When I got out of the car, the air was dead silent. The inside felt more like a castle than a house. High walls, black doors, perfect order. Everything was too clean. Too planned. Too… dangerous. The young man who answered the door was tall, with black hair slicked back, his eyes intent. "Mr. Moreau is expecting you," he said. His voice held more sincerity than respect. I would later learn that he was Jack's right-hand man. His name was Ethan. He let me in. Standing in the middle of the living room, against the wide windows, was the same man: Jack Moreau.
His hands in his pockets, he watched the rain outside. He spoke, even though he couldn't hear me. "How old are you?" "Twenty-three." "Good. You're going to live with me now, and you have to do whatever I say." "What do you mean?" I asked. He met my gaze. "Sit." I wanted to disobey, but my knees wouldn't listen. When I sat down, he placed a file on the table. "The rules are simple. You will not leave the house without permission, you will not leave your assigned room. You will only come when I call. You will not ask questions." I frowned. "I am not your slave." His smile changed. "No," he said quietly. "You are payment for the debt, and you are mine; you belong to me now." Ethan looked at me for a moment, as if to say, "Shut up." But the anger that had been building up inside me boiled over. "You can't buy me!" I said. Jack moved closer. We were only a few inches apart. There was no threat in his eyes… just cold certainty. "I bought you," he whispered. And he was so close I could feel his breath. "I can even change your name if I want. I determine who you are now." I realized then how helpless I was. Shouting and running wouldn't work; everything was signed, everything was sealed. Jack turned to me and called to Ethan. "Take him upstairs to his room." Ethan nodded. My heart was pounding as I climbed the stairs. My freedom was slipping away with every step. When I reached my room, Ethan turned to me and said, "I want to tell you one thing, Miss Lina. Don't you dare break Mr. Moreau's rules or overstep his bounds. If you want to live, remember these words." Then he turned and left.
When the door slammed shut, a strange silence hung inside me; I couldn't cry, couldn't scream. I just stared at the walls; everything was sparkling clean, but beneath that gleam, there was a coldness. How was I going to live with this man? What was I going to do? A man I didn't know, a house I didn't know. What was I supposed to do? In that moment, everything seemed lost; everything was over for me. There was only a man I didn't know and a life I'd sold out.