Chapter 4

The woman who had given me water and helped me to dress comes close to me as she pretends to fix my hair, whispering in my ear, "Go now. Don't fight back, whatever you do. It will only make things more difficult for you."

She steps away, giving me a nudge from behind. Having grown impatient, the gruff man huffs into the room and grabs me, clamping heavy metal cuffs onto wrists. He yanks me so hard that I nearly fall into him but he stops me and attaches a chain to the cuffs. After one last look at the women, I turn away and am led down a dark corridor. Could this be a tunnel? Have I been underground this whole time? No wonder it was so cold! That explains the lack of windows. As we walk, I pass many doors. Who knows what kind of horrors are taking place behind them.

After what seems like an eternity, I see a little square of light peeping out from what appears to be bars on a steel door. It opens slowly as we drew near and I'm temporarily blinded by harsh sunlight. We are now outside and the open air is warm on my chilled body. I hear voices. Many, many voices. We climb a series of wooden steps and near the top, a man's voice rings out through a system of boxes strange boxes. He talks so fast and loud that it's difficult to understand him.

"We've got something special coming up, folks! Next on the auction block, we have a rare blue eye!"

A rare blue eye? Ah! That's right... I forgot that my kind have practically died out. Father once told me that brown eyes are stronger than blue eyes in the blood and because of that, there are only a few people like me left in the world. My mother was a blue eye too, the only other he had ever seen. Why does that have to be my selling point? My blue eyes are such a small piece of who I am. This is so unfair! Don't they care that I have thoughts and feelings? Do they not consider me human?

"That's right folks! Not just a blue eye, but a real pretty one! She's been evaluated and she's also a bonafide virgin!"

What does he mean by that? I'm terrified at this point and I feel my breaths growing shorter, my heart beating at a rapid pace. The crowd gets louder and I want to turn around and run. But I know there's no way out the way I came. I have to go out there. It's my only chance at escape.

"Are ya ready, folks? Here she is!", the announcer yells and I'm pulled up the final step and onto a stage.

I feel like I've been punched in the chest and my heart sinks to my toes. Looking out at the the crowd, I can't believe how many people are out there. Rows upon rows of faceless bodies line the whole place. There's no way out in sight. I feel like a pig being sent to slaughter as buyers fight over what price they're willing to pay for the cut they want. Is this my fate?

Before I realize what's going on, the chain attached to my wrists is hooked onto a pulley and my arms are raised above my head. I panic and try to pull away but it's in vain. I'm stuck there with nowhere to go.

"Watch out! This one's feisty!", the loud man says. "She's 5'3" and 108 pounds. We couldn't verify but she appears to be around 18 years of age. You'll get your money worth out of her for sure! That's right, ladies and gentlemen! She'll be useful for a long, long time!"

The crowd begins to cheer again and this time, the man comes over and spins me around, my back facing the audience, and then he turns me back, showing them my face. He reaches for my neck and I pull away as much as I can while he laughs and faces the crowd.

"Technical difficulty, folks!", he jests and then he grabs my face with force and with his other hand, pulls my hair, forcing my head back. "Would you just take a look at those lips! And those eyes! Wow, just wow, folks!"

I yelp in pain and they only get louder. How insane! These people are sick!

"We'll start the bidding at 15,000! Do I hear a 16,000?"

"16,000!" yells a faceless voice in the crowd.

"$17,000!" screams another.

How are there so many people who think that this is okay? Where do they all come from? The voices keep coming, one after another. 20,000. 25,000. 30,000. Then the bids start to come more slowly. Suddenly, a new voice calls out, breaking the bidding sequence.

"300,000."

This voice is different. There is no urgency, no emotion in it. It isn't an excited shout like the other bids. His low, steady voice says it as if he doesn't care wether or not his bid can be heard by anyone but the announcer. The crowd goes silent.

"300... 300,000! Wow, folks! do you hear that? We've got a real high roller here! Do I hear a 301,000?"

The air fills with whispers but nobody else calls out a bid.

"Alrighty then! 300,000 going once, 300,000 going twice, sold for 300,000 symbals to number 37!" says the quick talking man as the crowd cheers once again.

So this is what my life amounts to. Everything I've ever done, all my hopes and dreams, everything I've cared about only amounts to this. I am is someone else's property now. I can't stand the thought of never running wild and free through the open fields of bluebells again. Will I ever again get the chance to paint the sunrise on the pond under the willow? The tears start flowing, their supply restored by the drink of water I wish I had savored a little longer. Now what? Where do I go from here?

Heavens, please guide me out of this hell I've found myself in!