breeze. It was strenuous work to dig back up the memories of sunny skies, grassy fields, a mother's smiling face and a father's laughing beard. In her memories, she picked wildflowers and blooming weeds, and went skipping back, expecting her father to pick her up and her mother to fawn over her. Inevitably the memory would here be drowned out by the screech of brakes, a brilliant flash of light and her own screams as her father's and mother's coffins were closed and nailed shut.
It took less concentration to remember the day soon after that when the men had arrived, informing her that "We're going to take you to your new home now." At first she had not cared; nothing mattered anymore now that mother and father were mere memories. But when the car had pulled into the garage of the brick building the next day and she had been taken to the large, strong woman with the long nails, Ella had the strong instinctive feeling that something was not right. She wasn't supposed to be here, that much she knew. She had nowhere to go, but nowhere was better than here.
Ella was one of hundreds who had been escorted here in the same manner. Hundreds of girls, some who didn't speak English, girls of every skin color and hair color and background, all under the age of twenty, most under the age of ten. These girls were part of the Family, slaves that worked for the Stepmother as she commanded, each in her own way.
At eight years old, Ella was put to the task of helping the other girls her age clean the Home. Scrubbing, mopping, sweeping, vacuuming, dusting, wiping, washing, pounding, and tying filled her hours from dawn until dusk. This year was also spent beginning her education, teaching her the ways of Stepmother's house. Her clothes then were black. Some girls wore black their whole lives, and Fellows "hired" them as maids. Though, as Ella learned as maids were rotated in and out of the House, a maid that could be hired to clean and serve a Master could just as easily be hired to complete other tasks.
After a year Ella had learned obedience and servitude, and her beauty was already beginning to peer around the corner. Stepmother exchanged her black clothes for pink ones; black was for Maids, pink was for Teasers, she was told. Working as a Teaser, she left the House for the first time in a year, frequently being driven by night in the black car to a strange place where she and the other girls in pink were told to dance in front of men who smoked and drank and sometimes cried out things she didn't understand. She wore pink until she was fifteen, when she was given clothes of blue and the title Warm Up. As a Warm Up, she first learned things she wished she'd never learned, saw things she never wanted to see, did things that made her vomit at night when they were returned to the House and told to sleep.
By then, she had stopped keeping track of time, and did not know how old she was when she was given a dress of yellow. But she remembered the first night, the first Fellow, and what he put her through. And she remembered every Fellow after that.
Colors meant a great deal; red was for Fetishes, orange was for Fantasies, unfortunate green was for Coarse, Tough, Rough dealings. Dressed in yellow, Ella was fortunate; yellow meant Gentle. But she never felt anything Gentle about it, no matter how many nights she spent being hired.
"Clumsy girl!"
Ella's head snapped up, then sank back down again. A girl in vivid orange was pulling the hair of a young girl in pink, who had evidently spilled mascara on the older girl's dress. The orange girl screeched and screamed, until the pink girl broke away and ran like a rabbit away from the room, the orange girl chasing her like a hound. Ella did not see where the two girls went, nor did she listen to the screams of anger. She knew the girl in orange; one wrong look, and you'd be eating bread and water for weeks. Such was the power of a Stepsister.
Other things ranked the girls besides colors. Those of the greatest skill were fortunate enough to achieve the title of Stepsister. Stepsisters were several cuts above the other girls in the Family. Unlike Ella, they did not have to spend their spare time scrubbing or cleaning. They were allowed the nicest rooms, and some even had rooms of their own, without having to share beds. They dressed in the nicest dresses, not in other girl's hand-me-downs, and had the fewest (and richest) Fellows. Most importantly, the other girls were expected to serve them as they would the Stepmother.
The pretty Stepsisters were not hard to serve. They usually called up a girl to assist in putting up their hair, applying makeup, fixing a costume, or clean the room. The ugly Stepsisters, however, were a different matter. Rumor was that these girls were the Stepmother's actual daughters from the times where the Stepmother entertained a Fellow herself. These girls were held as the Stepmother's favorites, it was rumored, for being her daughters and not for being skilled with clients. Perhaps they felt the rumors flying around about them, because they retaliated in the most stupid way: making everyone hate them even more. If you pulled one knot of hair to sharply, sewed a button onto their dress too loosely, swept their room too fussily and put dust in the air, put one toe out of line, and a single scream would send the Stepmother speeding after you like an avenging angel.
Ella knew she had no chance of being a Stepsister. Stepsisters always had fair skin, blue eyes, shiny hair. With her dark complexion, brown eyes, and curly mop, she had no hope to achieve this special treatment. Usually she didn't mind. During certain times of the year, a Stepsister could find herself entertaining two to three Fellows a night. At least at her current status as a Yellow, and a performer, Ella was only expected to dance for an audience and entertain one Fellow once in a while. But on the days where she wished she could snap her fingers and have someone else scrub the windows, all it took was for one Stepsister to screech and tear at another girl's hair, and a cool, icy feeling would swell over her. She would never lower her standards to enter those ranks.
Of all the things she could do to survive in this world, abuse the other girls was one thing Ella would never do. That was not to say that she did anything else with them. From the moment she had stepped through these doors, Ella's one and only concern was her own survival. It was not difficult to achieve. Food was given in healthy amounts; perhaps not the most appetizing diet, but the girls never hungered. Clothing kept them warm, though constantly reminded them of what they were required to do. They bathed frequently and were kept in the utmost health. Not much comfort, Ella thought wryly as she wrung out her washrag and prepared to scrub a stain on the floor, as being healthy was what kept them among the "good stock."
No, Ella thought as she wiped the rag across the floor, the need for survival came in other, harder to find ways. While her physical needs were met, it was her mental needs that were neglected. The need for laughter like her father's, smiles like her mother's, and – most importantly – privacy. She was so desperate for privacy. But in the House, girls shared rooms, bathrooms, even showers and baths. Some even had to share clothes. Outside of the House, privacy was as attainable as a pet unicorn once you stepped into a Fellow's room. Surrounded day by day by the world, Ella felt it was maddening, and the only way she could find privacy was to simply not exist in the same realm of mind as others.
Ignoring girls was easy, as one rainy day showed. A girl had just come home from her first trip out of the House. The black car rolled in and the garage door opened and she came tearing through the House, tears streaming down her eyes, dress shredded and giant bruises coloring her face. The poor girl was dressed in green.
Ella shared a room with her, but didn't know her name. She had come in, slamming the door behind her, and ran bawling to the fireplace, where she threw herself on the floor and wept hysterically. Some girls looked uncomfortable, but Ella simply ignored her, tending to her mending in the corner.
One girl, however, swept over to the girl in green and picked her up off the floor. This girl wore red, which was just as unfortunate a color, but which looked fiery and exotic with her black hair and dark smoky eyes. The red girl cradled the green girl as she walked her over to the bed the green girl shared, cooing and soothing and telling her "Next time he'll be less rough." When the girl had calmed down the red girl helped her change out of her ruined green dress and put her to sleep, telling her to bathe tomorrow morning, she wouldn't have to go anywhere tomorrow, not with those bruises.
Most girls had found excuses to leave the room, but Ella stayed in her corner, her mending and sewing slowing to a gradual stop, as she watched the red girl nurse the green girl. When the green girl was asleep the red girl raised her face and turned to Ella. "Her name is Clemencia, you know," she informed Ella. "It means gentle... and merciful."
Ella said nothing.
The girl in red came over and sat opposite Ella. "Why didn't you help her?" she asked.
Ella felt defensive. "There were other girls near her," she stated.
"True," said the red girl, "but none of them wanted to help. You stayed. So why didn't you help?"
Ella found that looking at the other girl's eyes made her feel exposed, so she focused on her mending. "She's none of my concern," she stated, finally. "I don't have to care for her. In this place, you just have to take care of yourself."
The girl in red laughed, causing Ella to jump. "And you won't look at me. You don't really believe what you're saying!"
"Yes, I do!" Ella had declared hotly, feeling the need to prove her point. "Here it's a world where the weak get torn apart, like her. I won't let myself be torn apart, so I'll become stronger."
The girl's face changed drastically. Gravely, she shook her head. "You're making the same mistake as so many others," she said. "You think that your survival depends on walling yourself in away from the world. You think that being touched will hurt you, so you won't let anyone near your heart."
Ella wanted to say nothing, but the girl was touching a sore spot. "It's what's best to prevent a broken heart."
"No, Ella."
"How do you –"
"Think, Ella," the girl said, almost frantically. "Think! What breaks, a piece of cloth, or a rock?"
"I – well –"
"A rock can be broken, even blown to bits," said the girl. "But a piece of cloth will not be harmed by chisel or by explosives."
"It can be torn!"
"True, but if the cloth is well made, you must have a truly sharp pair of scissors to start the tear," said the girl. "Ella, to survive, you can't have a heart of stone. You'll endanger your very self. To survive, you need a heart of cloth."
"That doesn't make sense."
"You must expand your heart to enclose all around you, not push them away," said the girl. "It is easier to survive when with others than when on your own. You must learn to love."
"I loved once. I loved my mother and father," Ella said. "They are dead; I have no one to love."
"That's not true," said the girl, smiling again. "You have more people to love than ever. You have all the girls, me and Clemencia. And you must love your captors."
"What?"
"You must love Stepmother and the Stepsisters," the girl insisted.
"I can't love them," Ella said, shocked. "I can't."
"You must," the girl insisted. "Hating them will make you cold and hard and with no hope or joy in your life. Love them, forgive them for what they do to you, and you can look forward every day."
Ella said nothing. But she looked down at her mending and thought. Finally, she asked, "And you love them? You love the Stepmother for sending you to the Fellows?"
"Not for it," the girl said, and distaste colored her face. "No, you shouldn't have to love what they do to you. That's asking for complete idiocy and self-disgust. No, I love the Stepmother, and wish no harm on her. But I do not love... this."
It was an idea Ella had never considered, and she wasn't ready to adopt it. But it could be thought on. She reached for her neck, for the little necklace and charm tree, but remembered where it was – in Stepmother's fire – and put her hand down. "What's your name?" she asked the red girl.
"Margot," she had replied. "But Stepmother calls me Esmerelda."
Stepmother calls me...
Ella put her washrag in the bucket of water, stood up, and hefted the water over to the window. Opening it, she found the gutter, which emptied into a barrel near the ground. As she poured the dirty water into the gutter, she thought wryly about what Stepmother called the girls. Certain girls with certain colors – pink, blue – went by their names, their real names. But the others, the girls who performed for crowds and then privately, had stage names. Names were decided upon by Stepmother, and were required to be nothing short of tempting, seductive, sexy. Names could be based on appearance, on a girl's personality, or even on the random opening of a book.
Ella remembered when she had received her yellow dress and had been called back to Stepmother's study. Stepmother had nodded her head approvingly at the dress. "It looks good on you. You are very lovely."
Ella, of course, did not reply.
"You will be a performer as well as a, ah, player," said Stepmother. "You've shown excellent abilities at dancing. You are very... light on your feet. I would like you to progress. So, it is time for a stage name."
She stepped closer to Ella, walking around her, looking her up and down, one finger on her chin in thought. Finally, she faced Ella, toes touching toes, and she brushed one finger lightly on Ella's cheek. "Skin as black as cinders," she whispered. Her voice had adopted a seductive tone, and her hips swiveled to accentuate each syllable. "Cin-der-ell-a! I like it."
Ella's voice hissed between her lips. "My name, is Ella."
Stepmother frowned. Immediately she was at her desk, writing the name down. "That's your stage name. Now go practice with the other girls in the dance hall; I want you to learn to waltz."
"Ella!"
Ella looked up and realized she had been staring out of the window, lost in thought. Quickly she closed the window and set the empty bucket down. She looked around, hoping it was not a Stepsister who had caught her, then sighed with relief. "Yeah, Jessie?"
Jessie and Ella shared a bed together, and often performed in the same events. The brown-haired girl in yellow – how she despised the color yellow – was standing in the doorway, gesturing over her shoulder with a thumb. "Time to get ready."
Ella's shoulders slumped. "Already?"
"Not my fault you took so long with the scrubbing," Jessie said, shrugging. "You can catch a nap in the car on the way there. Come on."
Ella put her rag and bucket away, then trudged up to her room. Girls were already getting ready, throwing last-minute supplies into bags and checking to be sure their faces were clean. Ella noticed a bag on her side of the bed and unzipped it a few inches. She looked inside and groaned. "Is this our costume?"
"That's it, and you better act like you enjoy wearing it," a girl advised, rummaging through a drawer for a brush.
Ella rezipped the bag; there would be a room to change in when they arrived at their "host." For now, it was time to be sure that all the little details were in order. She glanced in the mirror, inspected her hands, and finally turned to the closet. When the other girls were out of the way, she opened the door, reached behind all the yellow dresses, and carefully pulled out a pair of glass shoes.
***
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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 10:26 am
A short ride in a black car with tinted windows, and Ella found herself in another hall. This was going to be a big event; Stepmother's big promoting exercise of the year. Old and new customers were invited to attend, to admire the best of the wares and decide whether or not to keep their business with her – and to enjoy themselves to the utmost, of course.
The festival was three days long, and each evening had four parts. The first part was a demonstration or performance by the girls. Each one was announced with her stage name, and each had a chance to show off as an individual before they performed as a group. The second was a dance session; the girls danced with the customers so that they could be inspected up close. The third was dinner, and each girl's preferred time of the evening. The fourth took place upstairs.
In the large dressing room the girls rushed to prepare themselves, dressing, fixing their hair, and applying makeup, often with each other's assistance, completely in silence. Ella was appalled by tonight's costume: a play off the old-fashioned ball gown. The skirt was ridiculously large, and petticoats underneath gave it an absurd amount of – there was no other word for it – poofiness, but there the similarity to a princess gown ended, as everything above the tiny waist was displayed in as little cloth as possible. Ella felt like a princess with too much time and not enough clothing on her hands.
But she wore the dress, and her glass shoes as well. To complete the costume, she attached a mask to her face by tying it firmly into her hair with ribbons. Today's event was a masque ball, and even the Fellows would hide their faces. That way, customers wouldn't have to shamefully admit to other customers that they were attending. It would be awkward if two wealthy men who recognized each other ran into each other here. Finished, she stood in line with the other girls and waited to be called out onto the stage. Each girl knew her part by heart, yet there was still a feeling of nervousness in the air – what if one of them was to fail in her job? What would the consequences be for all of them?
The show started without warning; it was an almost lazy event, a luxurious attending designed for the rich, who never liked their entertainment to start with big bangs. Stepmother gave a little speech thanking them for attending, and simply began the show. The line shortened as girls were called out one by one.
When Ella was called, she put on her best face, remembered she had a mask on, but kept it up anyway. Her stride changed from the step of a working girl to that of a woman among women. She swerved her hips, which, she had to admit, had a significant effect on the skirts, picking them up to reveal the glass slippers and the elegant ankles extending above them. She tilted her head every few minutes to show another aspect of her profile. And she behaved accordingly as one of the Stepsisters did commentary.
"Thank you, Seraphina! And now, coming onto the stage is Cinderella! Dressed head to toe in yellow, she's the perfect girl for any sensitive fellow! She can dance, she can sing, but she is also an esteemed member of the Glass Slippers! Go on, Cinderella, shoe those toes! Looking at her twirl, doesn't it make you want to sweep her into your arms? Give us a twirl, Cinderella!"
Ella finally walked offstage, quickly taking advantage of a near-empty dressing room to sit down. One thing you learned when wearing glass shoes; whenever possible, do NOT remain standing. She sat as the rest of the girls went out to strut, then stood again to take her place in a new line. Now, it was time for group performances.
Ella took place in two. The first was to portray the girls in yellow. A different Stepsister did the commentary for this one. "Yellow is Gentle, and you will find no girls more gentle and tender than these lovely women. See how elegantly and softly they dance! Why, they could go on long into the night!" The men chuckled, the music played on, and Ella danced in a swaying, Gentle fashion, with her softest facial expression hidden behind her mask, and her disgust hidden even deeper.
The second group Ella was a part of was the Glass Slippers. There were only six in their group, as Stepmother explained: "Walking on glass takes much more than a tiny waist and a mindset of mind over matter. To walk on shoes of glass, you must be otherworldy, so beautiful in an airy and fairy way! When these girls don their glass slippers, you would almost believe that they are not human! They are almost spirits of the air and sky, sent to charm you with their magics! For how else could they walk on glass?"
The different groups were finished being portrayed, and the dancing began.
Ella was whirled from partner to partner. Most didn't require her to speak; many soon exchanged her for another. She felt like a yard of silk, being handed over from merchant to merchant, each trying to decide what bolt best suited their tastes. Some found her to be of the highest quality; some only danced with her so that they could exchange her for another they had their eyes on. In the end, so long as her waltz was spotless and her face remained intent upon theirs, she stopped paying attention, even though she had been trained to spot the dancers who asked for her frequently and to evaluate what kind of entertainment they might wish for.
Dancing lasted for at least two hours before it was finally – finally – dinner time. Ella had not eaten since eleven, and it was now at least eight in the evening; thoughts of food overwhelmed any other feeling for the time being, so for a while she could pretend that she did not have to advertise herself here.
Of course, in reality, dining was just as important as the displays and dancing were. Seating was arranged by Stepmother; she spaced her girls out along the table and arranged for each one's most likely admirers to sit near her. Stepsisters, of course, had the best seats, but all girls felt like princesses at this meal. It would never do for the girls to eat food of less quality then the men; eating caviar and watching your potential girl of the night eating bread and water ruined the atmosphere. Although the girls did get the smallest portions, for this event the girls were privileged enough to eat some of the finest foods. While girls ate, they were instructed to flirt, each expressing her own personality and strengths, but Ella spent most of her attention on her stomach.
As each girl finished eating, she was likely to be asked out onto the dance hall again. Ella was no exception, barely having time to savor dessert before being asked to dance by a balding red-faced man. But this dancing session only lasted for about half an hour – long enough for the girls to digest. After all, one shouldn't do athletic activities on a full stomach.
The signal was given by the deep ringing of bells, and Stepmother stepped onto the stage. The girls immediately melted back into the shadows; the men did not notice their absence, not a bit, as they reverted their gaze to Stepmother's display. The auction was beginning.
This part disgusted Ella more than the rest of the evening. All the Fellows who were in attendance were guaranteed a girl, of course, but the richest Fellows often enjoyed the sport of bidding. That way they were more likely to have what girl they wanted. This only applied to Stepsisters; ordinary girls like Ella weren't quite good enough to be worth extra money. Behind Stepmother, a screen displayed a slideshow of the current "item" for sale as she described the girl. Ella heard a snatch of it and saw a few pictures as she slipped away: "I can personally guarantee that Susannah is the greatest delight you will ever have! Doesn't she just look ravenous in the black string bikini? She looks even better when you untie the strings! Now, do I hear five hundred?"
The girls were silent and solemn faced as they made their way back to the dressing room. Some girls removed gloves and jewelry, trinkets they were privileged enough to wear for presentation but that would only be in the way during the job. Ella never wore any ornamentation, so she simply stood in place for a little while until all the girls were settled. Far away the sounds of men's laughter rumbled darkly, faded, and silenced. Ten minutes of this silence passed, then the bells rang again, and a Stepsister in red stepped at the head of the herd. She looked as white-faced as they did as she whispered, "Time to go."
And the girls went Upstairs.
Ella had been to this annual event of Stepmother's three times before; this was her fourth time going Upstairs. "Upstairs" was hallways and hallways of rooms, all in dark midnight blue, with luxurious furnishings and heavy curtains that blocked out everything except romantic moonlight, if the Fellow so desired to have some. Upstairs was rooms where individual men sat waiting, on chairs and couches and beds, behind heavy curtains, behind doors that opened silently and softly and blocked all noise. Upstairs was rooms full of hours of promised pleasure for a price, and each girl was assigned a room based on the request of the Fellows. Upstairs was the heart and soul of the functioning of the House.
Ella went upstairs with the other girls, lifting her skirts so that she wouldn't trip and break her glass slippers. The girls were silent, because silence was mandatory. Some girls dressed in green were trying to put on brave faces, exchanging uneasy and almost hysterical smiles with the girls in red. Some of the youngest ones were trying not to cry. Ella watched the youngest of all of them wringing her hands, gazing about her with begging eyes. Ella said nothing.
They finished climbing the stairs, and the girls split ways, given silent directions by Stepsisters. Ella was pointed to the right and shown five fingers; she turned right and walked down five doors. Then she stood, staring at the woodwork, until the rustle of skirts was silenced.
After some minutes, bells rang, and as one, every girl opened her door.
***
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 10:27 am
The space between the door and the curtain veiling her Fellow was a refuge for Ella, where she regrouped herself. She couldn't afford to let her emotions of disgust and despair show, but it wasn't good business to be cold and lifeless either. In the space between Stepmother and Fellow, Ella was able to revive some feeling, and sort the feelings through. It was three steps to the curtain, and in that short amount of time she was able to transform from a servant into a princess, awaiting seduction. She reached forward, lifted the edge of the curtain, and brought it to one side to reveal her Fellow.
He took her by surprise. Young, for a Fellow, no older than late twenties or early thirties. He wore a modest suit and was wringing a cap in his hands anxiously. His skin was tan and hair sandy blonde, bringing to mind an old memory of beaches and sunshine that she had almost forgotten. His eyes were a furtive dusty blue when he looked up at her, startled. But what made him the most unusual of all was that when she stepped into the room, he stood and extended a hand. "Erm, evening, I'm Chase."
Okay, Ella thought, So this is his first time. Maybe a son of a previous Fellow trying to be a man himself.
She smiled prettily and curtseyed in the manner Stepmother had taught her – bending low so that wandering eyes were encouraged to look down her bodice. "Of course it is, Chase. And I am here to fulfill your deepest desires." He looked like he needed further prodding, so she added, "Only tell me what to do."
He looked uncertain, than reached inside his coat. He pulled out what looked like a wallet, opened it, and showed the inside to her. She straightened and found herself looking at a badge. "I'd appreciate just your cooperation," Chase said, a little more steadily.
Ella's smile disappeared. Wordlessly, she held out her hand, and Chase put the badge into it. Inspecting it, she read the words police, investigations, undercover. She had seen badges before, when other Fellows had games to play, but this badge was different, felt and looked different. There was an ID card with it as well, which the other Fellows never had. This almost felt... real.
She looked up with a furrowed brow, and decided to risk asking a question. "... If you wanted Roleplay, sir, you should have asked for a girl in a purple dress. She would be a better actress –"
"It's not a roleplay," Chase said, flushing, and he took his badge back. "This is real. I'm an undercover cop and I would greatly appreciate your cooperation."
Snake.
Stepmother had warned them about Snakes, men who wormed and squirmed and wriggled their way into her business, sticking their tongues out for hints about her dealings. She had told them about how they wanted to find out about the House so they could dismantle it and take the girls. Ella wasn't sure about what for; Stepmother never said if it was to use them for even worse things, or to dispose of them. All Ella knew was that Snakes felt that the House was a place of the girls' sins, not of Stepmother's charity and profit, and that Snakes were ruthless when trying to ruin them. They were not to be trusted.
She also knew that there were thousands of measures taken to prevent their entry. So the fact that he had gotten in meant either he was very clever, very dangerous, or both. Perhaps it was the lack of interaction outside of the bedsheets, or perhaps it was the adrenaline rush from fear, but she decided to challenge him. "What do you want from me?" she asked.
"Not your... flesh, if that's what you mean," he said, and he seemed awkward again.
She decided to test him. Turning around, she watched him carefully over one shoulder and dropped the top of her dress.
He turned vivid scarlet, whirled around, and covered his face with his hands. "HEY! I told you I don't want that!" he said, sounding extremely uncomfortable.
Well, if he reacted that way to just seeing her bare back, then perhaps he really didn't want to see the rest. She put her dress back on and turned around. "All right. So you're not a regular customer. How'd you get in here? I thought there were all sorts of security against you."
"Oh, trust me," Chase said ruefully, "I know all about her security. You think I just decided to saunter in here? Tonight is the result of six years of hard work. This brothel's been the hardest one to crack."
Ella didn't know what a brothel was, but she ignored the word. "Sounds like you're putting in a lot of effort," she said. "What's your goal?"
Chase looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, as though he was as wary of her as she was of him. "Whether you like it or not, this whole operation is illegal. I'm here to get the info we need to shut it down."
Shut it down. Stepmother's grand empire shut down by this surfer kid? And if it was shut down... "Who will take care of us?"
"Huh?"
"If you shut it down. No one wants us. Who will take care of us?"
Chase looked like the answer should be obvious. "When we rescue you, the government will see to it that you're cared for. You'll all have food, clothing, and a warm place to sleep. You and all the girls."
Behind her mask, Ella's eyes widened. So it was possible to survive elsewhere, unwanted or no. Survival had other options than just pleasing her next Fellow. But there was a price. Trusting this Fellow – this Snake – was much less secure than obeying Stepmother. Ella could even step up in the world by reporting him, helping Stepmother find out that she was being investigated and clean up the mess. It could still be done. Besides, he was probably lying to get her "cooperation." Though a prettier lie would involve tales of fantastic rescue and luxurious living elsewhere, this lie would work just as well on a slave girl. He just wanted her to give him what he needed so he could destroy her livelihood in the end; Stepmother had made that very clear. And Stepmother, no matter how cruel, had never lied.
"I know what you're thinking," Chase interrupted her thoughts. "You think that it's better for you just to keep quiet. You're scared to talk."
Scared? That got Ella's attention. Was she scared? She thought she was just being rational, just making it clear what survival tactic would be best applied here. But maybe she was scared. All right, supposing she was scared: who was she scared of? This Snake? He looked at her with serious eyes, eyes that she correctly interpreted. He thought she was a starving unhealthy girl forced or not into sin who was worried by his big tough change of routine. Nope, she definitely wasn't scared of him. So she was scared of someone else, and there could only be one other. But Stepmother had taken care of her. Stepmother made sure she was taken care of, went out of her way to feed and clothe and bathe her. If it wasn't for Stepmother, Ella wouldn't be alive. Everything Stepmother did was to take care of her, even if it was for purely selfish reasons.
Then she remembered the girl in the green dress, sobbing in front of the fire after her first Fellow.
Chase jerked back instinctively as Ella threw back her head and laughed. It wasn't the laugh she shared with Fellows; it was rusty from lack of use, cruel and harsh sounding. When the laughter subsided she sat on the couch, leaned back, stretched out her arms and rested them on the couch back, and tilted her head. "All right, I'll cooperate," she said, smiling behind her mask. "But I want information in exchange. If you're going to get us out, you're going to need my help."
He looked insulted by her sudden change of attitude. "Hey, I'm the one in charge of the situation here," he said.
Something in his intentions brought back words and feelings from her past world. "You think... You think you're Prince Charming," she said, condescendingly, as the words finally came back to her. "You think you're going to whisk us away to a... a happily afterwards."
"Happy ever after."
She laughed again. "Very well, Prince. So you're in charge of the operation. So what happens at midnight?"
"Huh?"
"Midnight, tonight. What happens at midnight?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Er, nothing's planned for mid-"
She raised a finger. "Wrong answer. At midnight tonight, Stepmother will be walking around all the rooms to make sure that the Fellows are being adequately entertained and that the girls aren't doing anything rebellious. Now, I don't know about you, but personally when Stepmother comes to have a little look-see around that curtain, she's not going to find anything erotic in me telling you how to bring down her sex empire."
Chase, whose face had almost returned to its normal color, flushed yet again. "I see what you mean, but..." He looked perplexed at what to do about it.
"So what we need to do is ensure that I'm out of here before then," Ella said, "and make sure she doesn't notice that I'm still dressed and untouched. So what I would do is leave at eleven, go downstairs, and take a shower to erase the evidence – or, rather, the lack of evidence. And what you'll do is take off your shoes, socks, and pants, climb into bed – with or without your shirt, either works – and for God's sake, take your tie off!"
Nervously, Chase reached up and began to tug at his tie. Sitting up, Ella calmed down and said, "Look, neither of us is in control of this situation. Stepmother is. So what's going to happen, if we want this to work, is I'm going to tell you want you need to know, and you're going to do what I tell you to. You can't do this without me."
Chase looked at her askance as he set his tie aside and sat down across from her on the couch. "You seem oddly excited about this."
Yes, Ella was excited. She was playing a dangerous game, rolling the dice on a risky gamble. And, worse still, she wasn't sure why. But as one hand went to her neck for the little gold tree that no longer dangled there, she smiled grimly behind her mask. "You want to rescue me, Prince. Of course I'm excited."
Through questions, Ella learned that Chase knew a lot about Stepmother, and what he hadn't known was quickly clarified by tonight. Apparently he had been part of a special group assigned specifically for taking down this "operation," whispers of which they'd been picking up on for a while now. It seemed that no matter how tight Stepmother ran her ship, she couldn't get her customers to keep their mouths in the same line. Six years after finally gaining permission to make something out of these rumors, Chase and his superiors had tracked down not Stepmother herself, but her events. There were certain buildings that were being rented at the same time every year, and while always under different names, the people attending were generally the same. Ella figured that these buildings were the places she was driven to for dancing and teasing performances. The biggest event they had finally pinned down a few years ago was this one, and since then Chase had been trying to earn trust with enough people who were involved to look like he was involved himself. How he had been able to get into this particular event without having slept with one of the girls, Ella didn't know, and he wasn't willing to divulge.
Now that Chase was "inside," the plan was to have a raid on Stepmother's headquarters, arresting her and her men, and some Stepsisters, all at once, while gathering up the girls as well. They wanted to be able to find her business records as well, to track down girls that may have been sold permanently and for other details that Chase promised to tell her about later.
"Why can't you just raid her now?" Ella asked. "Almost everyone's here. You know it's an, what do you call it, an illegal operation. So why aren't you going outside and calling in your fellow Sn- policemen now?"
Chase, who seemed to have something wrong with the blood vessels in his face, blushed again. "It's... it's complicated. But, well, some people feel it would be safer to do the raid at the headquarters. For the customers' sakes."
"You're not suggesting that this raid has the potential to get people hurt," Ella said, "because I'll stop 'cooperating' this instant."
"No, no, not physical hurt," Chase assured her. "It's... more for the sake of the customers'... reputations."
Oh, of course. She should have known. A raid here would result not only in Stepmother's reveal, but the customers' as well. And they would be found just as guilty of the crime by association and couldn't be ignored. But a raid on the House meant that any evidence found that incriminated a particularly big head honcho could be slipped quietly under the carpet.
So the raid was to take place at the House. And from what Ella gathered, the location of the House was all that the Snake needed. "So," Chase said, unfolding a couple street maps on the table, "could you show me where the headquarters is?"
"No."
He looked up at the ceiling. "For heaven's sakes, you're impossible. I've answered all your questions, now will you please –"
"I can't, Prince," Ella said. "I don't know where I am."
He looked at her, puzzled. "You... don't have to tell me in relation to here, I just want to know where it is in the city."
Ella shook her head, her eyes starting to glaze over as she thought. "But I don't know what city. I don't know what city or even country I'm in right now. All I know is that the majority of people speak English."
She could see the questions in his face, so she continued. "I was only eight when Stepmother brought me in. Before, I lived in –" She stopped. She thought. She looked down at her lap, folded her hands, and tried to remember. "I lived... I lived in Chicago. I think. Somewhere near there. That's..." That's where Daddy worked. Daddy used to work in Chicago. "But when the men took me, they put me in a black car and I couldn't see out the windows. We drove for two days. Each day we stopped once in the morning to use the restroom in some remote rest area, and once again in the evening. When they stopped for food they wouldn't let me out, and we always drove while we ate. And when I arrived at the House, they pulled in the garage and closed the door before they let me out. They always do, no matter where we go, so we can't see where we are." She looked back up at Chase, glad for the mask that hid the confusion. "I don't know where I am."
Chase sat on a chair and thought for some long minutes. Finally, he asked, "Do you think you know how long it took for you to get here from the... the House?"
Of course Ella knew. Being able to keep track of time was an important skill. "It was about one hour's drive."
She brightened up a bit when Chase said he could use that. He showed her where they were on the map, thought it meant little to Ella, and said that his people could draw a circle around that point. On the border of and within the circle would be all places that could be driven to from their current place within one hour. That meant they could narrow down their search.
Next he asked for a description of the House. Ella gave what she could, knowing that it would only be a little, since the most she saw came from the inside of a window. But she was able to give him what it was made of and the fact that it was hidden from the view of any streets by brick buildings, at least. From there, Chase wanted what he called a "floor plan." This was easy to provide, because Ella had scrubbed almost the entire building on her hands and knees and knew each inch of the floor and its stains personally. She described the locations of all the rooms in comparison to each other, and he seemed to be committing the entire place to memory.
Suddenly the hall clock chimed eleven. She stood. "I have to go if we're going to keep your story up."
Chase looked pained. "I don't have everything I need."
She shrugged. "It's a three-day event. We'll finish next time. Are you sleeping over, or going home?"
"Going home, to report to my superiors."
"Wait until one to leave. Use the shower in that back room there first, don't dry your hair. Keep your tie off and don't put your suit coat on. Thank Stepmother for the wonderful night and wink or something."
He shrugged. "You know best."
She started toward the curtain, then paused. "Hey, Prince. Request me for tomorrow. You want to involve as few girls as possible. You never know what the girl you get tomorrow will be like."
He nodded. "Got it. What's your name?"
She laughed in that harsh laugh again. "Didn't you hear Stepmother? I'm Cin-der-el-la!" she said, swinging her hips with each syllable.
His face did its tomato impression again. "Well, yeah, but... What's your real name?"
Ella tilted her masked face, considering him. She shook her head. "... I'm not going to tell you."
Chase nodded. "Okay, I get it."
She started to leave again, but he kept speaking. "I owe you an apology, Cinderella."
"What for?"
He sounded slightly ashamed but defensive as he spoke. "I thought you were going to be some, well, empty-headed... empty-headed..."
"Hooker."
"Yeah. Empty-headed hooker. But I've realized that you can think for yourself, and will think for yourself. You're not as... bad as I thought you would be."
She nodded. "Thank you. I owe you an apology, too."
His brows furrowed. "For what?"
She turned around and lifted the curtain. "I still think you're stupid."
***
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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Oct 04, 2011 6:20 pm
Cinderella stepped out of the shower, drying her hair with a towel. She had slipped back into an ordinary yellow dress, putting the ball gown and glass slippers away. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, but there were two things that needed to be done first. One was drive back to the House, because Stepmother didn't want to risk having so many of her girls in one place outside of the House. And the second...
She had been thinking about what she had gotten herself into while scrubbing herself raw in the shower, and she wasn't liking it. She regretted the reckless adventuring spirit that had possessed her to tell the Snake she would cooperate. She wanted to get out of this jam, yet –
She couldn't. She was grateful for the survival Stepmother had given her, and yet she wanted to get out so badly. As she had felt the first day she had entered the House, nowhere was better than here.
She needed someone to talk to. Someone who could straighten this out in her head.
The girls who had been auctioned off would sleep in their Fellows' beds. The rest were in line waiting for the cars and for any stray girls that were taking longer to entertain their Fellows. Most girls were looking tired, worn, and anything but sociable, so Ella was uncomfortable as she slipped behind Margot and whispered, "I need to talk to you."
Margot didn't look at her, but breathed a reply. "When?"
"After everyone's asleep."
"I'll wait outside my door."
"Thanks."
Avoiding the eyes of Stepmother's men, Ella made her way back to her real space in line. They didn't all come in the same car, after all, and certain cars had different stories rehearsed in case of apprehension ¬– not that that had ever happened, but after tonight's encounter, it seemed to Ella that Snakes might be hiding behind every corner.
It seemed to take too long to return to the House; with every minute that passed Ella feared that one of the girls would see the look on her face and demand to know what she was up to. The Stepsister in her car was the most nerve-racking; a vicious girl in purple, she turned her haughty nose up at everyone and liked to enlarge all minor instances into giant dramas.
But the cars rolled into the garage, each having gone a different route, and the girls went in, washed, dressed, and rolled into bed without anyone discovering Ella's secret.
She lay next to Jessie, scarcely daring to breathe, trying to sense when Jessie had fallen asleep and biting at her own hand to keep herself from dozing. When she could stand it no more and lifted her head an inch off the mattress, she slowly rose, tiptoed out of the room, and closed the door behind her.
After a few minutes looking for the right corridor, she found Margot, barefoot in her red nightgown and looking from side to side nervously. Taking her elbow, she led her to a broom closet, one as far away from any Stepsister's room as she could get. Forcing herself and the other girl in, she squeezed the door shut, prayed for heavy sleep for the guards and Stepmother, and turned around.
Margot, who was sitting on a bucket and bent in a light angle to her left in order to fit, placed her hands on her knees and simply asked, "What's wrong?"
Ella told her everything. In hurried, hushed tones she whispered about the Snake, his plans to raid the House, and how she had agreed to "cooperate." She whispered that she was to see him again tomorrow, and that he would be requesting her; she told Margot that she had not removed her mask, that she had described the House as best she could, and that she did not know what more he wanted to know.
"I don't know what to do!" she hissed, fear finally crossing her face. "What have I done? If this goes wrong, I could – it would all –"
Margot reached up and placed a finger to her lips. Ella put her hand over her own, stemming the flow of panicked words. After a pause, she lowered her hand and whispered, "I'm scared. I think I've done something wrong, on the spur of the moment."
Margot shook her head. To her surprise, Ella saw she was smiling. "Do you know how much I used to pray to get a Snake? I always vowed that I would tell him everything. And many a girl has daydreamed of a Snake that would rescue her –"
"A Prince Charming," Ella whispered, remembering Chase's blonde surfer features.
"You're doing nothing wrong, Ella," Margot said. "In fact, you're doing exactly what's right."
Ella was not about to be convinced. "I could get us both killed; me for being involved, you for knowing."
"If you really believed that, you wouldn't tell me, and you wouldn't have said yes," Margot reasoned. "Ella, I want you to promise me right now that you will tell the Snake everything he wants to know."
"Everything?"
"Everything you can. Help him bring down Stepmother, at all costs."
Ella tilted her head, bumped it into a mop, and settled for furrowing her brows. "But I thought you loved Stepmother."
Margot sighed. "Love is complicated. I don't want Stepmother to die a painful death, because she has kept me alive out of charity. But Stepmother's business... I would feel no remorse if she were to be taken to jail for what she has done to us. You see, I love the person, but not her intentions or her deeds."
"Can you truly love one without loving the others?" Ella asked.
Margot shrugged. "I can. Really, Ella, what my love serves to do is to keep me sane in a world of cruelty. By loving Stepmother, I can forgive her as I lay on my backside to every Fellow, and therefore survive within myself." She bowed her head, then raised it again, and for the first time there was something hard in her eyes. "But what you have the chance to do is something far greater than such petty love. You have the chance to free us. All of us. Think of the little girls, the blacks and pinks and blues who have yet to experience the full horrors of this business. You can prevent that. You can save the rest of us from experiencing more."
Ella shook her head. "What if he's leading me on? What if he doesn't mean to help at all?"
"You don't believe that either, or else you wouldn't have agreed to assist him," Margot reasoned. "You're a very intelligent girl, Ella. You know where you stand with people once meeting them. You can feel out how they are."
Ella didn't ask how Margot knew this. She only smiled, ruefully, and said, "All right. So I play the part of a heroine and damsel in distress all in one; I assist the Prince Charming in helping us to escape our plight. What happens then? Are we cast out on the streets, to starve to death?"
Margot gripped Ella's wrists. "Ella, I will never let that happen. This Snake will never let that happen. We will all live good lives, when we are rescued." Her face brightened, and her grip tightened, as she continued. "We will eat well, and sleep well, with no one else in our beds. We will never have to see another naked man as long as we live. We will wash and do chores at our leisure, and take no more dancing lessons. We will wear whatever colors we want."
Ella looked down at her yellow nightgown, gazed at Margot's red one, and said nothing.
Margot let go of Ella's wrists and took her hands instead. "Help the Snake, Ella. Save us all."
***
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Posted: Fri Oct 14, 2011 1:04 pm
When she lay down her dreams were fitful.
Laughing, she gathered flowers for mother. Mother loved flowers. But she ran to Father first, her precious Daddy, to show him how Mother had taught her to braid the flowers together. So she veered her course away from the far-away figure of her mother and lifted instead her hands to the giant man with the kind, bearded face. "Daddy! Father, Daddy!"
And he laughed, and picked her up, and held her, and whispered, "Make a wish."
She laughed and laughed, and kissed his cheek, which hurt because of the beard. He put her down and Mother was there, Mommy Mother Mama Mother, "Make a wish upon a star" Mother I love you!
Mother knelt and put her hand under Ella's coat collar. And she drew forth a golden necklace of a tree, and she said, "Make a wish."
That's right, the necklace was for wishing. "When we're apart, wish upon this charm, and I will hear you," she had said. A gift from her mother.
Ella took the tree in her own tiny hands and whispered, "I wish for a beautiful dress of riches."
A shrill cry, and a little bird soared down from the clouds. In its claws it held a yellow dress, and it dropped it at her feet, whistling its tune.
Mother dressed her in the yellow dress and spun her around. "Now you are pretty," she said.
Ella put on her mask and turned, giving her hand to Chase, who laughed and said, "Of course I'll rescue you! Ask the bird for your mother, now, and for your father."
But the bird was gone, and her mother and father were gone too. She looked for the tree, but it was cut down, Chase said, cut down to make the coffins.
She woke.
Panting, she gazed around her. It was still early; no one else was up, taking advantage of Stepmother's decree that girls who worked late could sleep in late, in order to be refreshed that night.
The dream shook her; she had not seen the faces of her parents so clearly in such a long time. And then the memory of their faces was gone again, and she felt the loss more keenly than before. Biting her lip to keep from crying, she put her hand to her neck, searching for the little gold chain, before remembering where the wishing tree was: in Stepmother's fire.
Lying back down, Ella made her promise to Margot. Tonight, I will tell the Snake all.
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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Oct 23, 2011 11:05 am
***
The next day was Halloween.
Ella hardly remembered what Halloween was, but she knew it was somewhere in fall, because Fellows had asked for Halloween themed events before. Considering it was sometime during summer, Ella figured that the point of celebrating Halloween early was just so Stepmother could keep up the idea of everyone wearing masks.
So all the girls, and some of the Fellows, were wearing costumes with their masks. The costumes matched their colors; one Blue, for example, was a mermaid, and one Green was a forest fairy. All costumes, of course, were made to look "appealing." Ella wasn't sure what she was supposed to be; her dress, which was strapless and had a short sort of tutu, was mostly yellow, but had some black stripes on it. She had wings, too, little ones, had antennae attached to a headband, and her mask was yellow-and-black striped. She was trying hard to remember what it was when she came out with her yellows and Glass Slippers to perform dances to spooky music. (Spooky seductive dancing? Stepmother could make everything dirty.)
These dances took less time than the individual introductions the night before had, so more time was spent dancing with the Fellows. Ella had just about resigned herself to a few hours of hungry boredom when she was exchanged again and suddenly found herself facing a familiar mask framed by familiar blonde hair. "Finally got you," Chase whispered. "It's taken me an hour. You're a popular dance partner."
"What are you doing?" Ella hissed. "If you give Stepmother any reason to think –"
"Stepmother knows that I requested you for the night," Chase said. "So she won't be suspicious if I want to dance with you, will she?"
"Most Fellows dance with other girls in case they want to change their minds," Ella said, dropping her voice as they neared a Stepsister.
"Aren't there some here who become smitten?" Chase whispered back. "That gentleman over there danced with the same girl all of yesterday, and hasn't passed her off yet tonight."
"Which one?"
"That one, over there. He's wearing the old baron costume."
"With the frilly collar and moldy coat?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Dancing with Stephanie – the girl dressed as a policewoman?"
"That's the one."
"So he's a masochist. No wonder I never had him."
"How do you know that?"
Ella bit her lip and looked out of the corner of her eye at Stepmother, hidden in the back of the room, watching. "I'll tell you in the room."
He understood, and changed the subject. "What are you supposed to be, anyway? You look like a giant bumblebee."
Bumblebee! The word brought to mind forgotten images of flying fuzzy insects, insects that meant flowers and buzzing and pain all in one. Gardens and mothers and fathers danced in her head. She whispered, "Do you know, I'd forgotten what bees were?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I haven't been outside since... What year is it?"
He gave it to her, and she did the math in her head, subtracting away the year she had been taken away, the year of her eighth birthday. As the math became clear, she did it again, and again, until she could not longer deny it. "Twelve years... I haven't been outside in... I've been here for twelve years." She looked down at her glass slippers, and looked back up in Chase's mask. "I'm twenty years old."
She spent the next few hours with him. Many times men had interrupted, asking to dance with her, but Chase just shook his head. Stepmother noticed this, and arranged so that he was seated next to her for dinner. Dinner became an entertainment, as Chase engaged her in what looked like polite conversation but what was in reality a mocking of the other Fellows. "Does he really think all magicians have a handlebar moustache that big?" "That clown costume is not sexy at all. Why wear it here?" "That one over there keeps petting the girl's hand with his werewolf paws. She doesn't seem to like it much, does she?"
More dancing, another auction, and finally Ella was pulling back the curtain to enter the Upstairs room. Chase was, of course, already there, and had removed his mask. She kept hers on but removed the antennae, threw the headband on the table, and gestured impatiently as she walked toward the couch. "Tie off, and didn't I tell you to unbutton the shirt a little? You might want to try messing up your hair, too, seeing as this is supposed to be a more intense day. And please don't blush."
Of course he blushed again, and as he followed her orders he said, "You said you'd explain how you knew the customer – what'd you call him, Fellow? – was a masochist."
Ella sighed as she sat down and leaned her head back on the couch. "Stephanie – or, Stella, I guess, since she's probably hearing that name over and over right now as that stupid 'baron' kisses her hand – is a Maroon. Reds are for Fetishes, but she specializes in sadism, so she usually wears maroon. You could see how the color was inserted in her policewoman costume here and there."
Chase sat down across from her. "I don't understand."
"It's how Stepmother organizes us," Ella said. "Weren't you paying attention when we were dancing? No, I can tell you were trying not to," she sighed as he flushed scarlet again. "Stepmother makes us wear colors based on what our jobs are. You probably didn't specify a specific desire, did you, when she gave you the questionnaire? That's why you have a Yellow, a Gentle."
"You, gentle?" he choked. "I've seen crocodiles more gentle than you."
She pointed a finger at him. "Watch it, Prince. I put on an act when I'm in this dress. I'm lucky to not be Red, or Green. I'll act like the sweetest person alive if it keeps me exactly that – alive."
He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, hands folded. "What else do you have to do to survive?"
"Easy: obey." She looked up at him. "I scrub the floors, wash the walls, pick crumbs out of the ashes to make Stepmother happy. I brush the Stepsisters' hair and mend their dresses – you know what the Stepsisters are, the ones she was auctioning off for higher prices. I please the Fellows, I dance, I wear the glass shoes."
Interest flashed in his face. "I was wondering about the glass shoes, actually. What's the point?"
Ella leaned forward and took off one slipper. Handing it to him, she said, "Be careful with that. I won't eat if you break it. That's my key ticket to survival right now. Only special girls manage to walk on these shoes, and even we have to be careful."
He handled the slipper gently, turning it over, testing it lightly with his knuckles. "How does she choose you?"
Ella shrugged. "She tests you out, sees if you seem like you have the light step for it. I had to do all sorts of tests with walking on eggshells. Then she molds your foot and makes slippers especially for you, because they have a better chance of working if they fit your foot perfectly. And then, you learn to walk in them."
"Do they ever break?"
Ella chuckled humorlessly. "Almost always." She lifted her foot to show him her sole; vivid scars crisscrossed her arch, ball, heel, and toes. "Usually, no matter how light a walker you are, the shoes break under you. But Stepmother doesn't give up; she makes the shoes again and you try again, until you learn how."
Chase looked revolted. He placed the shoe softly down on the table, where it glittered. "I'm not liking the sound of this Stepmother all that much."
She laughed harshly again. "What were you expecting? A kind, caring mother who gave her daughters to men for fun?" Ella shook her head. "Stepmother is a business woman, and we are her business. We're her wares."
Chase looked at her with concern. "What does she do when her wares wear down?"
Ella took off the other glass slipper. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, when you get old or... or ugly. What happens?"
Ella froze. What happened? "When... when we get old..." Slowly, she placed the slipper next to the other one, and the light glinted off its surface harshly. "Then you wear a brown band with all your clothes, and she sells you as Mature. But... when you get too old, or too sick..."
Ella had heard about the Rags. Castoffs of Stepmother, sent out into the world to die. She had heard the men talking among themselves, when they would return from escorting a Rag out into the world. They would drug them and dump them, sometimes within sight of a nursing home or hospital if they were feeling charitable. The drugs would prevent them from making any sense, and discredit them if they tried to tell someone about Stepmother. All that was left for them was to live off the charity of the dreaded, cold Outside World. The Rags had outlived their ability to earn their keep, and so Stepmother no longer found it necessary to support them.
She explained this, as best she could, but the words stuck. For the first time, she was realizing that if she didn't get out of here, that would be her fate as well: abandoned, alone, as cold and empty as she was when her parents died. She lifted her face and stared into Chase's eyes. "You have to get us out. If I'm risking myself like this, you have to promise me there won't be any more Rags."
Chase nodded, his face grim. "All right, then. Let's get to work."
He pulled out a street map, and from within its folds pulled out a blueprint. Earlier that day he had relayed to the "boys at the office" everything she had told him about the House, and they had drawn a blueprint, after using her scant descriptions to figure out where it was. How they had managed to do this, he didn't say. He asked her to give it a look over, and she examined it carefully, nodding her head when everything was satisfactory. "You put the cupboards in the wrong spot and put in a dining table when there isn't one, but for your purposes I would say this is perfect."
Chase took out a pen. "Good. What I want you to do now is tell me everything about Stepmother and her men. These Stepsisters, too – they make you nervous as well, don't they?"
He leaned over the blueprint with her and took notes as she pointed out which rooms were Stepsisters', Stepmother's, and the men's. She pointed out Stepmother's separate study, and gave him Stepmother's schedule, from her bed to her study to her lessons and back to bed. She told him which rooms were for lessons, as well, pointing out dancing halls and other rooms whose purposes made Chase flush scarlet. She described the regular daily routine, and who could be found where, peppering her facts with implications like "sometimes she lets the men surprise us here, if she thinks we're too lazy." Chase's face remained red, but he took notes with a steady hand.
"Why do you need to know all this, anyway?" she asked as they took a break, her leaning back and him massaging his writing hand.
"For the raid," he said. "We want to do this in a way that gives Stepmother as little time to react as possible, and that involves as few of the... the girls as possible. So we need to know when we can pinpoint Stepmother's and the men's locations."
Ella nodded. "Good. In that case, you'll be wanting to know what the men are equipped with, because she has guards out at all hours of the night, so you'll never get a chance to sneak attack."
Chase looked up, startled. "You mean we won't be able to break into the House?"
"Not without one of them raising an alarm." She took the pen from him and marked the map with Xs. "Here are where there are always men posted, at all times. Each guard is equipped with a walkie-talkie kind of thing, a club, brass knuckles, and panic buttons that will alert Stepmother in any of her rooms." She marked all the doors leading out of the House with squares. "And here you'll find guards that are equipped with a gun, in addition to the rest of their equipment. They never leave their post, until their replacement arrives."
He took back the pen and scribbled more notes. "How can Stepmother afford to hire so many men?"
Ella shrugged. "It's a good business for all of them. She has multiple eyes and ears watching us and keeping us out from under the radar. They get to be commanding, brutal men like they want to be, and are paid for it well. Plus, sometimes as a bonus, she'll let them have their pick of us for free. And you must know that it isn't cheap to hire me."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "That's not really my part of this job, but I heard some guys at the office grumbling about the cost of this project."
She nodded. "The more I think about it, the more I realize what a genius Stepmother is at what she does. I still can't believe you managed to sneak in here."
Chase shrugged. "I'm paid to get around barriers. I'm good at breaking into organizations."
"But not so good at talking to people, are you?"
He flushed again. "I haven't been doing so badly, have I?" She laughed, and he grinned sheepishly. "Well, no, I usually don't have to actually go in myself, I just get others in. But they didn't want to risk smuggling more than one cop in." He rolled up the map and stood up. "That's all I needed to know for tonight, I guess."
Ella tilted her head. "So what happens tomorrow?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Nothing. I won't be coming back tomorrow."
Ella made a sound like a buzzer and pointed a finger at him. "Wrong answer! You're coming back and you're telling me how this raid is going to work."
He sat back down, hard. "Now, now, I can't risk having... having Stepmother hearing about what we're planning to –"
Ella lifted her hands in exasperation. "Do you think we'd be sitting here right now if I wasn't good at hiding things from Stepmother? You have to tell me how the raid is going to work, and I'll tell you why. I need to organize the girls."
"Cinderella, listen, weren't you the one who said it'd be risky to have more than one girl –"
"It'd be risky to see what girl Stepmother sent up to you and figure out if it'd be wise to ask her for information," Ella interrupted. "But I know the girls, and I'll be able to find them myself, which you don't and can't. I'm going to gather a select group of girls that all the others know and trust. I'm going to tell them about the raid so that, when it happens, they'll act like a standard for all the others to gather around. You're forgetting, we have young girls in the House, who when they hear your troops yelling and fighting will probably panic. Having more than one girl ready to tell them 'it's okay, follow me,' will definitely minimize the chaos and make it easier for you to do your own job."
Chase seemed to think about this. "How many will you tell?"
That was a good question. Ella thought about it. "About one per color group, I think, and two more to take care of the real little ones. That's about ten or so. They won't be much, but they'll be enough to start, and they'll get other rationally-minded ones to help them out as we go. All I want to do is give them a heads-up so they'll be more calm and collected as hell breaks loose."
The cop nodded. "Okay. That sounds reasonable. I'll talk to my chief about it and we'll see what happens."
Ella leaned back again and folded her hands behind her neck. "What happens is he'll know which one of us is smart and take my advice."
Chase laughed and finished folding his maps. "Of course, of course. Hey, tell me something."
"I've been doing nothing but for the past two nights. Shoot."
"You're a crafty girl. You're good at coming up with schemes."
"Of course. So?"
"Why haven't you run away before?"
Slowly, Ella brought her hands back down to her lap. "What?"
Chase gestured around the room with his hand. "You don't like it here, do you? So why haven't you run away?"
Ella folded her hands in her lap and stared at them, at a loss for words. When she finally spoke, her voice was curiously demure. "You can't run away from Stepmother. She's everywhere. She finds you."
"How can you know until you try?"
"I know because it happened." Ella twitched involuntarily. "She – she made us watch. All of the older ones, and us children who were too defiant. Two girls had tried to run away, and she caught them in a matter of days. She..." Ella took a breath and said, "I can't."
"Tell me."
"I can't."
"Cinderella." He stood and left his chair, circled the table, and sat back down next to her on the couch. "What happened?"
Ella stared at her hands. "One at a time. She put down a tarp first. Brought out a bucket. Brought out a chair and a carving knife. One of the men dragged out one of the girls, and tied her to the chair. Stepmother gagged her and stuffed cotton in her mouth so she wouldn't bite her tongue. And she measured her foot, and whichever was larger, her toe or her heel, she –"
Ella's hands convulsed and gripped each other spasmodically. "And then she'd bring out the other. And do it again. Most of us couldn't watch. But even with the gags we heard the screams. Neither of them would ever walk again. They both became Greens, Dark Ugly Greens, and served Fellows so perverse that they would come home with broken bones and giant bruises around their necks." She raised her head and took a deep breath, eyes closed. "You can't escape Stepmother."
She jerked in surprise when she felt a warm hand grip both of hers. Chase was leaning forward, staring intently into her mask. "You'll never have to be afraid of her again. Day after tomorrow, you and all the girls will be gone. Stepmother will be in jail, for life if I have any say. And you..." He let go of her hand, blushing.
Ella focused on relaxing, trying hard to breathe normally. The edges of her eyes were burning in a strange sensation she almost remembered. What were these? Tears? She was grateful for the mask. "You have to promise."
"I do."
"You have to promise that I won't see another toe cut off."
"I promise."
She looked up at him, and he wasn't blushing.
The clock struck eleven-thirty.
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Posted: Sun Oct 23, 2011 4:18 pm
***
"He sounds serious."
Ella snarled angrily at the dusty mop that kept batting her head. "I'm such an idiot. Never trust Snakes, that's what we always said."
"That's what Stepmother always said," Margot reasoned, "and Stepmother always told you that we'd starve if she hadn't picked us up, didn't she?"
Ella and Margot were in the broom cupboard again. Ella kept curling her fingers in her hair, pulling in frustration. "I'm such an idiot. Do you know, I almost cried in front of him? And it's not even like his a brilliant genius helping us escape the claws of death, he's a klutz who blushes at the merest suggestion who thinks he's whisking us off our feet."
"Ella, dear, don't you think that you might not be looking at him in the best light?"
Ella gave vent to a muffled scream of confusion and knelt on the cupboard floor, panting. "I'm such an idiot."
"Ella, stop saying that." From her seat on the bucket, Margot leaned forward and cupped Ella's chin in her fingers. "You're not an idiot, and here's why: he cares about you, cares about not only what monetary gain he can have from you but about you and your freedom and your health. You haven't experienced that in a long time, so you've started to relax around him. The walls you built around your heart are coming down."
"And that's a terrible thing!"
"Why?"
Ella turned her head away, unable to meet Margot's eyes as she said, "I need the walls. We all need the walls in order to survive. It's how we keep from getting distracted, and –"
"Hearts of cloth, Ella, remember?" Margot said, cupping Ella's chin again and turning it back to her. "Remember, Ella, we're going to get out of here because of a man who is clearly uncomfortable with prostitutes, but who cares about us. He's stretched his heart to encompass us. You have to do the same thing. Let your heart accept him."
"I can't, Margot, I can't," Ella hissed, "don't you see?"
"Don't stop looking at me, Ella," Margot commanded, sharply. Ella quelled her arguments and listened as Margot's fingers tightened under her chin. "Listen to me, Ella. Stepmother has taken everything from you: your freedom, your innocence, your name, even the right to wear whatever color you want. This man is being paid to free you. Now, when he first met you, he thought he'd be dealing with a brainless slave. But you're not brainless, Ella, and he knows that now."
Ella winced. "But I started to cry –"
"I'm not done, Ella." Margot moved her hand to pet Ella's hair. "Being brainless and being emotional are not the same thing. The smartest people have times when they cry. It's only natural. And you were crying because you found someone who cared about you. He makes you think and feel the way no one has for twelve years."
Ella put her own hand on Margot's and removed it from her head, holding it. "I don't want to become this. I'm scared I'm becoming weak."
Margot smiled. "It hardly matters, since we're going to be rescued anyway after tomorrow. But you're not becoming weak. You're becoming stronger. I told you, hearts of cloth, remember?"
Ella shook her head, but did not protest. Instead, she turned to the real reason why she and Margot were back in this closet. "So who should I talk to?"
Margot knew what she meant, and took her hand away from Ella, thinking. "From the Blues, I'd take Emma, and from Pink I'd take Olivia. Neither of them were ever promoted because they're both STD carriers. So they know all the little girls in those categories. Black, I'd pick Abigail..."
Margot knew seemingly everyone in the House. With her help, Ella was able to create a list of girls who were responsible, cool-headed, and good at thinking on their feet. But most importantly, the other girls in their color groups were familiar with them. Ella wanted Margot to take care of the Reds, but Margot shook her head. "I'm going to stay with you," she said. "You'll be working with your Prince, I suspect? You'll want someone to help deliver messages if necessary."
Ella furrowed her brows. "I have no reason to believe I'll be doing anything besides evacuating. Why would you have to follow me?"
Margot smiled. "I want us to achieve freedom together, Ella."
Ella looked up at her, a little confused. "I don't really understand you, you know."
"Because I, too, care about you?" Margot laughed softly, and the sound made Ella smile. "You don't have to understand. Just care about me in return. What will you do, when we're free?"
Ella's eyes became mischievous. "I'll sleep in as late as I want. And you?"
Margot's arms made graceful motions in the air. "I'll dance again, like my sister and I used to."
"I'll visit parks and see flowers and make little braids out of their stems again."
"I'll make an entire loaf of bread and eat it all for myself!"
"I'll sleep in my own big bed!"
"I'll wear a pair of jeans and a nice, warm sweater."
"What's your favorite color, Margot?"
"Purple. I want to wear purple when we get out of here. And you?"
Ella had to think for a long time. "I'm going to wear green. I'm going to wear green, and it will mean freedom, not pain."
Margot clasped Ella's hands. "Let's live in the same town. Let's be neighbors. I'll come over to see you every day and we can talk as much as we want, wearing whatever colors we want."
Ella smiled and said nothing.
***
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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Oct 31, 2011 5:48 pm
Stepmother appeared to have run out of ideas of events that included masks, because the third night's theme was that of a circus. Ella didn't remember circuses that much, but enough older girls were complaining about the concept that she gathered that people didn't usually put "mask" and "circus" together.
Groups were given roles based on their color, of course. Greens were clowns, Reds were animal tamers, and Yellows were acrobats. Ella was wearing a yellow dress embroidered with sequins in swirling lines, the skirt of which was short yet flowing. Her mask was tied into her hair with bright yellow ribbons, and a giant yellow bow sat on one shoulder. She wasn't sure how she felt about this costume.
After the performances, Chase once again spotted her right away. "Do you ever wear anything besides a suit?" she asked as they started waltzing.
"What else is there?" he replied.
Ella looked over her shoulder pointedly at an older Fellow, who was sporting a tiny strongman costume, complete with moustache.
"I... kinda got the feeling that you wouldn't take me seriously if I wore a costume," he said.
Ella smiled grimly. "At least it would give me something new to make fun of you of."
He pretended to look hurt, then continued dancing more brightly. "You must be awfully bored, to have to pick on someone as innocent as I."
Ella sighed and her shoulders drooped. "'Bored' isn't the word. The whole dancing thing gets really old."
"I could imagine. I'm already falling asleep to the music. Who picks this stuff?"
"Well, a lot of Fellows are a bit older," Ella muttered, "especially the ones that come to events like these."
"You talk like you go to events like these a lot."
Ella nodded glumly. "Every year since I became a Glass Slipper."
"No wonder you're so bored."
"Please," she sighed again, "I got bored after the first fifteen minutes all those years ago. Like I said, 'bored' is not an adequate word to describe how I feel."
Chase chuckled. "Then I'll just have to amuse you myself. Shall I give you ample opportunity to admire my rapier-like wit?"
"Oh, please, spare me."
"Very well, I'll just have to burst out into a tango and see what Stepmother thinks when she sees you strutting the floor with me."
"Whatever you do," Ella hissed, "do not make me stand out!"
"I wasn't serious, you know."
"Well, I take everything seriously."
"Which is why I'm glad I got you."
Ella smiled and said nothing.
Upstairs in the room, Ella sighed with relief as she took off her shoes. "I'm always worried they're going to snap under me," she complained, putting her feet up on the couch. Leaning back, she put one hand behind her head and motioned with the other one for Chase to start talking. "What's up with the plan?"
Chase pulled out the blueprints. "It's complicated. You might want to sit up."
She did, and watched, fascinated, as he illustrated the plan. "The raid will happen at oh-five hours precisely. Police are going to enter from all entries: garage, front, and back. We'll try to take out the armed men you have there first. We have to use a fairly small force inside the actual building, because your hallways are too narrow for a full force to go barging through. So our best bet is to use tranquilizers on your guys, to wipe them out fast but keep them alive to be prosecuted later."
"What's 'prosecuted?'"
"... Um, I'll explain that later. It's complicated."
"More complicated than this plan?"
"Do chickens lay eggs?" Chase pointed to Stepmother's sleeping chamber. "Our guys from the front door will move directly here to arrest your Stepmother. The guys from the back door are going to keep these – you called them what, Stepsisters? – in their rooms. And the Garage Crew will try and help evacuate you girls." He looked up. "Which is where I turn to you."
Ella smiled, and he snapped, "Stop looking so superior, will you?"
"I would, if I wasn't superior." She held her hand out, palm upwards. "Pen, please."
Chase gave her a pencil instead, but she accepted it. She put Xs in the rooms she was referring to, saying, "Here are the Reds, the Oranges, the Yellows, the Greens, the Blues, the Purples, the Blacks, the Browns, and the Whites. All have a leader assigned, though they don't know it yet; I have to meet with the assigned girls tonight. By five o'clock, most of us will be up doing chores, though Stepmother and the Stepsisters never wake up any earlier than 7:30, or nine if they can help it. Luckily, girls usually do the same chores every day, so we'll know where to find everyone. Chores take place in the kitchens and in each of these rooms, so we won't be too spread out. You chose a good time."
Chase nodded acknowledgement, and she continued. "Each leader is in charge of making sure that all girls are accounted for. You say the guys for us will be coming from the garage? They'll group their girls, tell them to follow, and start heading that way, which will lead them away from other points of conflict, hopefully. Let's see, she has men posted here and here on the way; we'll just have to hope that your guys take care of them by then. We'll do our best to assist you in leaving in an orderly manner. But telling a select few what is going to happen will decrease the odds of a stampeding panic, or of a girl getting caught in a conflict between Stepmother's men and yours."
Chase looked admiring. "Then all that remains will be to transport all of you out of there, and to get Stepmother behind bars. I'm not sure what will happen to the – the Stepsisters; depending on their ages, they might get jail time for a few years. The men will definitely be found guilty."
"What about us?"
He reached forward and held the hand that was clutching the pencil. "You'll all be treated as the victims you are, but with dignity and respect. Someone will give you a psychoanalysis so we can prove to people that you did what you had to in your circumstances. Some of you girls will go to court to testify against Stepmother. All of you will be free."
Free... Ella smiled behind her mask. The thought of her and Margot, each wearing their favorite colors and eating loaves of bread until they were sick, rose to her mind, and she could almost taste the future. Her hand relaxed around the pencil. "You sure this raid will work?"
"Positive!" He folded the blueprint and tucked it away, then pulled out another one. "Here's your copy. You'll want it to refer to tonight, won't you?" Standing, he moved from his chair to the opposite side of Ella's couch and handed the blueprint to her.
She accepted it and tucked it away down the front of her dress ¬– the only place where it could be hidden. "Thanks."
He smiled. "Looking forward to being free?"
Ella laughed, and he smiled brighter. She knew why – her laugh was no longer coarse or humorous. She laughed again. "I'm going to do so many things. And yet never do so many things ever again."
His face grew grim. He paused for a moment, as if searching for words, and said, "You remember what I said on day one?"
She pulled a wry face. "Yeah, that you thought I was going to be a mindless hooker."
"Yeah. I thought you'd be a brainwashed slave who couldn't rub two thoughts together."
"You're getting bolder with your words."
He smiled, but pressed on. "It's only been two days, but I can't believe how much you've been able to prove me wrong. You're clever, almost ruthless, and very sharp on the uptake. You're not just an informant; you're a co-conspirator."
Ella handed him one of her glass shoes and lifted the other one in a toast. "Cheers to that."
They clinked shoes, Chase smiling. "And you've achieved a sense of humor."
"I have to, around you," she said. "Or I wouldn't realize that your naivety and initial cluelessness goes away the longer you're exposed to an environment."
He lifted his slipper again and looked over its rim, like a gentleman quirking an eyebrow over a glass of wine. "Do my ears deceive me? Was that a compliment?"
"More like an observation," Ella said, setting her shoe down on the table. "In all seriousness, though, now that we're finally near the end, I'm grateful."
Something in her words sounded like a warning, and they both sat silently, pondering what it was that she had said.
Chase spoke first. "It's been a long three nights, hasn't it?"
Ella chuckled grimly. "And it's not even over yet."
She stared in surprise as Chase moved a bit closer. "When this is over, what are you going to do?"
She looked away from him. His eyes were strange. "I... don't know."
"You must have some plans. What do you want more than anything?"
She thought of colors and bread and a bed to herself. "I... I'll take it one day at a time, I guess."
He leaned forward, as if in urgency. "You have to promise me one thing, though."
She glanced at him. "Depends."
"Don't try and live out there on your own."
She quirked her mouth. "I won't. The rest of the world is out there, isn't it still?"
He shook his head and spoke with more urgency. "I don't want you to have to go out there on your own."
She patted his hand, trying to be condescending. "Look, Prince Charming, I'll be fine –"
"Listen!" He gripped her hand in both of his and pulled her closer. Eye to eye, they sat staring at one another, and Chase forced the words out from between his lips. "In here you've been relying on yourself. But you can't do that anymore. Out there... I don't want you to be alone anymore."
She tilted her head. "I won't be."
Chase let go with one hand. "No. No, you won't be." Reaching forward, one of his fingers brushed a ribbon of her mask.
She tried to jerk back. "Don't –"
"Please, Cinderella."
She bit her lip. "I can't. If Stepmother ever knew it was me –"
"I have to know who you are!" he insisted. He moved his other hand from her hand to her arm. "Please, Cinderella, I need to know who you are."
"But if Stepmother knew –"
His finger traced one ribbon to its bow in her hair and began to loosen it. "She won't. She'll never know it was you." The bow came undone, and the ribbon and a section of hair fell to her shoulder. "Please, Cinderella. I need to know."
She gripped his elbow. "Why?"
His face was flushed, but his eyes were clear. "Because you're not the brainless hooker I was expecting. I care about what happens to you."
Tears pricked her eyes as a second ribbon fell, loosed. "But I'm still just another girl you're saving –"
"You're the girl who helped me save them all." He let go of her arm and raised his other hand to untie the ribbons on the other side.
She tried once more to back away, but he gripped her shoulders. "I don't want you to know –"
"Why not?"
She sobbed. "I'm not... You're all wrong. You're not what a Snake is supposed to be. You aren't using me. I don't know what to do."
He put one finger to her lips, then returned to the ribbons. "I want to know you. Please, Cinderella."
She sobbed as the last ribbons began to loosen, but her hands trailed up to her mask.
BOOOOONNNNNGGGGG!
Ella gasped with shock and stood, forcing herself away, using her hands to push her mask to her face. "Midnight... Oh my god, it's midnight. I have to go."
She ran to the door, trying to fix the mask. Chase leaned forward, yelling at her back, "I'll find you!"
As she reached the curtain, Ella slowed to a stop. With one hand, she lifted the curtain, and with the other one, she lowered her mask, pulling the last ribbons free. She kept her back to him as she said softly, regretfully, "No, Prince, you won't."
And she walked away hurriedly into the night.
***
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Posted: Mon Oct 31, 2011 6:14 pm
It was difficult, but Ella removed all thoughts of Chase from her mind that night. She had other things to worry about.
Margot and she were waking their chosen leaders and leading them to one of the classrooms where they could talk without being seen or heard. It was nerve-racking, trying to creep around in such a large group, but eventually all eleven of them made it.
Ella started by saying, "If anyone has something against being a free girl, speak up now."
The chosen Green girl looked around and said, "Beggin' yer pardon, but seein' as we all agreed t'leave our beds a'th' hour af'er curfew, we shoul' all be a'willin' t'risk our lives fer our freedom."
The other girls nodded. Ella gazed around at the determined faces, felt a twinge of pride, and continued. "Then pay attention." She laid out her copy of the blueprint on the floor and gave the description of Chase's plan. When she was done, all girls looked nervous yet exhilarated. Here, for the first time, was a real chance at escape from the House.
"Now, I know it's not perfect," Ella said. "On our own we'd never be able to do it. But my Snake promises that his boys will get us out of there. So, with that in mind, are there any questions?"
A girl in orange spoke. "What you want for us to do is to tell the others to calm down and follow us, we know what's going on, correct?"
Ella nodded, and a girl in yellow spoke. "What about those who don't speak English?"
Ella looked at her with respect. "Good thinking, I forgot about that. What languages do we have here?"
The Purple girl counted off on her fingers. "Spanish is a big one. An' there's one Dutchie. Plus a couple girls speaking French, and one girl speaking German."
One by one girls spoke up. A Red spoke Spanish. A Blue spoke a little Dutch. A Purple spoke French and a Yellow spoke a few words in German. Ella smiled with relief. They'd look out for those girls.
A girl in black asked the next question. "What about food? What's going to happen the rest of that day?"
Ella and Margot looked at each other. Ella shrugged. "I don't know about the rest of the day. But as for food..." She looked around. "I know that not all the colors will have had their turn for breakfast yet. So those who did have breakfast – that will be the Reds, and the Oranges, and a few of us Yellows – try to pack some extra food for the rest. We'll look out for ourselves."
"With that in mind," asked a forty-year-old in brown, "what should we take with us?"
"Nothing," Margot said, "nothing but the food." She raised her hand to stem the whispers that rose in response. "Think about it. Nothing here belongs to us anyway. Anything we had once, we have been separated from. We'll leave here with the clothes on our backs and the food, and nothing more."
Ella sensed nervousness persisting in the atmosphere, and she fought to quell it. "My Snake assures me that we will be taken care of. He says that they will respect us and help us to survive. We won't want any more than we do now."
It was a risky plan, but in the end all the girls agreed. It was the best chance, the only chance, they had.
One by one, they went back upstairs, traveling alone to avoid chances of getting caught. Eventually, only Margot and Ella were left in the room. Ella turned to Margot and smiled. "Get some sleep. It's your last night in captivity."
Margot wrapped an arm around Ella's shoulders. "Look at you! You know, when I first met you, I never would have thought that you would become our optimistic leader to victory. It didn't seem that you cared." She smiled into her face. "But I knew I was wrong. You're getting us out of here, Ella."
Ella hesitated, then wrapped her arm around Margot's waist. "Honestly, if you hadn't supported me, I would have turned that Snake in. There's so much that can go wrong."
"But with your Snake's help, we're guaranteed to win," Margot insisted. "We're never going to have to sleep with Fellows ever again, and it's thanks to you for trusting your instincts."
Glowing with the praise, Ella looked away. "You would have been better for this."
Margot brought her other arm around Ella and forced her into a hug. "No, Ella, I never would have been as clever as you. I'm just happy to help you." She buried her face in Ella's shoulder. "We're going to be happy together. I know it."
Ella could say nothing. She could only give in to the hug and smile.
***
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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Nov 02, 2011 2:25 pm
When Ella woke up the next morning, her heart was racing. And it never stopped.
Today was the day. She thought about it as she dressed, thought about it as she bent to the task of mending, thought about it as the co-conspirator girl in yellow woke up and gave her a friendly nod. Today was the day. Her last day here, forever.
Her hands shook slightly as she pulled the needle in and out of the dress she was mending. She stabbed her finger a couple times and almost cursed, clutching it. She didn't want anyone to see her sewing so terribly; she was usually so careful. She shouldn't be this nervous. Everything would work. Everything had to work.
She sewed. She glanced around at all the girls. All the Yellows in her room were awake now. The younger ones would probably be out dusting some room somewhere, or scrubbing the floors. Would they be able to get them all out? Would anyone panic and run to Stepmother for protection? Some were young enough to, not having learned the ways of the House yet. The girls who had just been brought in a few weeks ago; would they leave quietly? Ella reviewed the plan over and over in her mind and worried over every detail. So many things could go wrong. There were so many things she had forgotten.
Finally, a girl in black stuck her head in to tell her group that the kitchens were ready to give them breakfast. It was nearing five o'clock. Shakily, Ella stood with the others and walked quietly toward the kitchens. She passed girls in all colors, hungry and working hard. She passed girls she had met with the night before and tried hard not to look at them. She walked down the hallway, and realized that the way to the kitchens was nearly identical to that of the garage. Would they run into conflict with the men before the garage raiders arrived? What happened if –
A hall clock chimed five.
Crash! The noise echoed in three points around the House. Instantly a high-pitched siren filled the hallways. One of Stepmother's men must have pressed a panic button.
Ella's racing heart leapt into her ears and pounded, demanding action. But she thought about all the girls, and the fear that was in their faces, and she forced herself to breathe, to move slowly. The conspirator Yellow was looking at her. Ella nodded.
The girl in yellow lifted her head and yelled, "All Yellows behind me! I know what's going on, I'll get you out!" She grabbed the hands of the two youngest yellows. "Make sure everyone starts walking this way! We're getting outside as quickly and as quietly as possible!"
Ella smiled grimly. Margot knew what she was doing, choosing this girl. She joined her. "Everything will be okay! Just walk towards the garage! It's the nearest exit!" She broke into a run, weaving through the crowds of girls to get to the front. "Keep going, it'll be fine once you get out!" she cried as she passed them. "Just follow us!"
She had thought of a solution to one of the problems. A broom closet. She needed a broom closet. Racing ahead, she slid to a halt in front of the nearest one. Wrenching it open, she reached in and started to pull out anything with a long handle. She handed off a mop to the conspirator Yellow and grabbed a broom for herself. "Just in case we run into trouble. And the girls will be able to see it above everyone's heads." The Yellow nodded and took it in a firm grip.
Together they led the girls out in a quiet, though fearful, parade. Ella picked up her stride as they neared a corner. She couldn't hear any noises immediately ahead; that meant the man that was stationed there hadn't experienced any conflict yet. "I'm going around the corner first," she said. "Stop them." The Yellow nodded and halted, holding out her arm and her mop to stop the Yellows' advance. Ella turned the corner at a run.
The man wheeled around, club in hand. The alarm had unsettled him and he didn't care what damage he did to any threatening looking creature – and Ella was threatening as she ran towards him, broom handle raised. He brought his club up in an overhead swing towards her head, but she ducked under it and brought her broom thudding into his midriff. The breath wooshed out from his lungs, and she battered him across the head, leaving him senseless.
Ella stood, panting, looking down at his form. Somehow, it gave her an empty feeling. But she kicked his body against the wall where it would be out of the way and yelled, "Clear! Come on through!"
The Yellows pressed on. Down a hallway, and down one flight of stairs, they heard the echoes of other voices yelling throughout the house. As they hurried down another hall, they were nearing the second guard. Ella knew that she wouldn't be able to take another guard by surprise, so she turned to the girls over her shoulder. "All of you stay here. She..." she turned to the other Yellow.
"Adrian."
"Adrian and I are going on ahead to clear the way. Just stand still, and you'll be okay. We'll be back." She hefted her broom and turned to Adrian. "Can you take this?"
Adrian raised her mop. "Are you kidding?" And Ella smiled.
Running forward, they each moved to the opposite sides of the hallway. As they turned the corner they found the guard with his brass knuckles on and his club raised in his other hand, looking from side to side with a grim expression. As the approached he raised both hands, preparing to take them down.
They moved forward in a pincer movement, Adrian with her mop raised in an overhand swing and Ella with her mop swooped low in preparation for a backhand blow. Together they closed in, Adrian ducking the club as she struck his neck and Ella striking the hand with the brass knuckles useless with a numbing blow. He tried to bring up his club for retaliation, but Adrian brought her mop back and sent it slamming into his face, as Ella took his legs out from under him with a blow to the back of his knees. Both girls stepped back as he fell to a sitting position. He shook his head and attempted to stand.
Both Yellows stepped forward and struck his head in unison, and he fell.
Adrian turned to Ella. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?"
Ella chuckled grimly. "Let me guess, more than twelve years. Get the girls. We're close to the stairs. Then it's a short distance to the garage, but it's going to be crowded. I'm going ahead to make sure it's working." They turned and raced their separate ways.
Leaping over the stairs, Ella bent her knees to lessen the shock as she made her landing on the ground level. She wielded her broom, preparing for any men that were still in action.
Organized chaos greeted her. Men in uniforms she was not familiar with were standing against the walls, trying to create order. But the girls had already created their own order, heading out to the garage in their color groups. The Greens, Blues, and Purples were already there, with their leaders calling out, "We just have to get outside! Just follow me, that's all you have to do! It's okay!"
But there was something wrong, too. The kitchens were almost directly across from the garage. So where were the Reds and Oranges?
She entered the flood and began to fight against the current. She had to reach the kitchens. Something was wrong –
The kitchen doors flew open and red and orange colors began to walk out. But they were moving slowly – all except one, which was moving in a jerky, urgent manner. She battled her way towards it, and recognized it as she bumped straight into it. "Margot! What –"
Margot's eyes were dilated. She gripped Ella's dress in tight fists and gasped, "Don't let them eat the food!"
Ella stared at her. "The extra food? But –"
Margot sank to her knees, dragging Ella down with her. Her eyes were half-closed, but the pupils remained wide. "Stepmother... knew. Poison."
Ella could say nothing for a moment. Then words were tearing from her lips. "No one touch the food! Don't let them touch the food! It's poisoned, don't touch it!" She saw the horrified faces turn toward the kitchen and heard her cry being taken up by others. She turned to Margot. "How? No, don't talk, wait until we get outside."
Margot gasped. "I ¬– can't move."
A police raider had finally battled his way over to them. He knelt next to them. "What's going on?"
Ella's words came out in a rush. "The food's poisoned, they've eaten some of it, you have to do something, please!"
"Oi! We need a doctor, pronto!" he called over the crowd, and he stood, trying to create a path.
Ella laid Margot down, cradling her head in her lap to protect it from the feet of all the fleeing girls. "Don't worry, we'll get you better. How many others are poisoned?"
Margot swallowed and forced the words out. "All of us. All Reds and Oranges. We all had breakfast."
A man in a brown coat came battling through, and he knelt beside them. He began taking Margot's pulse, checking her eyes, testing her breathing, and Ella yelled at him, "You have to save her. You can do this, can't you? You're a doctor. You have to heal her!"
His face was horrified as he examined her. "It's been too long since consumption. I alone can't save her."
"Then how many doctors will it take?!" Ella screamed. "Please! I'll do anything! How many –"
"Ella!" Margot tried to sit up, gasped, and fell again. "Just... get to the others. You can save... some of the others."
Ella stroked Margot's hair away from her face, feeling the fevered sweat on her fingers. "It's okay, it'll be okay. We just need to get you out of here –"
But Margot had turned to the men kneeling with them. "The others – get the others. You can save some of them."
"We can save you, too!"
Margot gasped in pain as the men left. "I can't move, Ella. I can't feel my legs."
Ella felt tears and she shook her head angrily. "If you can just get outside, they'll have medicine, or –"
The flood of girls around them halted, then parted. They were making way for the raiders, who rushed through, and came running back, all accompanying an Orange or Red. Some girls, especially the smallest, had to be carried. One girl already appeared too still.
Ella tried to stand, tried to get Margot into that rushed exodus, but Margot moaned, "Don't move... me."
"I can't let you die!"
Margot convulsed, then a peace seemed to come over, and she breathed easier. But her eyes were glazing over. "You know, Ella," she whispered, "maybe it's better this way. Out there, where we'd all be free, no one would need me to take care of them anymore."
"I'd need you!" Ella screamed, and this time to tears flowed unchecked. "I needed you when my heart was solid, and I still need you now, when you've shown me how to love! I'll always need you!" She brushed a hand across Margot's face, felt the flooding sweat. "I can't do this without you, Margot. This is my fault. God, this is all my fault. If I hadn't listened to that Snake –!"
Margot's fists shot up and closed around her wrists. "Don't – EVER – say that!" she hissed. The pain began to return in slow waves and she gasped out the words. "Never – your – fault! We – we are free – because of you."
Ella bent over her face and kissed her forehead. It was so warm, too warm. "But it doesn't mean anything without you, Margot."
"It means... everything to the others," Margot smiled. She reached up with a violently shaking hand and tried to cradle Ella's face. "You are... so brave. Be brave, Ella."
"Don't leave me!" Ella screamed as the hand dropped. "Don't leave me! MARGOT!" Margot's eyes closed, and Ella lifted her in an embrace, cradling her head in her shoulder as she screamed her rage and grief.
***
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Posted: Wed Nov 02, 2011 6:23 pm
It was weeks before Ella learned that security cameras had killed Margot.
Ella was not aware that cameras could be used for such a purpose, but once she learned of them she cursed herself and her Snake for not thinking of it. Of course Stepmother had cameras in all the rooms, and of course they were equipped with auditory recording. That was how she had learned of the escape plan.
Unfortunately for Stepmother, she had not bothered putting cameras in the broom closets, or she would have learned of the plan soon enough to prevent it. But by the time she had learned about it, on the third and final night through the meeting in the classroom, there was nothing she could do to stop the police from coming. All she could do was take vengeance upon as many girls as possible in one last mad act.
And that was why Margot and thirteen others had died. The rest of the Reds and Oranges were gravely ill, but could be saved. As for the other colors, they were given medical attention, physically and mentally, and were given rooms to stay in at a boarding house the government rented for the purpose.
Ella was numb and unresponsive for most of those weeks. She ate, slept, and answered questions without acknowledging what she was doing. She ignored everyone around her, and when she slept, she dreamed of trees and birds and the ghosts of mothers and fathers and Margot.
Numbly, she collected the story of what had happened to her, though she felt it little mattered anymore. A woman named Veronica Salusbane had had her finger in many affairs, keeping an eye and ear out for unwanted pretty girls. Orphans, illegals, illegitimates, and other children who would have no one desperate for their return were perfect for her Family. She would send her men to snatch them up, out of the fields they were working in, as they were walking home from school – or from their parents' funerals, when no one was looking for them. And she became their Stepmother. Ella accepted this, accepted the lie she had been told the past twelve years that no one was there to care for her, and that Stepmother had been the only place to go. She was too preoccupied to care very much.
But there came a day when she came to terms with this new grief. She and other girls were assembled in a room. No longer organized by color, they wore whatever clothes they were given. Some were saved from the House, but most were donations, and Ella could no longer recognize the barriers between the Fetishes and the Maids, Teasers and Roleplays. They all fit under one name now: Victims.
A man walked into the room, a man with spectacles and a thin moustache and a greasy-sounding name. He introduced himself as Mr. Denouse, and he would be their legal representation. "To have a strong prosecution, we need witness testimonies," he said. "So, I have come to ask you if any of you would agree to testify in court."
Most of the girls didn't know what this meant, so he explained it; they were to sit in a chair in front of a group of people and tell what Stepmother had done to them. Their job would be to tell the truth and answer questions as well as possible.
Ella looked up for the first time in days. Something unsaid resounded in those words; testifying meant proving what Stepmother had done to these girls. Testifying meant protecting these girls from being hurt again by proving that they deserved being saved. She would represent these girls. She stood up, and her grief began to mend.
At the other end of the room, another girl stood, with trembling limbs but a high and proud head. Ella recognized her as the green girl, Clemencia. And she smiled with grim pride.
Being a witness was difficult. Ella grew to hate the slimy, oily ways of the lawyers. Once a day she sat in a room with Mr. Denouse; he asked her the same questions, over and over again, and she would answer them, over and over again. Sometimes he would tell her to change an answer to something he told her; it sounded "more forceful." Sometimes he would tell her to leave a detail out; "they don't need to know that." Occasionally, he would demand more information, and she would give it, and he would smile like he had won a prize.
She soon realized that this question-and-answer routine, when recited in front of the jury and judge, were meant more to persuade than to present. To her, this was ridiculous; there was no question that Stepmother was guilty. All she wanted to do was show how guilty she was. But she did what the lawyers wanted.
While the lawyers were coaching her, she was attending other lessons as well. All the girls were now in "school," grouped together based on what little they remembered of the outside world. Ella vaguely remembered school from when she was eight years old, and vaguely remembered her dreams of having a job and a family when she was grown up. Now, she was twenty years old, studying basic math and history and science from textbooks that used a gigantic font size and big, colorful pictures. But she was learning, and she and the other girls soaked it all in like sponges. They were fast learners – they had to be, under Stepmother – and they were eager to pick up the pieces of what they had once known.
Occasionally, Ella saw other girls she recognized. But where once she would have ignored them and studied on her own, she began to steer back towards them. She did homework with Adrian sometimes and she helped Clemencia when she was once close to tears from frustration. And one day a girl around her age asked her to join a study group. It was through "school" that Ella began to open up to the other girls, to love them.
Love them as Margot had.
***
"Your Honor, Prosecution would like to call Ella to the stand."
Ella's face burned with shame when the judge asked, "What is the witness's full name, counsel?"
"Your Honor, she no longer remembers her last name, having not used it or heard it since she was a child, as I shall prove in questioning."
There was a murmur among the jury. Ella clenched her fist to keep from shooting them a look of disgust. What did they think this was, a drama? Ooh, look, how traumatic, she doesn't know her name!
But court was a drama, she reminded herself as she walked up to the stand. And it was time to play her part.
Questions were fired at her and she fired answers back. Her name was Ella. She had been a member of the Family since she was kidnapped at eight years old. She was a prostitute, she didn't know how many men she had been raped by, she remembered every incident. After every clipped answer, she gave a brief reply and so outlined her life's story in tragic, yet cold detail.
Routine questions were breezed over. Now her lawyer sat down, and cross examination began.
The opposing counsel was a young man with a greedy look in his eye. As he stood, Ella was finally forced to look at his client, Stepmother, who was sitting next to him. Her black hair was still arranged elaborately. Her chin was still high. Her dress still outfit her station. Yet there was something about the eyes that seemed different. She was no longer in control of her empire. She was a little... unhinged.
Ella looked away and back at the new lawyer, who was shuffling his notes and addressing her. "Good afternoon, Miss Ella."
She said nothing.
He leapt into his attack, and she leapt right back at him. No, she did not believe that there was anyone else who would take care of her. No, she did not think she had any other choice. But no, she did not agree to be a prostitute. The first time she was given to a Fellow, she was unknowingly sold under the category of Rape. No, she did not try to escape after the first time. But it was because she was afraid of Stepmother. No, she did not try to resist each Fellow. But she knew that if she did, it would mean no food, and maybe a beating! She wanted to resist! Yes, she did what Stepmother wanted, but it was so she could survive!
"Your Honor," the lawyer asked in exasperation, "would you please tell the witness to answer just 'yes' or 'no?'"
"But what good will that do?!" Ella demanded hotly before the judge could reply. "Either way, Stepmother is still guilty!"
"Your Honor, the witness is clearly displaying a contempt for the judicial system," the lawyer said haughtily.
"The only contempt I have is for you, agreeing to defend her!" Ella cried, pointing at Stepmother. "She kidnapped us, had us raped, killed us –"
Stepmother rose to her feet, an icy glare to her eyes. The judge was demanding order and the jury was going crazy. As her lawyer ran back to their table, telling her to sit down, she ignored him, and focused instead on Ella. "You're a bad girl, Ella," she said, coldly. "You're a very bad girl."
Ella froze. She knew that look, and knew those words, and knew the carving knife and the bucket and the bloody feet that came with them.
"I'm sorry, Stepmother," she whispered. And she put her face in her hands.
"Your Honor, the defendant's presence is obviously having a traumatic effect on my witness," Mr. Denouse cried over the noise. "I move that they be kept separated –"
"I agree," the judge said. "This court has seen too much for today. We will continue tomorrow, and the witnesses for the defense and prosecution will not be present for each other's testimony."
The gavel pounded, and people began to move. Ella dimly heard the judge telling her to step down, but she was staring at Stepmother through her hands. As the other woman rose haughtily to her feet to leave, anger swelled in Ella's breast, overcoming her terror, and she stood as well. "I'm sorry, Stepmother, that you're disappointed," she said, "because you should have seen this coming all along!"
After months, the court found Veronica Salusbane guilty on all charges.
***
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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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Jenivere-the-bard Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 5:03 pm
Ella Smith came to two conclusions: one, Vermont was the coldest place she had ever been to. Two, and related to the first, Witness Protection Services had their priorities seriously screwed up.
It was five years since Ella had worn the color yellow. After the trials were over, she and all the girls were put under Witness Protection to protect their identities. Ella, for her part, had no idea why this was necessary; unless Stepmother escaped from jail, no one was going to hunt her down and hurt her. But she had little choice in the matter. She was handed a booklet of papers with her new identity; she was to live in Vermont, she would have a steady job with a respectable employer, she would have a new name.
When she read that her new name was to be Sarah Conin, she put her foot down. Marching to Mr. Denouse's office, she threw the papers on his desk and demanded the right to keep her own name. "It's for your own protection," he had argued. "Besides, you don't remember your last name anyway."
"My name is Ella!" she had screamed at him. "Ella is my name! For God's sake, out of everything I've lost, let me keep at least that!"
So her name was Ella Smith, Vermont resident, assistant to a middle-aged black-haired woman named Georgia who ran a discount shoe store. She had been shipped out to her new location without being given a chance to say goodbye to the other girls. But now that Margot was a memory that she could carry everywhere, so too were the other girls, and Ella said nothing as she left them behind.
Five years later, not much in her life had changed. Each morning she rose in her small, undecorated apartment, ate a basic breakfast – sometimes, if she felt like spoiling herself, with margarine on her bread – and went to work. She shelved boxes of shoes, took shoes off shelves, put them back, and served customers when Georgia was busy. She ate her packed lunch at one, and resumed working, measuring people's feet, bringing them shoes, measuring them again, putting the shoes back, and stocking the shelves when Georgia was busy. She went home, cleaned her apartment, bought her groceries, ate a basic dinner, and went to bed.
One day, Ella was taking inventory of children's sneakers in the back room when Georgia came in. "There's a customer here who asked specifically for you."
Ella sighed. Customers asking for her specifically had become more of a nuisance than anything else. In this small Vermont town, eligible men of all ages still picked up on her quickly. During the first couple years, she had been shaking from head to toe while serving them, but when no one asked her to take her green sweater off, she slowly realized that they were not her masters; they were her annoyances. Just give them the shoes, nod to their "winning" smiles, and walk away. This didn't make them a joy to serve, but it kept her from trembling as she walked out to deal with this next one.
He took her by surprise. No older than early or mid thirties, he wore a modest suit. His skin was tan and hair sandy blonde, bringing to mind an old memory of beaches and sunshine. His eyes were a furtive dusty blue, and in his hands he was holding a pair of glass shoes.
Ella stopped walking so fast she almost fell over. Grabbing a shelf for balance, she caused a shoebox to fall, and so attracted his attention. The smile that lit his face was the smile of a man who has found his greatest treasure. "Hi, Cinderella."
"Oh, my god!" she gasped, putting a hand to her heart. "Chase! Why are you here?!"
He softly put the shoes down on a bench and walked over to her, taking her hands in his. "I've been looking for you."
She looked up quizzically into his face. "Not that I'm not glad to see you or anything, but why? Why suddenly come looking for me?"
"Not suddenly," he said, his face glowing red even as he smiled wider. "I've been looking for you ever since... that night. It's taken me this long to get through your securities, you're the hardest nut to crack I've ever –"
Ella tore her hands away and stepped back. "Wait, slow down, Prince. You've been looking for me for five years?"
He nodded, stepping forward and taking her hands again. "Like I said, you're the hardest nut I've ever tried to crack."
"But how'd you find me?"
He nodded his head over his shoulder at the glass slippers. "You left them behind when you ran away that night. And when I looked at them, I realized that you'd worn them so often, that they had your footprint embedded in the soles. I was able to use that and some scant traces of DNA that came from that to track you down. It was hard, though; they have some pretty tough barriers around you."
Ella nodded. "But you did say you were best at getting yourself through those. I guess this proves it."
He shrugged. "It's my job."
"But this isn't," Ella said, "so I'll ask again. Why did you look for me?"
"I told you I'd find you, didn't I?" He chuckled. "Ironic, that I used shoes to hunt you down, and hear I find you in a shoe store."
"Prince, listen," she persisted, "five years is a long time to look for someone. Why on Earth would you spend five years looking for me?"
"Isn't it obvious?" When she shook her head, he lifted one hand to touch her cheek, lightly. "I love you."
She jerked, forcefully, pulling herself free of his grip and grabbing his uplifted wrist in a tight fist. "You can't be. Prince, you knew me as an informer for three nights."
He shook his head, and his smile grew sad. "No, Cinderella, I knew you as an informer for a few short hours. For the last two nights, you were more than that to me. Can't you see that?"
She stared into his eyes. "But... What good was I to you, except for that?"
"This was why I didn't want you to come out into the world alone," he said, taking her hand once more. "Ella, out here, girls aren't measured for their potential profit. I value you as a person, an enchanting young woman who makes me laugh at myself and think beyond the boundaries."
Ella closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. "I still don't understand, Prince. I mean, five years..."
"That should prove my meaning," he said. "I love you, Ella."
As Ella looked up into his face, examined his trusting eyes, took in the questioning turn of his mouth, she realized something, saw a greater truth than she had yet discovered.
His love was like a glass slipper. She could put the slipper on and walk, and risk it shattering beneath her. Or she could leave it alone, untouched, and run.
[[FINALLY the end!]]
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