Hansel 1-4: The Complete Series Read Free

breath out slowly.
    We’re walking again, and I try my best to breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth.
    “You seem edgy,” Lana says as the last of the people who were behind us walk around us, leaving us at the back of the pack.
    “Maybe because it’s so crowded,” Laura says, ignoring me and looking at Lana.
    “Maybe because we’re going to watch sex,” I murmur.
    I feel instantly guilty. This is what my sister wants to do on her last weekend as a single woman. I should be a good bridesmaid and keep my mouth shut.
    Just because this place happens to remind me of Mother’s House doesn’t mean I have the right to ruin this night for Lana.
    Let’s be honest, Leah; you don’t really remember. I entered The House, was led to my room, and left it seventeen months later. Without a visual memory to confirm the dread this place incites in me, I’m going on nothing but emotion, adrenaline, and a vague sense of anticipation.
    I remember what I learned in rehab, where I spent three months almost a year ago: How, when this intense anxiety surfaces, it’s usually triggered by feelings. Feelings I haven’t dealt with. Ones that somehow relate to my experience as a captive.
    In this case, I can almost guarantee I know the trigger: sex.
    This place probably doesn’t even look like Mother’s House. It’s just my mind, playing tricks, because I’ve been thinking about The House, and Hansel.
    We walk past a few more flickering torches, and one of the small, wood doors punched into the stone hallway walls opens. I flinch a little and both my sisters’ eyes flicker to me. Thankfully, we’re all distracted by the ripped, bouncer-looking guy who steps out of the door in a black wife-beater and black jeans with black sneakers.
    He clears his throat and flashes us a handsome smile. “You might want to pick up the pace, ladies. The show started several minutes ago. If you’re much later, you may miss it. No late entrances once we get past the five minute mark. Unless,” he says, looking us up and down, “you’re here for Edgar?”
    “We are,” Lana says with a bob of her spiky head. “Eleven-thirty in The House, right?”
    My lungs freeze mid-inhale. Did she just say The House ?
    The bouncer looks from me to Lana. “Let me see your stub.”
    Laura and Lana reach into their pockets in unison. They turn their right hands in exactly the same way and dig into the pockets of their pants with exactly the same motion.
    “You guys must be triplets,” says the bouncer.
    There’s a round of yes es; one from me? Maybe not… I’ve mashed my lips together, pancaked, like a fish, and am drawing air through my nose in frenzied breaths.
    Luckily, their attention is still on Mr. Muscles with the left-lobe earring and the perfect teeth.
    “Yep,” he says, holding up Lana’s ticket stub. “You’re here to see Edgar. Follow me, and I’ll make sure you get there. Are you all donors?” he asks as he starts walking. He looks over his shoulder, and Lana and Laura follow, tight on his heels.
    “We are,” Lana says. “Well, I am. These two are just my beneficiaries for tonight.”
    Laura glances at me and makes a face, and we pick up our pace to keep up with Lana and the club guy.
    The torches throw shadows over Lana and the broad-backed guy, adding another dimension of movement to their walking; making me feel dizzy.
    Maybe you were hearing things, Leah. Or not. The House? It’s hardly a unique name. It could just be the name of a certain area within the club. Maybe one that’s decorated like a quaint little house or something. I don’t know.
    But still, I can’t seem to get a good, deep breath.
    I begin to tremble, little vibrations starting somewhere near my throat and spreading outward, everywhere.
    Laura notices and drops back beside me, grabbing my hand as Lana chats it up with club guy, who leads us into another hallway—this one lit by torches, too.
    Between the shifting shadows, I make out something on the