"Put this on." My father didn't look at me when he threw the dress onto the bed. White, soft, expensive dress.
"Dad, where are we heading to?" I asked. There was no reply.
He went out of the room. The silence that follows a slammed door. The silence that stretched too long after a phone call. I had a feeling something wasn't right. Moments later, he came back, but this time the atmosphere in my room felt suffocating. The smell of alcohol lingering in the air.
"Why aren't you dressed up yet?" Dad asked.
I was quiet. Not knowing what to say. But deep down I knew my father was up to something before it actually happened. You don't grow up in a house like mine without learning to read silence. I stared at the dress, my fingers curling into the thin blanket beneath me. "Where am I going?"
He laughed.
"You'll get to know very soon. It's somewhere you'll finally be useful," he said.
"What kind of a father are you? "I wish Mom were alive," I said to him as my voice panicked.
But he crossed the room in two strides and grabbed my chin, forcing my face up.
"You should be grateful," he said, his breath
stink with alcohol. "So you know what you're worth?"
I didn't answer. His grip tightened. "More than you have ever been to me." His words cut me like a sharp knife piercing through me.
That was the moment everything became real. He had said something final.
"Now put on these clothes and meet me at the dining room," he demanded furiously.
After hesitating for a while, I nodded.
Satisfied with my expression, he released his grip and left without any regretful look on his face.
Eventually, I was walking downstairs dressed in a white gown. I saw my father placing some apple juice on the dining table. As I approached the dining room, he smiled as he admired the lovely dress.
"You look sparkling." He said as he handed me a cup of apple juice he was holding. "Drink up quickly, we don't wanna be late."
Without thinking too much, I collected the juice from him and drank a little. I couldn't refuse. I'd learned that. Not too long after, I started to feel dizzy; my senses became numb. I could see my dad but not clearly, in a blurry way, and the last expression I could see as he watched me was a smirk on his face before passing out.
By the time we arrived, I could still see, but everything felt so fast and far away, like I was watching my life through glass. My father had drugged me before I left the house. How could he do that to his child? I thought to myself.
I could feel the cold burn. The way my limbs slowly refused me. There were so many blurred voices together. I could hear the voice of laughter and the sound of music all at once.
I was half carried into a large room filled with people dressed in black and gold. There were too many men. Everything felt shining and glittering, but the atmosphere seemed like something deep was going on. Something dangerous. Girls were lined up against the wall, each one dressed like me, white gown.
My heart began to beat more forcefully. It was beating quicker and louder.
I was trapped in a haze of confusion and dread. The clapping grew louder, echoing in my ears like a drumbeat of impending doom. My heart raced as I strained to comprehend my surroundings. Each heartbeat felt like a countdown to something terrible. The voice lingered, taunting me with its calmness. I wanted to scream, to break free, but my body remained a prisoner. What was happening? I needed answers, yet all I could do was listen to the strange auction unfolding around me.
"Easy," a voice murmured near my ear. "You'll be on soon."
"On? What does that mean?" I thought to myself.
I tried so hard to figure out what could be happening, but I could not. Then all of a sudden, someone pushed me forward; the room went quiet.
The bright lights turned towards my direction, and I stumbled, barely catching myself. My vision swam in disbelief as I saw hundreds of eyes looking at me. They all sat there, looking wealthy and fabulous, their eyes evaluating, judging, and scanning my presence. I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me, wondering if I truly belonged in this setting. The atmosphere was electric, filled with whispers and laughter, each sound amplifying my discomfort. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart and regain my composure. I wrapped my arms around myself instinctively. Trying to disappear, but it only made things worse. A few men among the seated chuckled.
"Pretty one, look at her shake."
"Untouched," another commented.
The words made my skin burn in embarrassment. At that moment, I knew all that was happening already. It was an auction. I wanted to fight. But I couldn't do anything. I was helpless. I was trapped inside my body.
A voice cuts the silence. "Lot number seventeen," the man beside me announced smoothly. "Nineteen years old. Exceptional condition."
My hands clenched, and my nails dug into my palms. I felt so disgusted at the sight of what was happening to me.
"Exceptional condition," like I wasn't even human.
I wished the Earth's ground could open up and take me. My heart burned in pain as tears rolled down the sides of my eyes. Wishing it was all a dream, but unfortunately it was nothing but an abuse.
"Starting bid—one million," the auctioneer announced out loud. The first number hit me like a slap.
Then another voice. "Two." "Three." "Six."
The numbers rushed so fast it stopped making sense. I felt eagerness and competition in the voices, overlapping each other like they were fighting over a piece of art or gold.
My breathing ceased; it was erratic. This isn't real, and it shouldn't be happening, but it was. Every second of it came with a different voice and price.
"Seven million". Another voiced out.
"Eight," another said
"Eight point five." It continued.
I squeezed my eyes shut because I couldn't bear it anymore.
"Please, please let it stop." My voice slightly weak, I could barely hear myself.
Just then,
"Ten Million."
The word cut through the room like a blade. Who would bid for such an amount on me, making me open my eyes slowly to see who talked.
Deep and controlled. The hall went silent instantly. Even in my drugged state, I felt it, the tension. The way the air itself seemed to obey the voice. He stood near the back, holding a cigarette in his hand.
He was talk, broad and still.
His presence demanded instant respect. Everything about him felt different in a way, than the others. Not loud. Not eager. But controlled and cold. His gaze was fixed on me as if examining a product, not with hunger but something far beyond my understanding. He stepped a little bit closer away from the doorway. The auctioneer cleared his throat nervously.
"Ten million…going…once." No one spoke.
Everywhere was so silent as no one dared to utter a word.
"Going twice," still no response. My legs shivered beneath my ribs.
"No, please don't let it be him. I did not know why, but from his appearance, I knew he was worse." I thought to myself as I pleaded against my breath.
"Sold." The sound echoed like a gunshot. My face turned to the auctioneer, wishing I could keep him shut, but it was late, and just like that, I belonged to a stranger.
Unexpectedly, I felt a hand holding my arm; two bodyguards had already come from nowhere and grabbed me away from the stage. Unaware of where I was going. They brought me to him, or maybe I was delivered. I couldn't tell anymore. My legs barely walked as I guided forward, my vision still blurred, my thoughts slow and heavy. He didn't touch me at first. He just looked at me. Next to him, he was even more intimidating. Scars marked his jaw, faint but visible. His grey, unreadable eyes fixed into mine with unsettling intensity. And it wasn't with pity or desire either. But recognition. That terrified me the most.
"Look at me," he said quietly, his voice calm but cold.
I already was. But something in his tone made my spine straighten despite the drug still taking effect in my body.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked, while his gaze was still fixed on me. I shook my head weakly.
"Good. "He said.
He reached into his coat and handed something to the man beside me. I assumed. More than I could ever imagine, a transaction so simple and final.
The man received the payment without much delay and smirked at my condition before exiting. His expression instantly made me feel that something wasn't right.
Then his attention returned to me.
"You're coming with me." His word was not a request but a command. My throat listened.
"Please…" The word slipped out before I could stop it. Barely audible. His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes that I couldn't name.
"Safe," I said out of shock. The word felt like a lie, because men like him didn't buy ladies like me to keep them safe.
"Bring her along." He told his security men.
And that's when I knew that I hadn't been saved, not a bit. I had been claimed.