Ramona stares at me some more. I’m probably blushing—I’ve never been manhandled like a piece of meat before. Hopefully the woman’s taking my rosy glow as embarrassment over my confession to her. “You never been touched by a boy? Ever?” she asks.

I shake my head.

Ramona tosses the face cloth back into the sink with a wet splash, tutting under her breath. “Put the dress on anyway. I’ll be back in a moment.” She leaves me, naked and shivering, wondering if I’ve done the right thing or if I’ve just made things infinitely worse for myself. I have no clean underwear, so I climb into the pale yellow dress without any. The thing is a frou-frou monstrosity, all ruffles and pleats. There’s even a satin bow that ties just under the bust line. I tie it, all the while wondering if the strand of ribbon is long enough to hang myself with if it comes down to it. I wasn’t joking back in the van; I would rather die than be violated by a bunch of strange men.

Twenty minutes pass. I sit on the edge of the bed, counting my heartbeats. It’s strange that the treacherous organ in my ribcage insists on skipping along so steadily, when it seems as though the intensity of my fear should have stopped it dead by now. I hear voices after a while—loud ones—and then the thunder of boot steps out in the corridor. The door rattles as the key is fumbled, inserted, twisted, opened, and then Hector, Raphael and Ramona storm one by one into the room. Raphael’s face is twisted into a rictus of rage. Hector simply looks like he’s being inconvenienced.

“Lie back on the bed,” he says.

I lock my ankles together, my arms clamped firmly around my body. “No.”

Hector laughs, looking at Raphael. “You always bring the spirited ones back, huh?”

“She’s not a fucking virgin, Hector. No way. She’s lying.”

“And why would she do that?” he asks softly. “I’m presuming you didn’t tell her of our business here?”

The creases in Raphael’s face deepen. “No,” he admits.

“Then the girl is probably a virgin.” He turns back to me, walks over to the bed, and places a hand on top of my head. I cower from his touch, which seems to displease him. He grabs hold of my chin in one hand, lifting my face so I’m looking up at him. “Lie back on the bed, sweet girl, or I’m going to make you. And I don’t want to have to do that, because I don’t want to hurt you, you see. Do as you’re told and I’ll be quick. I promise.”

My tears return, blurring out the world. Maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t want to see their faces as I slowly lie back down onto the bed. Hector throws back the skirts of the yellow dress, and I bite back a cry of shame. His hands are cold. They push my legs apart, and then his strong, thick fingers are investigating, parting the folds of my flesh, demanding entry.

I start to sob. I should have thought of this. Centuries ago, they used to confirm a maiden’s virtue before she could be sold off to a husband. And now Hector is going to find out I’ve lied to him, and I’m going to pay the price. I should have just kept my mouth shut. I cry out as Hector’s finger probes deeper inside me. It hurts. The horror of my situation has my whole body clenched tight, locked up and rigid, which makes what Hector is doing to me pinch and burn even more.

I hold my breath, my fingernails cutting into the skin of my palms as I wait for it to be over. For him to call me liar. For more pain to arrive. I’m praying for Matt to come in here and save me, but he won’t. He can’t. No one can.

“She’s telling the truth,” Hector announces. What? I can’t…it takes a moment to register what he’s saying. He believes me? He withdraws his finger from inside me, and even that stings. Lifting his hand, he takes his index finger and slowly slides it into his mouth. “She’s sweet, too. She has a sweet pussy.”

My stomach roils, making dark threats. If I had absolutely anything left inside me, I would throw it up all over the bed.

Hector gives Raphael a conciliatory slap on the shoulder. “You know the rules, my friend. Virgins belong to me. Maybe next time you should fuck them before you bring them home, huh? That way there would be no doubt.” Raphael’s lips are pulled back into an ugly sneer.

“Hector, she is mine! I—” Hector snaps his right hand out, backhanding Raphael across the cheek. It probably didn’t hurt all that much, but the action silences Raphael in an instant.

“I don’t repeat myself for anybody, Raphi. You know that. Please, remember yourself.” Raphael clenches his jaw. He nods once, staring the older man directly in the eye. Hector ignores him; he faces Ramona, maintaining a cool, effortless calm. “Get some pictures taken. Post them immediately. Make sure she gets sent to one of the cartels. I don’t want her opening her mouth about the judge to any of our other clients. Highest bidder wins out. I want her gone within twenty-four hours.” He storms out of the room, wafting a sickly sweet cloud behind him as he goes. I close my legs slowly, pushing down the layers of the dress, crying silently.

I’m to be sold. Like a piece of meat, an object, nameless and unimportant, I am going to be sold.

ALEXIS

Ramona disappears and comes back a while later with a small point-and-shoot digital camera. I’m less than compliant when she tells me she wants to take photos of me. I start kicking and screaming, and she counters my refusal with two heavy set women, who hurry into the room and pin me down on the bed while she forces something—a pill—down my throat.