Page 9 of Bishop

"What the hell do you want?" I croak, standing with my back pressed against the wall. They've never dragged us off to double shows before, but I don't put anything past these people.

"You know, for someone who's in a fucked-up situation, you sure do have a lot of mouth," one guard snickers as he moves closer to me. The other guard in the room just rolls his eyes and takes a step forward to reach me before his counterpart. Neither of them looks like they're up to the task of playing cat and mouse today. In fact, all of the guards seem to be on edge the last few days. I don't know what's going on, but it seems like Liam and Shade aren't doing a very good job of keeping their workers happy.

"Let's go." The guard who looks over it grabs hold of my upper arm and begins to pull me toward the door.

"Where are you taking me? What's going on?" I look over to Bishop, who is already steaming in my direction, his fists balled up and his eyes locked on the man's hands on my arm.

"Stop the shit. I don't have time for this. You want to wash your ass or not?" The guard asks me, and I'm shocked by his words.

It's not very often they allow me to wash up, and it's usually at night. I'm assuming someone forgot to do this chore last night, which is why they are getting stuck with it this morning. It's definitely not as organized in here as it once was. I'll have to talk to Bishop about that later, but right now I'm more concerned about getting washed. It's the one part of this miserable punishment that I look forward to—washing the dirt and grime off my body before they force me to get dirty all over again.

"Okay, okay." I put a hand up and walk with the two guards, letting them know that I'm not going to fight anymore. With one look in Bishop's direction, he nods and goes back to his corner like a dog who's just been called off the attack. It's almost pitiful to see him like this. This is a man who deserves to be running free and out helping people, but right now all he can do is wait for the next man to fight for me. I'm grateful that he's here, but I'm sad it has to be this way.

The guards speed-walk me in the direction of the large bathing area. It's more like a gym shower room with several shower heads and one large open space. As I do with everything, I take my time looking around the area just to make sure there are no cameras rolling.

The impatient guard raps his billy club against the metal wall before he closes the door to the shower. He peers at me through the bars, "Hurry up. I don't have all day for this. I've got shit to do, and if you're not clean by the time I pull you out, that's your problem."

I take the threat to heart and quickly turn on the shower head before peeling out of my clothes and hanging them somewhere I know they'll stay dry. The water gushes over my skin and wets my tangled, knotted hair. There's a bar of harsh soap that I can use, but there's no way I can use that on my hair. After I quickly wash my body, I take my time, staying under the water, to try and untangle my coily hair. Parting in sections, I finger-comb out as many knots as I can before I braid each section and pray that it holds. By the time I get out of here, my hair is going to be so damaged I'll have to cut it off. Though that should be the least of my problems. The first should be wondering if I'm ever going to get out of here.

The guards leave me in longer than usual, but I'm not complaining about it. It gives me more time to handle my hair and get it to a somewhat manageable state.

Just as I get to the very end of detangling my hair, I hear the shuffling of steps outside the door. I tilt my head in that direction. Instead of the hurried steps I heard earlier, these steps are much slower, and there seem to be more of them. Ice chills my spine as I think of what these bastards could have planned. Are they really going to stand around and watch me shower like perverts?

With a sigh, I drop my head down and let the water continue to roll off my body. Of course, they'd do something like that. They are perverts, each and every one of them. They've proved that a million times already. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for whatever happens next. The door screeches as it's swung open.

"Next time this shit happens, I'm not going to take the time to get you washed up. You're just going to sit in your own filth."

My eyes spring open, and I turn my head. Shock roils through my body as I see the same two guards who pulled me in here this morning shoving another woman into the large shower room with me.

Another woman.

Throughout the time that Bishop and I have been here, Shade and the rest of the faceless have always threatened that if we didn't do what they asked, they'd kill us and find someone else to do it. I thought it was all a scare tactic. I'd never actually seen another person in here besides the clients and the people holding us hostage.

I turn fully in the shower, not caring that I'm naked and wet, and stare at the new addition to the shower room. She looks up at me once before she walks—no, more like wobbles—in the direction of another showerhead a little further down. Not only has this woman had a rough time here, but it's also obvious that she's very pregnant.

The door to the shower room slams shut again, and I'm stuck, still in shock, staring at the woman who is just trying to wash up. She winces as she tries to get her top off, and that spurs me into action.

"Do you need help?" I take a step forward, probably too fast because the woman flinches and glares at me as if she's waiting for me to pull out a weapon or something. It's clear she's been through quite a bit of trauma.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude on your private time." I turn my back to her, giving her as much privacy as I can. When she doesn't say anything back, I continue talking. "I'm Gabrielle."

"Why do I care?" the woman snaps at me just as I hear the sound of her showerhead turn on.

"You probably don't, but I do. I've never... you're the only other woman I've seen in here besides the people that watch me."

She chuckles joylessly before letting out a deep sigh. "Yeah, well, you're not the first I've seen, and I'm sure you won't be the last. The women don't last very long in here."

"I've been here for months... I think," I admit. The joy of finally having someone else besides Bishop to share my plight with is so freeing.

"Months? You must have been on the soft circuit. You look way too good to have been here for longer than two weeks."

I bite down hard on the inside of my mouth. I'd in no way classify the time I've spent here as easy, but I'm not sure what she's been through. Maybe to her, being forced to have sex with one person who only wants to protect you is easy time.

"What's your name?" I ask, searching for a bit of normalcy. That's what I'd have done if we were on the outside, right? No need to jump right into our problems and fears. Not when I don't even know who this woman is.

It takes her a long while, but if there's one thing I've learned as a therapist, it's that people come around on their own time. If I try to rush her, I can do more harm than good.

"I'm Willa." She finally answers after what feels like an hour.