Dreams Outgrow Rooms Built From Other Peoples Fears by Niro Mason 111

111 A Doll In Distress [2] 

Marcus snapped his fingers, and the girls on the couch stood. “Take her to Mama, and have her cleaned up. Tell her that I want this diamond to be perfect, and she’s for the guest. No one touches her.” He emphasized his last words to his brother, who didn’t look too happy about that. 

The girls came for me and dragged me out. 

Rasping, I looked behind me and at my sides. There were armed men everywhere. I can’t run. My purse was gone, too, alongside my phone. I must have dropped it after Milo hit me. 

I don’t know how long we walked, but we were suddenly in a place that looked like a dressing room, with mirrors everywhere, and a bit crowded. 

“Get moving! You’re up next, don’t waste my time.” A woman barked at the girls in far too revealing outfits. 

“Mama! From Marcus,” one of the girls who dragged me here said. 

A middle–aged woman turned to us, hair completely white and kept short. 

This Mama took a drag on her cigarette. “And what do we have here?” 

“A gift for that guest.” 

She was suddenly tense at the mention of it, pressing the bottom of the cigar on the ashtray. 

“I thought I was meant to make that choice. Ashley was perfect.” 

“Seems like he changed his mind.” 

Mama eyed me closely, and I caught the confusion in her gaze. 

“Sit her down.” 

My butt dropped on the chair, and Mama pulled out the drawer, taking out a first aid 

kit. 

“I have told him several times not to manhandle my girls.” 

“It was Milo,” one of the girls said before walking off to fix themselves at the mirror. 

“Of course I know that.” Mama sat in front of me to use the cotton on my cheek, but I flinched away. 

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111 A Doll In Distress [2] 

She slapped my thigh, and I gasped with wide eyes. “That was a warning.” 

I hissed when she dampened the cotton lightly on the bruise. 

“I know my girls… down to the birth mark on their skin. You’re not one of mine.” 

Relief washed over me, and even though she was clearly being a bitch right now, I was hoping to appeal to her in some way, before it’s too late. 

“I–I’m not. I came here with my friends, and I got lost.” 

“Hmm…” she hummed. “Then congratulations you’re about to leave here rich.” 

My heart dropped. “W–What?” 

She can’t be serious! 

“My advice? Play along if you don’t wanna get yourself killed.” 

I gritted my teeth when she pressed the cotton at the corner of my mouth that ached 

more. 

“This won’t do. Get me ice!” 

འ་འ 

My breath was shaky as I pulled down the shiver mini dress like I magically wanted it to grow longer. It was far too short, and I wore nothing beneath. 

With my platinum straight wig still on and the reapplied makeup that was sharper than the one I wore before. I don’t look like myself anymore. I looked like one of them. A doll. 

What am I gonna do? I’m about to entertain God knows who, and I could already picture what was gonna happen next. 

I need to think of something. I lost my phone and I’m basically stranded. I had a nagging feeling that after this, I won’t be allowed to leave because Milo still had a bone to pick with me. 

Think, Catherine, think! You got yourself in this mess; there must be a way out. 

Phone! I thought that, but having been here for over an hour, I hadn’t seen any cell on this cluttered table. Wait… needle. I saw one lipped in a feather, 

Looking over my shoulder, Mama was busy talking with one of her girls. I reached for it and clipped it at the rim of my dress. 

I don’t know what I’m gonna do with it, but its better than being empty–handed in this 

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situation. 

“They are here! Is she ready?” Milo stepped into the room, eyes roaming until they dropped on me. 

“Well, look at you,” His eyes darkened. “You’re mine after this.” 

“Milo…” Mama said in a warning tone. 

“Marcus is on my neck. Is she ready?” 

“What does she look like to you?” 

He dragged his gaze to me and smirked. “Maybe Marcus is right, she’s a diamond.” 

“Ashley was…” Mama retorted, still pissed that I was chosen. 

“Don’t be like that, Mama. You were the one holding out on me, you had something like this, and hid behind my back.” 

“What can I say, I keep the best for best,” she said proudly, taking credit for something that clearly wasn’t hers. 

I want to scream right now, but that’s not the best thing to do at the moment. 

I was led out of the dressing room. My eyes searched for any escape route I could use 

if I got the chance. I spotted a cook and realized there must be a kitchen nearby, which means a back door. If I could make it there. 

I gulped, thinking about how worried Tori and Athena must be; they must be looking for me now, and I pray they don’t get caught up in this too. 

We got to a suite not too far away from the VIP area, and as we made a turn in the lobby, I saw different men lining the wall, all wearing suits. 

I clenched my dress to keep from shaking, my heart pounding so loudly in my eardrums. 

I was told to wait as Milo walked into the room. I’m surrounded everywhere, and even if I tried to run, I won’t make it. 

“It’s such an honor to have you here.” 

I couldn’t tell if it was Milo or Marcus speaking. 

“This is just the encore. I assure you that in a month we’ll become the biggest. I know how much you value profit and this is gonna be just that.” 

“You gave a much better offer than Voss.” Another voice said. “You saved us the trouble 

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111 A Doll In Distress [2] 

of partnering with that snake. He would have run us in the mud before we even got the chance to speed up.” 

Voss? Are they talking about Noel Voss? 

“We’ve got something for you, consider it a gift.” 

I backed away, but I bumped into a guard who grabbed my arm. 

“She’s one of our specials. You’re gonna love her.” 

I was thrust forward, bracing my hand on the wall for balance. 

With a trembling body, I walked into the room, my seven–inch stilettos click–clacking sharply. I clenched and unclenched my hands as I lifted my gaze, overwhelmed by the three eyes on me. 

Milo and Marcus were seated opposite each other on the sofa, with someone in the middle. 

There was a brown cigar between his black gloved fingers, the bottom burning an angry red. His legs were crossed, and his expensive, shiny shoes mirrored the lights in the ceiling. 

I narrowed my eyes, straining to see, but the lights didn’t touch his face. All I could glimpse was a haze of smoke curling around him.