𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙣
⊱ ─────────── ⊰

I've only just been reunited with Chris, thinking I'm one step closer to getting out of here, when a guard barges in.

"—I paid five k to watch." Andy tells the men.

"Well wrap it up," one security guard grumbles. "she's needed."

I gasp, standing cautiously behind Chris's back.

Needed by who? For what?

"How much?" Andy asks them to name a price so we can have more time alone.

"How much for what?" The shorter man wonders.

"Another five minutes," Andy smirks, offering his wad of cash.

"Your money isn't necessary," the man in the purge masks says, "Tate and his father have asked for her personally."

"Well I'm not done with her," Chris speaks up.

All heads turn to face us. Err, him.

The taller guard sarcastically laughs out loud then grabs me roughly by the arm.

"I wouldn't keep Tate or his father waiting," he says.

I look back at Chris so he can do something, but he doesn't right away.

I'm dragged out of the room by the guards with no clue where they're taking me.

I don't want to wait to find out what Tate is going to do to me, so instead of being the damsel in distress, I take matters into my own hands.

In my pleaser heels, I step on one of the guard's foot, and knee the other in the balls.

"GET HER!" One of them shouts after me.

"MORGAN!" Chris yells. He wasn't far behind, I knew he wouldn't be.

He runs towards me but the sound of rapid gun shots makes us all duck and scream.

Chris shields me, with Andy on my right.

"What the hell was that?" The guard in the Purge masks ask out loud.

"You go check on Tate, I'll get Ray!" His co-worker shouts an order.

"Wait," he pauses. "What do we do with them?"

OOF!

Andy, Chris, and I are all tossed into a small broom closet.

I can hardly see anything before I feel a light switch dangling.

"Hey!" Andy objects, banging on the door but we suddenly hear it lock.

I look around to see if there's anything that we can use to break out. Nope, only cleaning supplies. Great, the bleach will come in handy when we give up and want to kill ourselves.

I slide down the wall and rip the seven inch heels off.

There's a pair of red Hunter boots that look like they might fit me. They're clean, I figure 'what the heck', and slip my feet inside of them so I'm not walking around barefoot or dawning those platforms anymore.

Andy's busy trying to bust out, forcing his shoulder against the door but it's no use.

"Will you stop that?" Chris growls, his head in his hands.

"I'm trying... to get us out..." Andy struggles to speak as he rams the side of his body into the wood.

"Give it up," Chris sounds stress. "we're locked in here."

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A persistent tone goes off but I can't pinpoint where it might be coming from.

"I'm not going to let us rot in here-" Andy argues, flailing his arms.

Chris loosens his tie, looking down at Andy with a dark look in his eyes.

"What," Andy barks, "do you have a better idea?"

"I'm trying to think of one." Chris says back, awfully calmly. In fact, too calm for Chris in this situation, it's making me uneasy.

"Well think faster, I'm fucking claustrophobic!" Andy starts to pace.

"Stop yelling..." I hardly have the energy to scold the two of them.

"There has to be a way out of here. Fuck!" Andy roars.

In a fit of rage, he knocks down a can of paint off the shelf.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I hear the beeping again. It's suddenly more clear, louder.

Chris strictly claps his hands, pushing his weight off of the wall to confront Andy.

"Stop FUCKING yelling, I'm trying to think!" He explodes.

"I CAN'T BREATHE!" Andy shouts down Chris's throat.

Chris pushes Andy in the chest and then punches the wall.

"FUCK," Chris screams, "I CAN'T THINK WITH THAT GODDAMN BEEPING!"

"You hear it too?" I ask, standing.

"Me too." Andy utters, looking around the room.

"It's coming from over here..." I notice, pushing Chris out of my way.

"It's probably just a-" he tries making sense of the noise.

"Shhh." I tell him.

"It's-" Chris speaks up again but I cut him off.

Looking over my shoulder at Chris, my eyes roll back in my head as I slowly tell him, "Shut. Up." My words drag as emphasis.

Chris seals his lips just long enough for me to uncover where the sound is coming from.

I stand on one of the lower tiers of the shelf to hoist myself up.

Once I'm eye level with the cans of paint on the top shelf, the sound is more persistent.
Spotting a slither of light, I follow it to a small slot - like a tiny door or peek hole.

Hmm. . .

I pinch the tiny handle and slide the door open, revealing a room on the other side of the wall. The lights are blue and blinking on and off routinely. Figuring that explains the beeping, I start to step down but Chris grabs hold of my waist and helps me off of the shelf.

Safe in his arms, I stop to smile at him and he smirks, gently putting me onto my feet.

"So," Andy asks through a shaky voice, "what was it? What did you see?"

I tear my eyes away from Chris's so that I can answer a hyperventilating Andy.

"I don't know, but there's a room on the other side." I say, trying to think of a way to get over there.

"We're in a broom closet," Andy responds to me.

"How is there gonna be a room... on... the... other... side?" His words slow as he indeed witnesses me find a room on the other side.

I've seen a lot of old movies, enough to know that if there's a secret room and a shelf, there's gonna be something on the shelf that reveals the opening to said room.

Like something from an eighties mystery film, rust shakes off of the shelf as the wall slides to the left to open up to the blue light room on the other side.

I look back at both of the men with dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

"Oh." Is all Andy can say.

"I never doubted you, baby." Chris says, making me roll my eyes.

"Mhm." I mumble, leading the way into what looks like a surveillance room.

"What is this?" Asks Andy once he can breathe regularly again.

I shrug, looking all around.

That's where the blue light was coming from, I say to myself in my head when I lay eyes on the monitors.

"Don't touch anything." I try to tell the men.

"Too late." Andy remarks, watching Chris click on the mouse.

"Chris," I exhale, "what are you doing?"

"Look." He says, calling Andy and I over to him.

Several of the screens display footage of what's happening at the party. Most scenes are of people having sex. I wish I could say that's surprising, but after everything I've seen tonight, nothing surprises me.
Other monitors show shady dealings involving money, probably in exchange of the girls, some "artwork," or drugs.

"They're selling them?" Andy asks, narrowing his eyes on a redhead in chains.

"No..." I tell him.

"Not really. It's complicated, but they're not being trafficked. Most of these girls owe Tate or his father in some way. Yeah, it's still illegal, I'm sure, but it's not what you think. A lot of the girls are actually fine and free to go at the end of the night even." I explain as best I can. At least, that's what Jasmine and some of the other models told me.

"Huh." Andy sounds.

"Wait," I gasp. "can you go back? Rewind it so we can see what the gunshots were."

Chris quickly figures out how to work the system and backtracks the footage.

"Stop. There." I tell him, pointing at the screen.

"Jasmine!" I exclaim.

"Shit. It's Jabari." Chris curses, angrily pacing.

"Why would he do that?" Andy asks, fear lacing his tone.

"He probably didn't have another choice." Chris tries to defend his best friend.

"Well he fucked up the plan, so what now?" Andy questions.

"We have to find Lydia and get the fuck out of here." Chris says, grabbing my arm.

"You dragged her into this?" I ask him.

He looks at me sternly. "She was in this before us, trust me."

"I knew it."

"Look at this..." Andy gulps.

Chris and I hustle back to the surveillance footage and watch closely as Jabari shoots at a guard and the two men in bed with his ex wife. He tries to remove Jasmine from the three way but she fights him off.

Despite her slapping and scratching, Jabari drags Jasmine down the hall.

We can't hear any sound, so I can't make out what he's saying as he covers her mouth and talks down at her.

It isn't long until they're chased by three men and cornered.

Chris balls his fists as he watches Jabari get violently beaten.

Jasmine cooperates with the two guards who take her away, while one hauls JB's body off camera.

"FUCK!" Chris roars from the pit of his stomach.

He throws the computer chair and punches the air.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He rages.

"It's okay, we'll find him." Andy tries to console Chris. Bad idea.

In his episode of anger, Chris knocked something on the keypad and the footage rewinds. The screens go haywire until it stops, the clarity going in and out.

After a minute, the technology fixes itself.

"Eyes up.... Good girl." I hear Chris's voice except, he didn't just say that.

Moans pick up, loudly surrounding the room.

"Mmm, I can't hear you... use your words, baby." His voice again makes me look at the screens.

"Finish for me." I whisper to Chris in one showing as I ride him.

Oh my God—

Dozens of angels and different videos of Chris and I having sex, some as recent as a month ago, others from a year or two ago.

My eyes fixate on another screen. I remember this scene all too well - my birthday three years ago. It was the first time Chris and I got intimate. We were on Malcolm's yacht, I was tipsy.

I watch closely, reliving the moment:

Chris pulls his shorts back on after cleaning himself with a wash cloth I offered.
Next, he comes over and kisses me again, tasting himself on my tongue.
"Happy birthday," he says to me before walking out.

Then, I see Chris on one screen. He's with a girl, I can't look away.
She's taken her clothes off and lies seductively on his bed.

It's Sabrina. I gather this must be from their affair in Port Ember, New York, before I arrived:

"Look, Sabrina, I can't keep doing this." Says Chris, hanging his head.
She pauses on the floor between his legs and looks up at him desperately.

"I'm sorry?" She asks, eyelids flickering.

"I don't feel right moving up just because you like me." Chris talks about a raise.

"You're too cute." Sabrina says, reaching for Chris's belt.

He pushes her hands away. "I don't wanna take advantage of you." He claims.

"Oh, sweetie," she scoffs. "I want to be taken advantage of. Just sit back and let me take care of you."

Chris, clearing his throat, looks at me and then quickly away.

We keep looking solely because we can't look away, we're more than shocked that our lives have been stalked and are now on display for us.

"—Those your real eyelashes?" Beck, on the screen, asks me.

I remember choking on my coffee after he asked that.

"Oh, no," I reply sheepishly, "They're, um, individual extensions. My friend Jasmine just did them."

"Oh, okay. Well, you look decent."

"Decent?" I put my mug down and grab my purse to leave.

He puts his hand out to stop me, saying, "I wanted to compliment you, but didn't want to be inappropriate."

I nod, understanding and sit back down only because I didn't achieve why I came in the first place.

"You're beautiful." Beck tells me, staring at my face as he leans in with his elbows on his knees.

Chris, triggered by the remembrance of Beck Jordan, grumbles and curses under his breath.

And then the truth comes out. Every screen switches to the same footage. It's Chris and Carter on the rooftop with Malcolm:

"...You shot me." Carter deadpans.

"Please. Please, you don't want to do this, Carter. You're not like me, you're good, remember? I'll leave, okay, you all can forget I ever existed." Malcolm begs for his life.

"Come on, y'all." Trey, Jasmine's brother, warns.

Carter, with one arm, lowers himself to look right into Malcolm's dilated eyes.

"You're right," he said, "I'm not, but that's my son. You tried to fuck with him?"

During this exchange between the old friends, Chris struggles to keep Malcolm's body dangling over the edge.

"Dad..." Chris grumbled, impatiently.

Malcolm spooks himself, looking down. "You won't ever have to see me again, Carter, please. Chris?" His voice trembles.

"Dad!" Yells Chris as a warning. In the next instance, he takes one arm back and Malcolm gasps fearfully.

"The drugs?" Carter goes on. "You killed a fifteen year old girl. And Morgan, you put your hands on her?"

Malcolm kicks and flails as he tries to bargain with Carter.

"Don't let me die, Carter, you won't want me to die." Malcolm pleads.

Rising to his feet, Carter coldly states, "You were dead to me a long time ago."

Chris picks Malcolm's fingers from his wrist and hurriedly scrambled from the ledge to safety.

A loud noise booms, hypnotizing or retraumatizing Chris. He stands still, frozen in time.

So that's how it happened, I think to myself. I never asked any questions, not thinking I wanted to be burdened with knowing how my fiancé and his father killed a man.

"They've been watching us the whole time..." I utter, staring blankly ahead.

Just when I think it's over, a shot of Tate in the mirror with a camera comes on screen.

He flashes a thumbs up and then drunkenly wanders into a hallway. Except, I recognize that hallway despite all my work to forget it.
It's Malcom's house:

Malcolm tells Tate to whisper so he doesn't wake me.

"She took the drugs, I'm going to do it now. You can watch, she probably won't see you, just stay in the corner." He tells Tate quietly.

"How much?" Tate asks.

"To watch?"

"No, to go next."

"No, no, no. She's not like the cheap bookers you have, and she'll probably wake up soon. I hardly got her consent to do this, I don't want to have to deal with her saying you raped or something." Malcolm whispers, walking into the lavender room.

He points Tate to a dark corner of the room where he sits in a chair that I apparently couldn't see.

The camera pans to my half naked body on the bed, handcuffed to the posts.

I groan in bed, waking up.

Malcolm hovers over my body. "Shh, shh, shh..." He says, stroking my hair.

"Remember what we talked about? I'm gonna make you feel good now."

"No..." I object audibly and clearly.

"You said yes earlier, darling. I won't hurt you. I just want to make you feel better... unless you can pay me back?"

"I don't have any money, you took it." I respond through aching groans.

"So shut up and let me do what I want to you. And you better moan this time like you like it." Malcolm orders as he goes down on me.

The camera pans to a nude Tate, stroking himself in the far corner of the room before the screen switches to another video.

"Wow," Andy lets out. "I'm glad you guys killed him."

"Turn it off." I murmur.

Andy can't figure out how to.

"Turn it off! Turn it off now. Right now!" I scream, banging my fists on the keyboard.

Calming down, I softly say, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Chris doesn't react, I don't think he knows how to. I know that face, it's stone cold, his eyes are blank but behind them is a wrathful fire.

He squeezes both of my arms and pushes his lips to my forehead. I know that means he's sorry. For everything.

"What's this?" Andy asks, pointing to a still image on one of the lower screens.

A letter appears so I pause to read:

To my darling, Morgan,

This was always your fate, darling. After all, you are contractually obligated since signing up for Clapper per the terms and conditions. Tsk tsk. You young people should really start reading into those, you know? Well, selfishly I'm glad you didn't because now I can do whatever I want to and with you legally. You are a pleasure but you stopped giving that to me. So I asked some friends to look after you. The Slaughters are associates of mine, they've been keeping an eye on you and have taken a strong liking to you. Don't worry, they want you just as badly as I do so they'll treat you similarly. You were my favorite one, it's a shame things didn't work out. But since you wasted my time and I can't get that back, you can at least make me some money back since I owe some people - The Slaughters included. I trust my associates will care for you decently, I've told them how delicate you are, darling.

Yours,
Malcolm