Free Capital City Chronicles: The Island by S.E. Goss

else and move along.
    After an eternity of being on display, I reached the first elevator. Just as the glass front began to slide shut, I heard a voice from among the chaos,
    “Wait,” a young female voice, “Please hold the door!”
    Instinctively I put my hand out to stop the door, and out of the crowd came a beautiful girl of about 16. She wore a red, velvet lined collar with small gold chains that hung in short loops along the front. Her hair was cropped short, like mine, but was a fiery red. Her face and chest were covered with freckles. She looked nothing like her, and wasn’t a thralldoll, but I thought of the girl in the video.
    “Oh thanks!,” like everyone else, she seemed to be in a lively mood. “18 please.”
    I reached out and pressed the button.
    “Wow, you’re going to the 40th floor?” she asked in an excited, almost envious voice, “Did you get bought by a senator? That’s who’s up there ya know…”
    She wore a genuine smile, her green eyes large with wonder. I tried to smile, and nodded. She shrugged,
    “Well you should be stoked. It’s not very often a thrall gets bought by a senator,” a thought occurred to her and she became excited again, “Hey, you never know! If you’re really good, he may cut it off and give you a name and a real collar! They can do that you know. Senators I mean. They can do that.”
    She looked up me. Studying my face with big, innocent green eyes. I tried to seem natural, tried to look like I’d done this before. She caught on.
    “You’re knew at this, huh?” She said.
    I nodded.
    “What did you do, fight back or something? Call your Master a name?”
    I was at a loss. I opened my mouth to speak, before I had even come up with a believable story. She saved me from it by interrupting,
    “Hey, it’s no biggie,” she touched my arm, a comforting caress, and in that moment I loved her.
    “All you have to do is be good, and do what he says,” she tried to reassure me, lightly rubbing my arm.
    “And try to do it really good. You must be good to be given to a senator. Maybe you’ll get your name back,” she added.
    The elevator slowed and dinged at her floor. Just before the door closed, she turned to me,
    “If he lets you wander tonight, I’ll be at the Fountain Spell diner on the third floor if you wanna hang out! Good luck!” She waved as the elevator closed and lifted away.
    I let out a shaking, halting breath and leaned against the railing on the back wall.
    I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, the reality of what I was doing washing over me. My scalp grew hot and the feeling sank down my body. I had come this far; I was committed. Opening my eyes and looking forward again, I saw the long hallway of the 40th floor. I hadn’t noticed the elevator stop, or the doors open.
    Here I was.
    I reminded myself not to think, just move.
    I stepped onto the gaudy carpet of the hall. There were only a dozen rooms, each with severe looking men with nondescript suits and submachine guns flanking the door. They all turned their heads to watch me as I traveled the length of the hall. I rehearsed my story over and over in my mind as I watched the brass numbers of each room. Finally, almost at the end of the hall, I saw the room number I had uncovered from the hotel’s ledgers:
    408
    Approaching the door, the heavy, overstuffed clutch tucked under my arm, my heart raced as I tried desperately to remember my first line. The Secret Service agents stood bored, their hands hanging over the tops of their guns.
    The agent to my right rolled his eyes,
    “How many of these is he going to go through tonight?” he sighed. His partner shrugged, never taking his indifferent eyes off me.
    “Well,” he said, reaching out and grabbing the neckline of my dress, pulling it forward. The tiny popping from several stitches breaking open at the back of Pan’s dress was the loudest noise in the hall. It was an effort not to slap his hand away, more for possibly ruining