Her silent wars

Number 28

chapter 2 : "Number 28"

The girls lived under strict surveillance. They were only allowed out of their bunks when assigned a task, and men from the facility followed them everywhere to prevent escape. Mabel learned to be tough fast — she and the other Black girls were the constant targets of the blonde girls’ cruelty.

Their days were measured in small humiliations. Every minute was scheduled. Meals came on plates no larger than a palm, portions so small they didn’t even cover half the plate. The girls were always hungry, always exhausted.

One morning a fierce-looking man — Job Bob, they called him — barked down the corridor, “Number 3, 46, 28, 32 — step out to the main office!” Four girls, including Mabel, scrambled from their bunks and hurried toward the office. When the madame summoned someone, it meant either punishment or an errand beyond the walls.

At the office door two men stood like sentries. The madame herself waited inside — tall, fair, her delicate features softened by a careful hand of makeup. She looked innocent and composed, but the softness was a lie. Behind that polished mask was a woman who would not hesitate to destroy anyone who crossed her.

“Send them in,” she said, voice calm as porcelain.

The girls shuffled inside and sat where they were told. The madame poured tea and watched them with a patient, piercing gaze. “I have a task for you four,” she said. “You’re going to deliver a message for me.” She handed a paper to a bodyguard, who then passed a copy to each girl. “You have two minutes to decide who will run this errand.”

Hands trembled as they read. Eyes darted, searching for any scrap of courage. Finally, a blonde girl cleared her throat. “Ma’am, we’ve decided.”

The madame inclined her head. “And who will it be?”

A hush fell. The blonde swallowed and hissed, “The black monkey — number 28.”

A bodyguard snapped, “Speak up!”

“The one numbered twenty-eight, ma’am,” the blonde repeated, louder.

The madame’s eyes landed on Mabel. “Who is number 28?”

Mabel rose, a hot lump of fear clogging her throat. Tears blurred her vision. “It’s me, ma’am.”

The madame’s smile vanished. “Number 28,” she said quietly, “you know exactly what I expect. Leave no one alive. Do I make myself clear?”

Mabel’s whisper trembled, “Yes, ma’am.”

The madame turned to the others. “Take the rest to the solitary cell — that’s for betraying a sister. You should have consulted her first.”

“No! Ma’am, please!” the girls begged, but their pleas were swallowed by the room.