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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Alister – Ten years ago

“Papa, why must she wear only white?” My brother Ian and I were watching our father bleach the unconscious woman’s hair. Her head was balancing in the bathroom sink as her pale lips parted.

“Speak quietly, Alister!” he hissed at me. Papa was wearing white surgical scrubs. His hair—a bright blonde that matched Ian’s—was combed over neatly. Our whole home was all white. We all were forced to wear the green-colored contact lenses as well. My hair was black like Mother’s, and no matter how much Papa would try to bleach it, it’d never look like theirs.

Mother’s hair was long and beautiful. She chose to keep it tied in a neat bun and wore a blonde wig, instead. When Papa wasn’t home, she’d take it off and dance with us outside, letting her long, raven-like locks fly around her. She didn’t choose to marry Papa; she was forced to when she was trafficked from India as a teenager. Papa said it was his one piece of color in his life.

She wasn’t meant for this life, and neither was I. But Papa had saved Mother in some ways. She was trafficked into Papa’s business of death, but he fell in love with her. She was the favorite girl for him. She knew that defying him would land her in one of the all-white cages where the girls were deprived of their senses. I preferred darkness—I thought it did a far better job at sensory deprivation. There was nothing more fear-inducing than obscurity. There was nothing more peaceful and depriving than total loss of control of your environment. But Papa never listened to me. He thought white was superior—which was another reason he wanted to marry Mother. He said the color of their skin also depicted the social class difference. He was more worthy than her because of his skin tone. Ian was oddly fair compared to me. I had seen Papa bleach his skin once and take him somewhere anytime he had any kind of tan on his skin. We were forced to wear long sleeves even when it was painfully hot.

I once offered Papa this brilliant advice of changing the white therapy to dark, but he slapped me and told me to let Ian learn the family business properly. He told me I would never be man enough to withhold the Ivory name because I was my mother’s softened shadow.

“Frederick.” My mother walked in on all of us cleaning the woman in the bathtub after Papa had bleached her hair and attached an IV to her vein.

“Lana, please prepare for the welcoming ceremony of the caged girl.” Papa smiled as Ian and I scrubbed her naked body with soap.

Papa turned to us. “Make sure to get under the fingernails.” My mother and I looked at one another in a way that I knew she was trying to comfort me.

“Of course, my love.” She glanced over at my brother, who never once stopped cleaning the woman. Papa waited until Mother left, then exhaled slowly before speaking.

“My sons, you must marry a woman with a broken wing, because once you repair it and help her fly, then you have all the power. You hold the key to the gilded cage that she will stay and serve you from. She thinks she’s the favorite girl in your world, but really, she’s nothing more than the caged girl, born to serve and obey you.”

Ian’s jaw ticked slightly as he nodded and absorbed our father’s evil. I didn’t want to keep a woman in a cage and do this. I looked at the nearly dead woman lying in the bathtub.

“Did you hear me, Alister? Ian already has the family business mapped out. He’s going to carry on my legacy of submissive brides for the wealthy men who need an obedient counterpart. He’s going to carry on all of what I have poured my blood, sweat, and tears into.” Papa stood and grabbed a towel to dry his hands. “And what are you going to do, son?”

The entire bathroom smelled like bleach and soap.

“I don’t…I don’t know,” I murmured as Ian laughed and mimicked my words.

“A real man finds a problem and solves it. Are you a real man?” I could tell Papa was becoming irate.

“Yes, Papa.” I stood quickly and straightened my shoulders. “I was thinking I should create an escape.”

I licked my bottom lip as Papa’s face lit up with curiosity. “An escape?”

Really, I just wanted to escape this house. The all white, sterile environment. “Yes, an all-inclusive and exclusive resort for those who are looking to release their inner demons, urges, and desires.” My heart was racing as my father waved me out of the bathroom, leaving his golden son behind. For the first time in my life, I felt seen by him.

“Tell me more.” His hands were crossed behind his back as we walked down the stark hallways that were only lined with black-and-white images of strange features. Features of women who were kept captive on the other side of the estate.

“Papa, sometimes I feel anger and rage, and I want to hurt someone. I want to feel powerful and be in control of their life.” My cheeks warmed as I confessed this to my father.

He stopped at the end of the hallway and swiftly pushed me against the wall. His hand wrapped around my neck as my eyes shot wide open, and I began to choke on the lack of air.

His face was emotionless as he continued squeezing and saliva trickled down my lips as I tried to pry his fingers off.

“Please,” I pleaded. But he didn’t stop until I began to see stars and tunnel vision set in.

Finally, as my eyes began to close, he let go. I hunched over and began coughing violently as he took a step back in his platform white shoes.

“Papa,” I cried as the pain penetrated through my throat.

“I feel like the most powerful man in the world. I am the most powerful man in the world. Your life was in my hands, and there is nothing more masculine that that.” Papa began walking away and stopped.

“Come. Come now, son.” Following him, we began walking toward the side of the estate I’d never been to. “Shoes.” He pointed at the basket full of the same platform white sandals we were forced to wear whenever we were anywhere in the house close to this side.

Papa swiped his badge over the keypad, and the door silently slid open. I stared down the hallway. Everything was white and excessively clean, and there were small fluorescent lights above each door.

I walked closely behind Papa before we turned to a room that didn’t quite match the others.

He opened the doors and together, we went in. It was a conference room with marble floors, and there was a glass window on one side that had another room with a small cot and a young girl inside.

Papa continued over to the popcorn machine. “My favorite snack to eat while watching her.” He smiled at me. I looked at her as she stood and made her way to the glass. Her thin frame was covered with an almost translucent white gown. Her long blonde hair looked tangled and the bags under her eyes were deep and dark.

“When I was a boy, I wished for a hamster.” Papa handed me a bucket of popcorn. “But my father said, ‘Why would you cage an animal when you can cage a woman?’ Women don’t realize they are, in fact, more powerful than men. They carry life, they can comfort and weaken a man through lust and desire. It’s our job, Alister, to make sure we hold the power. An Ivory man doesn’t just hold the power above women, but also above all other men. You must always have something over their heads to be successful and powerful.”

Papa started to eat the popcorn before leaning back in a chair. “You’re eighteen now. I’ve waited longer than my father did.”

“For what, Papa?” I asked as I watched him stare at the young woman with tears streaming down her face.

“To watch you become a man.”

I wanted to die. Ian told me what Papa made him do when he was eighteen. He was gloating about it while I knew it may kill me.

“There’s a concealed door through the side.” He handed me his badge. “Swipe my badge and then go in the cage and show us you are a man.”

“Papa, I don’t…I don’t want to do this. Please,” I pleaded with him as I looked down at the floor.

Not even ten seconds later, he lifted his hand and slapped me across the face. “You are a fucking pathetic little boy.” He stood and threw the popcorn to the side. I gripped my cheek as my flesh burned and my father went into the stark white room.

He swung his fists at the girl before he slammed her into the small cot and strangled her. He looked straight at me as he choked her.

My lips parted and I didn’t know what to do. If I tried to help her, he’d kill us both. Papa slid his pants off and forced himself over her. The room was soundproofed so I couldn’t hear her screams, but I could feel them in my soul as her mouth opened. Then she looked over at me and mouthed, “You did this,” before closing her eyes and laying there as my father raped her.

“You coward.” I could see her lips form into the cruel words. How dare she? Father was right; women had no right to do this. But the reason Papa didn’t hurt Mother was because he was using the caged girls to get his desires and rage out. This was the reason we were a happy family. I could do this for others; I could become powerful in my own way.