Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth or it's inhabitants
Revamped -Thanks to my lovely (and hilarious) beta nothingnothingtralala
Sarah sat in the back seat of the blue Mercedes as it sped through the slowly darkening city. She wasn't sure if night was creeping in or if colour was simply fading from her vision; her blood was cold in her veins.
"Don't you need to blindfold me or something?" she muttered.
She hadn't expected a reply but Carl's hearing was keener than she had anticipated, he turned in his seat and glanced over his shoulder at her.
"How cliché; did you think we were taking you to our 'hideout?'"
The thought had crossed her mind actually, but it made sense, didn't it? Wasn't that the way things were done in these situations?
"Where are we going?" she asked, but he ignored her now, inspecting his nails critically and giving directions to the driver as they sped further into the heart of the city. Sarah didn't know this area: did it seem dark and foreboding or was that simply due to the company? Carl's instructions to Bruno, the driver, became more and more detailed as they continued.
Oddly enough she felt more restless than afraid. "I think you're going to need to pick up some things," she suggested, licking her lips nervously.
"Hmm," grunted Carl non-committedly.
"Like scratchies or a lottery ticket…" Sarah continued. She thought she saw Carl's cheek jerk, as if he was smirking at her expense. A sinking feeling had burrowed into the root of her stomach and made itself at home. He didn't really believe her, but he was still taking her. The only way she could possibly get out of this was to prove her talent for winning; if she could convince him of it then she could use it to get herself out of trouble, to save her whole family from all of this. If he wasn't going to let her exhibit her 'gift' then... what did he want from her? What sort of a man had her father passed her on to?
Thinking of her father was like a weight on her shoulders. As they had left he had refused to make eye contact with her, clearing his throat loudly and glancing away.
"Don't worry Sarah, I believe in you," he had told her. Avoiding the accusation in her eyes as she was lead to the car, his sacrifice, his vice, his enabler. He hadn't fought for her, she had watched Irene open her arms to embrace Toby as she was led away.
She sighed heavily and leaned back against the plush velvet car seat cover, rubbing her cheek against the softness, seeking comfort.
This is a fine mess I've gotten myself into.
"I have never ever not won on a scratchy," she announced conversationally. Perhaps it was her nerves or perhaps it was self-preservation kicking in, she just needed them to understand. "Every single ticket is a win. Not always a big win but they're all winners." Glancing up, she caught Bruno's eye in the rear view mirror. She thought she could see the ghost of a smile on his face.
It gave her courage.
"Bigger competitions have better prizes, and competitions where you can only win big are the best because I'll always win. It's not just money either, I've won a cruise and a car before, all I need to do is enter…"
"Shut up," growled Carl, cutting her off, probably for the best as she had started to ramble. As if the engine itself had heard his order the car came to a sudden stop and Bruno fumbled with his seatbelt. Sarah looked up through the tinted windows and saw they had pulled into… a gas station.
Somewhat anticlimactic…
She fidgeted awkwardly in the backseat as she watched Bruno exit the car and start the pump. Carl pulled a cell phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contact list, selecting one and holding the piece to his ear.
"Yeah, it's me," he told someone. "I've got some merchandise… nah, not that one, it's something else. Send Cindy by the usual place will you? Room 505." With a grunt he hung up the phone and continued to play with it in the front seat. Sarah jumped as Bruno's door opened suddenly and he climbed back into the car. He turned towards Carl as if to say something, but then thought better of it and placed his keys in the ignition to start the car.
Sarah travelled the rest of the way in silence with her eyes locked on the city outside. She didn't think they had come very far, but she didn't recognise the area at all. She wished she did; it felt like knowing where she was might be useful later. She tried to make a note of interesting landmarks on the way. A Mexican shop with a sombrero shaped roof, an odd looking piece of modern art which was all twists and loops, a car raised onto a post, reigning over a used car lot.
Outside everyday people were going about their everyday lives as if nothing was amiss.
Before long they pulled up in front of a hotel high rise and Bruno turned off the car. When he opened the car door for her she got out obediently. The hotel building was neat and tidy from the outside, the slate walls shining with a mineral lustre in the fading daylight. It looked to be about sixteen storeys high and was fairly modern in design; dark windows reflected their surroundings with a shadowed ominous interpretation. The short pathway to the entry was pavement, spray painted to resemble a large black and white tile pattern. Small drought-hardy plants such as penstemon and lamb's ears lined the tile borders, dwarfed by larger succulents scattered in a design to make the entrance appear inviting. As they passed under the canopy veranda, Sarah craned her neck to catch sight of the hotel name. 'The Sloan', it read, and she shook her head; it was unfamiliar.
Carl took the lead and they formed a line, she in the middle and Bruno following behind her. They made their way through the front doors. Inside, a large arc of glass separated the foyer area from the reception check in. A glass wall fountain trickled pleasantly against a wall to the right while double lifts sat to the left. The same black and white floor tiling continued into the building but had now graduated from cement to actual tiles. Carl nodded to the receptionist at the desk, who turned away with a tight smile; he turned and made his way towards the lift. As they crowded into the tiny metal box together, Sarah felt a wave of madness roll over her. It was all so casual, as if they were going to dinner together or out to a movie.
Carl leaned forward and pushed the button for the fifth floor. Sarah eyed the 'help' button hungrily, but it wasn't as if the hotel staff would be of much use to her, considering that she couldn't trust that they weren't part of Carl's business. She remembered the way the little blonde receptionist's eyes had glazed when she had seen him, fluttering away like moths. If she was going to find assistance it would need to be from the outside.
When they arrived on the fifth floor, Sarah's feet were heavy on the red plush carpet as she followed them to a room a few doors down. The 'Room 505' nameplate leered down at her from a doorway tucked between layers of tacky embossed wallpaper. Bruno swiped an entry card over the dull metal panel to the side of the door and the little LED display glowed green. He pushed open the door and nudged her forward; Sarah found her feet would not comply.
"In," commanded Carl and she was pushed from behind, tripping on her feet and ending up sprawled on a green plush rug inside the room. There was a rustle behind her and a plastic bag was thrown in too, landing unceremoniously atop the king-sized bed dominating the far wall. A bottle of water crashed out of the bag and rolled across the floor to settle in an adjoining doorway. Behind her, Sarah heard the door snap shut and the lock click into place.
She sat in a heap, feeling dazed. Lime walls spun around her, large replica art prints dancing across her vision as she took deep breaths and tried to steady her nerves. Inching along the ground, she made her way to the foot of the bed and pulled herself up onto unsteady feet. It was a fair sized apartment; it was sparsely furnished with a white painted bed frame, vanity unit and a small side table, with a pale green chaise by the window.
Sarah ran to the window, stumbling as she went, and wrenched at the window frame. It stuck fast, painted shut from the look of it, heavy layers of white paint congealed into a mess of semi-gloss lacquer. She looked out and reminded herself that she was five storeys up, no short jumping distance.
Well in a labyrinth maybe…
She stepped back from the window shakily.
If she could think of a way to get down she could always break the window; something like a rope. Looking around, her heart fell when she saw the bed, unmade, no sheets, just a mattress. She glanced back to the window. No curtains. Thinking hard, she wandered over to the door which extended into the bathroom, stooping to pick up the water bottle on the way. The bathroom was fairly modern, a stand-alone shower enclosed with a Perspex shower door. No shower curtain. A small spa bathtub built into the corner of the bathroom was surrounded by flat white tiles fringed by a delicate gold border tile with an ornate leaf design. The floor tiles were dark and grained to prevent slipping. No complimentary toothbrush, no towels in the cupboard, nothing.
This room was not prepared for guests.
Sarah stalked back into the main room and forcefully opened all the drawers of the vanity.
Nothing.
Disgusted, she sat down on the bed and put her head in her hands. She wouldn't cry, crying wasn't going to help… but she could feel the tell-tale lump in her throat belying her thoughts. Taking a deep shuddering breath, she lay back on the mattress and tried to think. Her hand caught the edge of the plastic bag and she twisted it angrily, flinging it from the bed. Slightly heavier than expected, it made it a foot from the bed frame and slid across the floor.
Sitting up, Sarah stared at it curiously. Getting onto her hands and knees, she reached off the bed precariously to snag it with her fingers and pull it into her lap. Shaking it, she emptied the contents in front of her and felt her heart soar.
Scratchies. Bruno must have bought some at the gas station.
Fanning them out before her, she smiled. Five. More than enough to prove a point. Feeling hopeful, she picked up the first one; tilting the fingernail of her thumb to a more suitable angle, she made short work of the opaque covering on the card.
Ten dollar win.
Crossing her legs, she reached for the next one and scratched them all in turn. Two dollar wins for all the remainders; still, it was something. As she shuffled the cards into a pile in front of her, she heard the tell-tale beep and click of the door lock as it swung open to reveal a skinny woman in her forties. The woman skulked in and the door shut fast behind her.
She was tall and lithe; perhaps she had once been a beauty but now layers of clogged makeup had been heavily applied and the result was unbecoming. Bright blue eye shadow bruised her eye lids and fire-truck-red lipstick had been hastily applied to her thin lips, overlapping them to try and fulfill the appearance of a fuller pout on a mouth holding tight to her cigarette. She was wearing low cut jeans which looked well-worn and a midriff top which was extremely unflattering on a woman of her age. A nasty looking surgical scar dipped below her left breast down to her navel. Long limp hair was plastered across her forehead and spilled over her thin, bony shoulders in oily bunches.
"Ay," she said, appraising Sarah with a sniff. "Come on girl, up now; let me 'ave a look at you."
Sarah crawled to the edge of the bed and stood obediently. Perhaps it was best to seem like she was the sort to comply with orders without challenge... for now. This woman didn't seem to be much of a threat, but it was hard to say for certain. Sarah decided to play along, she had always been an able actor, this might be the best way to feel her situation out.
"Who are you?" she asked. The woman sniffed loudly again and twisted her mouth, rolling the cigarette around her lips. She brought ruby, clawed fingernails up to remove it.
"I'm Cindy," she introduced herself, flicking ash on the floor. "Come here."
Sarah hesitated before walking over the woman who simply continued to look at her.
"Turn around," she instructed. Sarah turned slowly, becoming nervous the second her eyes were off the woman and spinning back with a flourish. Cindy puffed out a cloud of smoke and sniffed noisily.
"How old are you?" she probed.
"Why?" asked Sarah.
"Because I'm evaluating you," Cindy told her. "As in seeking your value, seeing how much you are worth to us."
Sarah felt sick.
"What for?" she asked.
"I don't know what you'll be for yet, that's what I'm here to figure out." Cindy snorted. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-one," answered Sarah automatically. Just... today in fact, what a way to spend her birthday. Cindy walked over to her and Sarah backed away unconsciously. Sighing, Cindy chased her backwards into a wall and then jerked a perfectly manicured nail between her lips to pull her mouth open. She made a humming sound in the back of her throat as she inspected what she found there.
"Ever been with a man?" Cindy asked, dropping her hand from Sarah's mouth.
Sarah flushed, that was a very personal question.
"None of your business," she growled furiously. She wasn't sure whether a negative or a positive reply would make her 'more valuable,' but there was only one kind of industry she could think of that would require such knowledge.
What sort of industry did you think she was sizing you up for?
Sarah felt sick. The situation felt utterly unreal to her. Her father had abandoned her and now she was being sized up for the sex trade. As Cindy began to prod and poke her, making comments and asking further questions, Sarah stood frozen under her ministrations. It was like she couldn't even summon a reason to fight back anymore, couldn't remember why she should even bother. After a great deal of intimate measuring, which involved a little too much fondling for Sarah's tastes, Cindy was finally satisfied with the result. Sniffing again, she waved Sarah back to the bed and started fishing in her pocket for her pass key to the door.
"Where will they send me?" Sarah asked numbly, not sure whether she really wanted a response. She clutched the scratchy tickets in her hand until her knuckles were white, the sharp corners cutting into her palm.
"They…" Cindy stopped. Her eyes glinted on Sarah's hands and a shrewd look came over her. "Is that a winner?"
She reached down and tried to pull the scratchies from Sarah's hands where they were clutched protectively. "Oi, I heard about these," she snarled, and tried to wrestle them from Sarah. She was too frightened to give them up, her only lifeline, her grasp was unrelenting as she refused Cindy purchase. Cursing, Cindy swung her cigarette and Sarah soon felt the sharp sting of it on the back of her hand. Gasping in shock, she automatically released the little cards from her hand and into Cindy's possession.
Grinning over her win, Cindy left the room victorious, the familiar click of the lock following her.
Sarah did cry then.
She cried like she would never stop, for hours maybe, with all of the desperation she had felt. She cried until her heart hurt and until the loss of her last chance was salved by the numbness that washed over her once all the tears were dried. She sat on the unmade bed in the dark and listened to the quiet. It was well past the time she was supposed to have eaten her dinner. It was her birthday, she was hungry, and those were the least of her problems.
At length there was the sound of footsteps in the hall beyond the door and she stiffened, prepared for the fate that followed.
As soon as she saw Bruno's familiar figure in the doorway she cursed herself. Why hadn't she found herself a weapon to fight with? Her fingers dug into the mattress beneath her as Bruno approached; rays of light filtered in through the window and ineffectively fought the shadows on his face. He stopped at the foot of the bed and cleared his throat.
"Boss said you'd better win big this time," he told her.
Sarah stared up at him. She felt like her brain had short-circuited. She stared dumbly, trying to see his face in the dark and gain understanding. There was the noise of a plastic bag and its contents tumbled out onto the mattress before her.
Scratchies, a lot of them.
Sarah felt a breath she hadn't known she was holding whoosh out of her lungs in relief. Cindy had taken them to Carl, of course she had. Why had she thought she was stealing them anyway? Carl must have mentioned it to her, as a joke perhaps, but they'd gone where they needed to go. She was one step closer to being taken seriously.
As Bruno left the room she started to laugh. Hysterical laughter escaped her, she felt half mad with grief and fear and surprise. She rolled around on top of the scratchies, giggling and choking back sobs at the same time. Eventually, she was simply lying there in the dark breathing deeply. She needed to calm down and clear her head. Everything was going to be okay.
Slipping over the side of the bed, she tried to skirt the room carefully, fumbling the walls for a light switch in the dark. When she found it the bulb hummed on, casting a pitiful glow around the room and glinting off the faux metallic shine from the scratch cards. Carefully, Sarah counted them out and laid them in lines before her.
Thirty cards; it was definitely enough for a good win.
She was grinning now, she couldn't help herself. Leaning back, she found the bottle of water and took a long eager swig. Refreshed, she turned back to the cards and began to work away the panels hiding her future.
She was only three in before her first loss.
She stared at it for a long time, she rechecked it. It was still not a win. It was completely alien to her.
She never lost.
Picking up the next card she scratched again. No win.
A sick feeling unfolded in her stomach as she reached for yet another. In no time at all she had scratched all of them: three wins and twenty seven losses.
Her luck had run out.
The maniacal laughter threatened to rise in her chest again and she pushed it down to simmer with the sick swirl in her belly. Her breathing was shallow as she pushed herself from the bed, spilling the cards onto the floor in her passage. On shaky legs she crossed the room to the doorway and pushed against it. Raging, she slammed her fists into it and tried with all her might to push it open. She kicked, she screamed, and she cried with everything that was left inside of her. When she was empty, she sank down onto the ground, panting from her exertion.
Her luck had run out.
Time passed but no one came. The scratchies on the floor mocked her as they sparkled under the dull glow of the light bulb. Exhausted, Sarah crawled over to the window and stared out into the dark night sky. For a moment her eyes flickered down to the ground. Was five storeys really that high, too high to jump?
It seemed to be an effort to draw breath, to even exist. She pushed her palm against the cold pane of glass before her and looked up into the universe, searching for answers. A solitary star twinkled back at her from the dark.
"Oh I wish…" she started, stopping herself automatically before she finished. She must never say those words. The air around her charged with an unfamiliar energy.
"Yes, precious?" came a voice from behind her… a voice she hadn't heard since her childhood. "I do hope you'll finish that thought."
Kaytori - Thanks for your constructive feedback, with that in mind (and since the way forward is also the way back) I've gone and made a few changes to the first chapter, nothing major but just a bit of finesse on that flat conversation and some additional description.
Next chapter will have Jareth!