4 Chapter 4 - The old Hag

The showcase, to the many women in the compound, was the grandest joke, a parody in many ways, a personal hell to all.

It could not be taken seriously, not when the room it was held in was the only decent room in the whole god dammed place. They called it the red room.

No crumbling walls, stained green by moss and fungus. No leakages that dripped infuriatingly. No disgusting stench of fish and sweat and piss – the gaping holes in the walls had been fixed with newspapers and cheap zigzag patterned wallpaper that made you dizzy, the roof was plastered with a red sheet of fibre or plastic (God only knows) they had literally nailed in, and the smell of the car scent hangers tucked everywhere within overpowered any other smell.

When it was in use, the guards would bring out gaudy, red, cheap decorations. They were garish, mostly made up of cardboard paper with so much glitter the whole bloody compound would be covered in it, one way or another.

It was just a fancy way of naming the chaos, the debauchery, the depravity that followed them like a grim reaper. They never did get permission to touch the girls, patrons first and foremost. Only when they entertained a big client would they have a free for all feast. The best girl was always left for the bigshot. Adria had been the best girl her first week in – they regretted it.

It was strange that another showcase would follow so soon when they were hosted merely once or twice a year.

Most of Adria's information came from the oldest woman in the compound, kept around to sooth the other women when Ricky couldn't inspire obedience through fear. She was thin, had a long neck framed by short blonde curls peppered with white, and the wrinkles on the small face were deep and contoured. Her faded grey eyes were lined with a smoky blue, as always. This hag could barely be a day over 40, yet she looked twice that. Her time at the compound had not been kind and once her beauty had faded and her marketability had hit rock bottom, Ricky had probably taken the wise decision of making her the matron. Adria doubted that. The man could not think of a reasonable idea to save his life.

The crow preferred a corner room near their own abandoned part of the compound, said there was less noise, less fuel for nightmares.

Adria slipped her a twenty on the way to the warehouse; they had to wear skimpy outfits that made Adria's rags look comely. Adria scoffed at the man watching her keenly. She snatched the dammed nun outfit (something out of a 2002 porn) and stomped to the back of the antechamber. It connected to the showcase room of hell. The working men would peek in every two minutes, the clamour of their banging would lessen.

Adria had not had one moment of peace from the day she was dragged to the compound. Could they not just give her a break? Just once. She had not killed anyone, yet.

Two guards passed by, speaking in hushed urgent whispers.

"Ricky said we'd need to hold it back till next week."

"Well, the big boss is here, you tell Ricky to deal."

"We ain't seen him since morn'."

They moved out of earshot, but that was enough. Adria could jump out of a window with the excitement coursing through her veins. No Ricky, no security. She could wait until the debauchery started and sneak up to the roof.

"Don't think much of it," the old crow said, ambling behind Adria.

She pulled out a cigarette from the folds of her large skirt and leaned on the wall, the bracelets on her arms jingled.

"Old hag."

Adria acknowledged, nodding.

The woman kissed her teeth, spat on the ground and pinned Adria in place with a fearsome glare.

"They watching you girly, whatever silly idea you've got in that pretty head of yours you better let it go."

Her voice did not raise above the low drawl she used, but Adria could feel the fire behind her words, the anger hidden in the tangled vowels.

"I didn't pay you to read me the riot act. How many?"

She continued the practiced ritual of rubbing of the worst of the grime with wipes, it did not do much, made her skin sticky and itchy. What she would give for a nice, warm bath. She could kill for it.

Adria hummed softly; she had not expected the hag to care. What was her name anyway?

"You know, when I was your age, I thought I could get out. Tried my hand a few fair times at escaping. The closest I've gotten was a showcase too," she said slowly.

Adria snorted. If the woman thought Adria would listen to her twisted reason, she had another thing coming her way.

"Then you weren't very smart, were you?"

"After the first time, they watched me worse than hawks."

Somehow, the hag maintained the cool apathy she had plastered on, for everyone knew this hag was made of stubborn fire. Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. Adria strained to hear her.

"Yeah, great, cool. Any day now?"

"I have more than ten attempts to my name. They are watching you worse than they have ever watched me. Whatever they need you for, it's important enough that they assigned five men to you. Five."

The hag hissed sharply, invading Adria's space, getting in her face. She bared her teeth, her face contorting. The old crow pointed a shaky finger at Adria, using it to push her back. Adria stood her ground, staring the woman down in a short nun dress with the kind of décolletage that would make Maggie blush timidly. She was one of a kind. A true mastermind. Adria would not bow to intimidating grannies.

"If I wanted to escape, I would have done that two weeks ago."

No, Adria was playing a different kind of game. She would win it too if she had anything to say about it.

The hag spat on the floor again, the green slimy spit landing uncomfortably close. In the furrow of her brows Adria could see her worry but in the curl of her mouth she saw disdain. No matter, Adria would be out of the compound and far away by the end of the day. She wouldn't need the blind hag again.

"You'll have ten guards by the end of the day."

We'll see.