Hold Me Never (Holding Never) (17 page)

The last place I should feel safe in.

“
Jaxon,” I say in a broken whisper. “You.
I want it...to be you.”

I stare at the door, willing it to open, willing Jaxon
to come to me, to come for me.

Quietly, I rock myself and start to hum. The warbling
tune that escapes from between my pursed lips is the same tune that
Hani had hummed the last time we were together in this cell.

I suddenly recognize the tune.

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you...Happy
Birthday to...Zoey, Happy Birthday to...me.

At the end of my birthday song, I start and hiccup a
laugh, or a sob.

Is it...could it be...my birthday today?

My eighteenth birthday.

Who'd have thought.

I think of Emilia and the rest of the girls back at the
factory. I think of Hani and the blond girl. They may be alive or
they may be dead. No one knows. I may still be alive now, but I may
be dead tomorrow.

It may be my birthday today, but it may be my last
birthday.

With a deep, steadying breath, I get up and put the tray
away. Very carefully, I fold Hani's blanket and smooth it at the top
of her mattress. I pat down her mattress, smoothing away the creases
and dusting away bits of crumbs and dirt. Turning back to my own
mattress, I do the same to neaten up my own corner.

When I finish, I stand with my back against the door and
look at her neat, empty mattress for a long time.

If I have to die, then so be it. That is not what I
want, but I can't help that.

But before I die, there is something, someone that I
want. That will be my birthday present to myself. I will give
myself this, if it is the last thing I do.

I smile through fresh tears. He has lied for me. Now
it is my turn.

Funny how the absolute sense of loss and hopelessness
can trigger a kind of reckless resolve. When you feel that you have
nothing else to lose, you actually gain something. A different
perspective, a wild abandon. And you draw upon your last reserves of
bravado.

In truth, I still have something to lose, and I intend
to lose that pretty quickly. But on my terms.

When I finally hear the beep followed by the creaking,
whirring sound at my back, I step away and turn around slowly. My
eyes are dry and clear.

Mam Mallisa stands at the door, dressed in what looks
like a leotard with sequins. She regards me for an instant, with a
brief flicker of concern in her eyes. I squint at her, and her
expression hardens. I exhale sharply as she crooks a finger at me.
I must have misread her expression. That was contempt, not concern.

I square my shoulders and walk out of my cell to find
the other girls already moving warily along the corridor towards the
stairs in single file.

“
Dance lesson,” Mam Mallisa trills as she
shoves her way towards the head of the line. “Today, I shall
be teaching you girls a new dance. It is a very exotic, sensual
dance. You don't have much time to master the steps, so please pay
attention and concentrate. You will be measured for your costumes
later. Now...” she says in a happy, lilting voice and
flounces up the steps. “Shall we dance?”

We pass the Grooming Room, which is not lit up like a
circus for once. The Grooming Room is dark and quiet, with no
Matrons mopping and washing and getting everything ready for
grooming. With impatient commands from Mam Mallisa, we are herded
into that industrial sized lift once more. I force my eyes to the
control panel and figure out that there are as many floors
underground as there are above ground. As above, so below. It makes
me wonder what is on the top floor. Whose cell or chamber is up
there?

The lift door opens at the floor just below the ground
floor. Mam Mallisa strides out into a spacious mirrored room and
snaps on the fluorescent lights. Her leotard shimmers and throws
rainbow colored light into our eyes. But all the sequins and shimmer
in the world cannot mask her figure, or lack thereof. She is so thin
that she has no curves at all. Without her puffy sleeves and skirts,
her arms and legs are like sticks. She moves with practiced, precise
steps, but without her high heels, she cuts a wizened, weak figure.
Under her thick makeup, I can see that her complexion is the color of
ash. Her hair has been dyed pink today, to match her lipstick. I
can't help but wonder who or what the real Mam Mallisa is. Who is
she when all these bright paints and dyes have been removed? What
does she look like? Unrecognizable to be sure.

Is she even alive?

Her shrill voice cuts into my thoughts. “Get into
your starting positions, and follow me. Watch and learn. And move
in time to the music, please.”

Everyone starts to dance—or rather, simply mimic
the movements of Mam Mallisa. The dance involves a lot of kneeling,
thrusting out our chests, gyrating our hips and spreading our legs.
I have no doubt what our costumes will look like. The fabric will be
non-existent and the holes will be loud and gaping. Hardly anything
will be left to the imagination. Less is more. Lewd is in.

“
Now, from the top. Five, six, seven, eight...”
she shouts.

I go through the motions stupidly, refusing to look at
my reflection. This is not a dance. Dancing is poetry, a beauty to
behold, a gift from the dancer to the audience. But I am not giving
anything. The audience that we will be dancing for deserves nothing.
I will give nothing of myself to them.

I bite down hard on my lip, shutting out the
accompanying music. This is no dance, and that is no music. It is
a sound from hell. There is no beauty or rhythm at all to that
twisting melody, which rises and falls to eerie sighs and moans in
the background.

Giddy and nauseated, I move with the rest of the girls,
trying my best not to spin out of control and collapse.

What feels like a few tortuous hours finally come to an
end. We are all hot and sweaty, tired and fidgety. When the lift
door grinds open behind us, Mam Mallisa lifts her head sharply and
snaps, “Yes! What is it?” A Matron bows and scurries
over to Mam Mallisa with a note in her shaking hand.

I flop to the floor, fighting not to retch, as Mam
Mallisa snatches the note from the Matron and reads it. Abruptly,
she looks up to see me kneeling on the floor, pushing my wet hair
away from my face. All the other girls have remained standing.

“
You! Yes, you! Get up! Get up this instant!”
she screeches.

I struggle up, dusting myself off quickly. “I'm
up,” I mumble.

She narrows her eyes at me. Her mouth opens and closes,
as she twirls the note in her fingers. “No, stay. You won't
have to go,” she tells the Matron, who is waiting nervously
behind her. “I'll send her instead.”

Lifting her chin, she points a thin finger at me and
orders, “Go down to the Grooming Room and get all the Matrons
up here to measure the girls. Go. Now!”

I curtsey deeply, exaggeratedly. “Yes, Mam
Mallisa.”

I enter the elevator, and press the door shut. My
finger lingers on the panel. On impulse, I press the top button.

What the heck. I'm damned anyway. I'm going to find
out what is on the top floor.

I feel the lift start to rise, and I am suddenly seized
with panic and doubt. What if...what if what? I don't know what I'm
going to find. Or who is going to find me.

I'll get in big trouble, sure. But Mam Mallisa doesn't
have the authority to have me killed. She doesn't even have the
authority to have me whipped. Of that I'm sure. In fact she needs
us to be perfect.

That's her job. Grooming us for their perverse
pleasure.

The lift door opens and I hesitate just a couple of
heartbeats before tiptoeing out of the lift.

I don't make it more than a few steps out into the dim,
carpeted hallway when I run smack into a solid chest.

I smell his scent before I even see his face.

“
What are you doing here?”

I look up at Jaxon's stern face, and see my own shock
reflected in his brown eyes.

Stumbling back, I answer as calmly as I can, “I...I've
come to look for you.”

His brows lift, before creasing in a frown.

“
Yeah, I...” I gulp and hurry on before I
lose my nerve. “It's my birthday today. And you...are my
birthday present!”

As soon as I blurt out the words, my eyes round in
mortification. What in the world did I just say? What will he think
of me?

He stares at me for a long time. I wait for some trace
of anger to appear on his face, but instead, his features melt into a
tender, aching expression.

“
I...I should go...” I mumble and turn away.

“
Wait.” His hand moves to his breast
pocket, the one over his heart. He takes something out and holds out
his fist.

“
Give me your hand,” he says softly.

Confused, I stretch out my hand to him. He takes it and
turns it over, palm up. With a quiet sigh, he drops something small
into the middle of my palm.

I gasp.

“
This...this...where...how?” I choke.

In my hand is a small, aquamarine stud earring. It
winks in my hand, like it is sharing a secret with me.

“
This...” I gape at him. “This is my
mother's earring! My dad gave it to her, before he...”

He nods and closes my fingers firmly over it.

“
How...” I start.

“
I went back.”

“
What?”

“
That night, after they dragged me away, and
after...” He swallows hard. “I went back to the same
spot. I don't know why I went back. I wasn't sure what I would
find. But...as I was being dragged away, I looked into a young
girl's eyes. I saw her, I saw what she saw, and I just wanted to
make sure that she was... safe.” This last word is barely a
whisper. “I was there a long time. It was almost morning when
I saw this. I hoped that I would one day be able to return it...to
you.”

“
Me...?” I clasp my mother's earring to my
heart. The tiny gemstone is clean and polished, glittering
beautifully as it used to do on my mother's lovely, delicate earlobe,
setting off the light blue of her eyes. Jaxon has obviously cleaned
it and taken great care of it. There is not a trace of stain or rust
on the silver post and clutch. I blink back tears, as I picture my
mother's warm, smiling face. She would have wanted this. She would
have wanted me to have it.

I stare up at Jaxon, my breath hitching. “You...know
me. You remember me.”

“
Happy birthday, Zoey.”

“
Did you know all along?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “I felt...a connection, when
I first saw you. I couldn't place it, but it just grew stronger. It
was only when I saw you enter the Palace, and you turned around and
looked at me, that I saw you, and I saw what you saw. I saw...your
face, your eyes, your expression...” His eyes close as if in
pain. “It was the same face I saw as I was being dragged away.
In my agony, I saw an angel. I looked straight into the face of an
angel as she walked into hell.”

I release a ragged breath and murmur, “I am not an
angel. I couldn't save her. I couldn't save anyone.”

He tilts my chin up gently with his thumb and
forefinger. In his deep, brown eyes, I see myself as he sees me.
Young, pure, brave, strong and beautiful.

Taking my hand, he lifts the tiny earring from my palm
and asks, “Will you let me put this on for you?”

I nod.

Smoothing my hair back behind my ear, his finger brushes
against the outer curve of my ear. I shudder at the contact, feeling
the heat spread down my body. Bending down, he takes my soft earlobe
between his fingers and threads the earring through. Fastening the
clutch behind my ear, he breathes out shakily, his warm breath on my
neck. He cups the side of my face with his hand and gazes down at
me.

“
Beautiful.”

His eyes drink me in, searching my face, seeing the face
he remembers, and remembering the face that is now before him.

I blush deeply and look away.

“
You said...you're here for your present.”
A lopsided smile is playing on his lips.

“
Huh?”

“
And what is that?”

“
It...” I feel my face turning hotter and
redder. I'm not sure if he heard me the first time. Maybe I'm mad,
but I am determined not to bail from this. I gulp a deep breath and
say in a clear but tremulous voice, “You.”

Jaxon stills completely.

His eyes darken with an emotion I cannot read. In fact,
there seems to be too many emotions rippling in the depths of his
brown eyes. The fire in his eyes blazes into an inferno, a deadly,
fiery maelstrom of raw passion and conflict.

“
You lied for me, Jaxon,” I whisper. “But—I
don't want it to be a lie.”