Chapter 83
Markus
“Stop crying, whore!” one of the men orders. “If you think it’s bad now, wait until after the auction. I’d love to hear your cries then.”
His voice makes me shiver and leaves me feeling sick to my stomach. Suddenly, I’m grateful that I didn’t eat anything. Even though I was hungry earlier, I couldn’t bring myself to take a single bite from the stale sandwich they brought me.
The guy suddenly looks past me and nods. “Finally. I thought we were gonna have to send them out without a shot.”
Shot? What are they talking about now? Just as I ask that question in my mind, a woman appears at the side of me. A woman in scrubs with a hospital ID card clipped to her hip.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.
I look up and meet her gaze, expecting to see fear, compassion, or shock, but I find none of those in the depth of her green eyes.
Only indifference. Like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
“What are you doing?” I ask when she stops right in front of me.
“Don’t talk, please,” she answers in a flat voice.
She keeps her eyes down like she doesn’t want to look into my face while she pulls out a small box from her oversized purse. Flipping the case open, I count five syringes inside.
“Hold her arm,” she orders one of the men.
A moment later, my arm is being grabbed and held still so the woman can clean a spot with an alcohol wipe before injecting me with whatever is inside the syringe. Funny, she cleans my arm, worried I might get an infection but fails to care what is happening to all of us.
“What was that?” I ask, hoping she’ll at least give me the courtesy of telling me.
“Birth control,” is all she says before moving on down the line of girls.
“Men buy you for fucking, not breeding.” The guy who was holding my arm chuckles and releases me with a shove.
He walks away, moving onto the next girl, and a spot in my chest starts to ache for the girl beside me. I don’t know her story, how she came to be here, if it was of her own choice or someone else’s. I don’t know the circumstances that gave her this fate, but I want to help her.
“Hey…” I call out. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.” I try to reassure her.
She looks over at me, and I notice then that her eyes are green and framed by thick lashes that are soaked. The skin around her eyes is swollen from the constant crying.
“I… I want to go home.” Her bottom lip trembles as she speaks, and her chest rises and falls so dramatically I know she is close to having an anxiety attack.
“My name’s Fallon,” I tell her, attempting to distract her. “What’s yours?”
The girl looks away for a second before looking back. “Julie,” she replies after a moment. I’m not sure how to comfort her because while I’m not showing it, I’m scared out of my mind on the inside. I have no idea what will happen to me after tonight.
Where will I go? Fear of the unknown is the only thing I have.
“It’s okay to be scared, Julie. Everything is going to be okay,” I assure her, even though we both know it’s a lie. But what else am I going to tell her? What can I do to ease her mind, even if it’s just a little?
Shaking her head, she sends pieces of dark hair across her face. “It’s not going to be okay,” her voice cracks with raw pain, “aren’t you scared? Afraid of what will happen to you tonight?” Her questions make it hard for me to swallow.
I try not to focus on the future or what will happen tomorrow. It’s not promised for any of us, especially not under these circumstances.
“Yes, I’m afraid. I’m terrified, but I can’t let that fear own me. I won’t.”
“Then you’re stronger than me,” she shamefully admits.
“How did you end up here?” I ask, not wanting the conversation to end yet.
I’ve been stuck inside my head all day, trying to figure out my next step. Now that I’m here, I know the decision has already been made for me.
Her lip trembles and her eyes become glassy once more. “My father. He owed some money to the wrong person, and because he couldn’t pay, they took me instead.”
Heartbreaking.
Her response reminds me that we’re all fighting our own invisible battles, merely trying to get through today so we can see a better tomorrow.
“What about you?”
“I…” I’ve tried not to think about the circumstances that have gotten me to this point. At nineteen, I never thought I would find myself in a situation like this, but I can’t undo what is already done. “Someone grabbed me as I walked home after class.”
Julie nods. “What do you think they’ll do with us after the auction?”
She whispers the question almost as if she knows the fate that lies ahead but is too afraid to see it with her own eyes.
I shiver involuntarily, fear coiling tightly in my gut. A man willing to buy any one of us isn’t going to take us home to merely clean his house and cook for him. He’s going to use us, over and over again, leaving us a shell of the person we used to be. Nothing innocent will come from whoever purchases us.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think it will be anything good,” I reply honestly, licking my dry bottom lip. My throat tightens, and the fear I’ve been trying to swallow down and keep at bay starts to rise up again.
I’ve mentally prepared myself to be raped and caged by the man who is going to buy me, but what if it gets even worse?