The blood pulsing through me freezes upon seeing the ugly man in the doorway. Now is not the time to make a run for it, though the thought briefly flashes through my mind. As though somehow sensing the possibility of my resistence, the woman who had given me water and helped me to dress, comes close to me. Her trembling hands reach out to tidy some stray hairs that the older woman seems to have missed before. Hardly audible even to my own ears, she leans in and whispers to me, her voice shaking with fear.
"Go now. Don't fight back, whatever you do. It will only make things more difficult for you."
She steps away, without another word, only giving me a nudge from behind to coax me forward. Having grown impatient, the gruff man huffs into the room and grabs me, clamping down heavy metal cuffs onto my wrists. He yanks me so hard that I nearly fall into him, but he stops me short and attaches a chain to my cuffs. They're so heavy that I feel like I'm going to drop to the floor with a clank if he gives the chain any slack. Standing with my knees pressed firmly together, I use all my might to erase any signs of fear from my face. After one last look at the women, I bite my bottom lip and inhale deeply, determined to be strong, no matter what awaits me.
I'm my father's daughter after all and going to make him proud! I turn back to the door, back to face my unknown future, 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 also explains the lack of windows. As I walk on, we pass by many doors, some with dim lights coming from the other side, some with only darkness peeking out from their crevices. One in particular appears to be oozing a deep colored fluid and I divert my gaze to avoid discerning it's true color. I don't want to see what it is. Who knows what kind of horrors are taking place behind these doors?
After what seems like an eternity of walking down a dark, eerie corridor, I see a little square of light peeping out from what appears to be bars on a steel door. It opens slowly as we draw near and I'm temporarily blinded by harsh sunlight, enveloping my face. We are now outside and the open air is warm on my previously chilled body. I hear voices. Many, many voices. As we climb a series of wooden steps and near the top, a man's voice rings out through a system of strange boxes. He talks so fast and loudly that it's difficult to understand what he's saying.
"We've got something special coming up, folks! Next on the auction block, we have us 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. But 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? Don't they want to know the work I'm capable of or what I can bring to the table? Do they not even 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? Bonafide... Nothing makes sense! 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. All I need is a plan, just one chance. Where there's a will, there's a way, and if there's a way, I'm going to find it! I just have to keep my cool and my head clear. When my opportunity arises, I'll take it.
"Are ya ready, folks? Here she is!", the announcer yells, and I'm pulled up the final step, onto a stage.
I feel like I've been punched in the chest and my heart sinks all the way down into my toes. Looking out at the crowd, I can't believe how many people are out there. Rows upon rows of faceless bodies line the whole place. Nothing but walls of people create a blockade, cutting me off from the open world, from freedom. 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 truly my cruel fate?
Before I realize what's going on, the chain attached to my wrists is hooked onto a pulley. A vicious clanking pulls my attention and my arms begin to rise above my head. I panic and try to pull away, but it's in vain. My feet barely touch the creaky wooden floor when the terrible sound stops, and thankfully, once the machine ceases to tighten and the chain relaxes a bit, I'm given just enough slack to allow my shoulders to stop being pulled out of their sockets. Still, the situation is dire. I'm stuck here, 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 good, long time!"
The crowd begins to cheer again and this time, the fast talking man comes over and roughly spins me around. He whistles sharply, my back now facing the audience, and then he whips me back around, where a large bright light now shines on my face. He reaches for my neck and I jerk away as much as I can while he laughs and turns to face the crowd. With a stiff grin planted on his face, he grabs my cheeks with force, and with his other hand, he pulls my hair, forcing my head back.
"Technical difficulty, folks!", he jests. "Would you just take a look at those lips! And those eyes! Wow, just wow, folks!"
I yelp in pain and the crowd only gets louder. They're enjoying this. These people are getting satisfaction out of my pain. 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."
Where the other voices are excited shouts and desperate bids, this voice is more of a calm declaration. This voice is different. There is no urgency, no emotion in it. It isn't hopeful or demanding. It's matter of fact. It's decisive. Unlike the other bidders, this low, steady voice puts in his bid as if he doesn't care whether or not he can even be heard by anyone but the announcer. And yet, that voice commands the attention of everyone around. The whole world stops for that voice, and the crowd goes silent.
"300... 300,000! Wow, folks! Do you hear that? We've got a real high bidder here! Do I hear a 301,000?"
The air fills with whispers but nobody else calls out a bid.
"Are you sure? 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 meekly begins to cheer once again before returning to a full roar.
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. All that I am is someone else's property now. I can't stand the thought of never running wild and barefoot through the open fields of bluebells or barley again. Will I ever again get the chance to paint the sunrise on the pond under the willow? The tears start flowing, their supply seemingly restored by the drink of water I wish I had savored just a little longer. Now what? Where do I go from here?
Heavens, please guide me out of this forsaken underworld I've found myself in!
3/31/2023 Edited!
People in the stands begin to get up and bustle about, off to meander until the next object of interest goes up for bid. The smell of something delicious lingering in the air is probably tempting them to go and spend their money for a taste of it. My stomach growls and I wish I had my father here to buy some food for us to eat together. Now isn't the time to think about food, Euroah, focus! The gruff man starts cranking a lever and the tension that had been pulling on my wrists lessens. An idea pops into my head and any thought of filling my stomach leaves me. Here it is! My arms start to lower and I see my only possible opportunity for escape. If I jump off the stage, I can probably run. There's got to be a way out that's just out of sight to the right or left of the stage. I just have to make a bet on which way. Beyond the stands is an entrance somewhere, otherwise all of these people couldn't have gotten in. As soon as the hook holding the end of my chain is low enough, I lower m
A shorter man appears in an identical black suit to the one worn by the man carrying me. He opens a back door on the car, while a third black suited man opens the door on the opposite side. I'm placed firmly into the seat and I glare out the window at the wretched people, walking to and fro, like a person isn't being treated like swine, merely feet away from them. My tears are once again dried up and I can see black streaks down my cheeks in the reflection of the tinted window. The black suit who carried me on his shoulder only moments ago bows to this new master of mine, who then turns and walks around to the other side of the car, settling into the seat beside me. The door closes with a thud on his side too, and the car begins to drive. I can feel the man's eyes on me but I have no more energy left to fight. There's no will left in my weakened, starved body. I dare not look back at him, preferring to travel in silence. Instead, I watch the road, trying to take my mind elsewhere
The slightest hint of satisfaction shows on his once emotionless face, and he asks his next question in a way that gives me shivers. As the sound of his deep voice vibrates in my ear drums, he rests his hand just below my belly button and proceeds to creep his fingers down to rest between my thighs. His firm grip engulfs the entirety of my most sensitive place and I tense up every muscle in my body. All I can do is hold my breath and shut my eyes. "Tell me, Euroah... Have you ever been touched right here?" A warm sensation comes over me, tingling through my core, and while it doesn't feel bad, it utterly terrifies me. Nothing but a thin pair of white cotton panties stands between his hand and my most precious flesh. My whole body trembles and shivers. This is shameful. But kicking and screaming won't help.I have to use my brain, use my words. Inhaling deeply, I attempt to regain my composure. With my fists clenched, I respond with as much confidence as I can muster, "No, Maste
Two identical black cars pull up behind the one I'm still sitting in, and more men in black suits get out of them. Like ducks in a row, they stop in front of my master and bow. This time, I recognize one of the faces. The one who had carried me over his shoulder appears at my door. I let out a yelp as he grabs me by the hips, pulling me so hard that I fall onto my back. With my legs bent at the knees, my feet drop and slam to the ground. What is he doing now? This can't be good! I gasp in shock when I see him start to pull out a folding knife, and I dig my nails into the leather of the seat when he whips it open. Do I scream? Am I about to lose my clothing again? Anything but that, not in front of al these people! I'll just drop dead of shame if every one of them bears witness to my humiliation. Suddenly, I feel a warm touch above my right knee. My master bends down to meet my gaze. "Are you going to be good?", he asks me. Nodding my head vigorously, I reply, "Yes Master!"
Hearing the faint echoes of whispers becoming audible all around me, I try to find my bearings. I can no longer move. What happened? Am I being restrained again? One of the women in a blue dress is cupping my face in her hands, but my eyes refuse to focus on which one she is. Then, a faceless man in a black suit leans down and cradles me in his arms. He scoops me up, and briskly continues down the corridor, following the women into a room. "What happened?" "I don't know, she just fell!" "Are we going to be fired?" "Shut up, Elise! Of course not. We didn't do anything wrong!" "Calm down, Anna! No need for harsh words. Akida will find out what happened and clear everything up." "Hurry up unless you all really do want to lose your jobs! Benny, you get out of here. Marie, go get some water. Anna, towels. I'll get her clothes." A door closes in the distance, and I feel myself being tugged around a bit. The world is a haze and no matter how hard I try to see through it,
Micro... Micro means something very small. Chip? I vaguely recall my master mentioning something about his company making them, but I don't understand the concept, so I nod my head, 'No'. She digs in her case and pulls out a plastic tube with a needle at the end. It's sealed in a plastic wrapper with a white paper backing. Walking over to me, she lays it on the bed and I sit up, pulling the blanket tightly around my chest. I scan the packaging with my eyes for a moment, before looking at the words. "Micro-Claim" I read aloud. "Legally Acquired Slave Identification Device". "This is a microchip. We call them LASIDs, for short. Until recently, we used to brand slaves with a tattoo.", she begins. "But in the cases where they escaped, it was difficult to track them down. It was a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Trackers sometimes resold the slaves or held them for ransom. It often didn't end well. Zion, I mean your master's company came up with a way to both mark and track slaves, a
Laying my head back on the pillow, I curl up and hug up as much of the blanket as I can. There are so many emotions going on in my heart right now. For one thing, I'm angry. I'm so beyond furious at the men who took me away from my home, away from my father, away from my happy life. I was perfectly fine far away from all the people who want to hurt me this way. And I'm sad. Actually, sad is clearly an understatement, but I can't think of a better word at the moment. Not that I'm dumb or uneducated. It's just that there aren't any adjectives that I feel correctly express my pain. The loss of my father has cut me deeply, but it feels so unreal, so impossible that I don't think I'm even truly allowing myself to accept that he's gone and process the grief. I'm relieved that I have met this woman named Akida. She has been the only person, other than the woman who offered me water at the auction house, who has truly shown me compassion, sympathy, and kindness, since this all began. Hav
The hallway leading to the staircase is shorter than I remember it appearing to be last night, and it takes no time at all to reach it. We turn right and walk back behind the staircase, through the perfectly placed sofas, and head toward the wall lined with windows. This time, I can see clearly what lies behind them. A beautiful garden with paved walkways, majestic trees, and many varieties of flowers stretches as far as my eyes can see. It's like an enchanted forest in his back yard! From what I'd seen last night, I thought that the fireplace was attached to the wall, but behind it is an alcove with a set of white doors, and paned glass windows. Two black suited men, wearing bow ties pull the doors open, while Elise and Anna walk through. I start to follow, but pause before stepping out onto the path, to look at my bare feet. It's not that I haven't run barefoot through the fields a million times before. In fact, I quite prefer living life without being tied down by shoestrings