Chapter 2
The door to the processing room slams shut behind me with a sound like a coffin closing. Inside, the air is thick with bleach and fear. Bright fluorescent lights buzz overhead, so harsh they make my skin look almost blue. A female guard stands in the corner, arms crossed, face blank as stone. Two male guards wait near the wall, one older with gray in his beard, the other younger, eyes already hungry. They don't hide it. They never do.
"Clothes off," the woman says. Her voice is flat, bored, like she's done this a thousand times today. "Everything. Now."
I lift my chin and meet her stare. My fingers find the hem of my dress, the same soft cotton one I wore to the party that night, the one that got me framed. The fabric is wrinkled, stained with dirt from the van, clinging where sweat has turned it damp. I pull it up slowly, inch by inch, letting the material slide over my thighs, my hips, my stomach. The air hits my skin and raises goosebumps. I hear the younger guard swallow. Loud.
I drop the dress to the floor. It pools around my feet like spilled milk. No bra. No panties. The night had been warm, and I'd dressed for freedom, not a cage. Now that choice feels like a gift. Let them see. Let them remember.
The woman guard steps forward with plastic gloves. She snaps them on with sharp cracks. "Arms up. Turn." Her hands move quick and cold across my shoulders, under my arms, along my sides. She doesn't linger. She's professional. The men, though—they don't even pretend. The older one leans against the wall, eyes tracing the curve of my waist, the swell of my breasts, the dip of my spine. The younger one shifts his weight, fingers flexing at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach out.
I turn slowly, giving them the full view. My hair falls long down my back, dark waves brushing the top of my hips. I can feel their stares like heat on my skin. One of them breathes faster. I don't look at them. I don't need to. I already know the effect. Beauty has always been my sharpest knife, and right now it's cutting deep.
"Open your mouth," the woman says. I do. She shines a light inside, checks my tongue, my gums. Then she moves lower. "Squat and cough." I obey. The position is humiliating on purpose. Designed to break you before you even start your sentence. But I don't shake. I don't blush. I hold the squat steady, thighs strong, eyes fixed on the wall. The younger guard makes a small sound in his throat. I smile inside. Good boy.
She finishes the search. "Stand." I rise smoothly, graceful, like the movement was my idea. The dress stays on the floor. They don't tell me to pick it up yet. They want me naked a little longer. Fine. Naked is powerful when you own it.
The older guard finally speaks. His voice is rough, like gravel. "You're gonna have a fun time here, sweetheart. Plenty of men waiting to make your acquaintance." He smiles. It isn't kind.
I turn my head just enough to look at him over my shoulder. My eyes are calm. My voice comes out soft, almost sweet. "I hope so. I like making friends."
The younger one laughs, short and nervous. The older one's smile slips a fraction. The woman guard snorts once, then tosses me an orange jumpsuit that smells like cheap detergent. "Get dressed. You'll get your real uniform tomorrow."
I step into the jumpsuit. The fabric is stiff, too big in the shoulders, too short in the legs. It hangs loose everywhere except where it pulls tight across my chest and hips. Even this ugly thing can't hide what's underneath. I zip it up slowly, letting the sound fill the silence. When I'm done, I smooth my hair back with both hands, lift my chin, and look at each of them in turn.
The older guard clears his throat. "Move."
They lead me out into the corridor. The door opens to a long hallway lit by more buzzing lights. Echoes bounce off concrete. Somewhere far away, a man laughs. Another shouts. And I feel it—the weight of eyes again. Not just these guards. The whole place is watching. Waiting.
I walk between them, steps light, shoulders back. The jumpsuit may be ugly, but my smile isn't. It's small, sharp, full of secrets.
Because I've already decided something important.
These men think they're going to take.
They have no idea I came here to collect.
And I'm starting tonight.