Chapter 1

This story is crafted from my imagination, I won't tolerate my work being translated into another language or being copied to another site. Anyone who violate my copyright claims will be severely punished.

All characters and events found in this story are fictional, if related to person living or dead it's purely coincidental. No part of this work should be reproduced, transmitted or distributed in any form whatsoever, including photocopying, mechanical or electronic methods, recording and various types of other methods.

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This

book

is

crafted from my

own

imagination and is

considered

to

be

mine.

Kellisa Kelly 💋

**************

The air is thick with expensive perfume, sweat and fear. 

Not mine though. 

I am sitting on a velvet stool in front of a glided mirror with a straight spine despite the ache in my ribs. The woman behind me works in silence, dabbing at the bruises along my jaw and effectively blending them away like they were never there.  Another is kneeling beside me sealing the wounds on my arms and ribs with practiced efficiency. 

They do not speak. Women like them, like me, are expected to keep quiet. To obey. To endure. 

But I am not like them.

I will not be quiet. I will not endure. I will survive by whatever cost necessary. 

I study my reflection. Beneath the layers of powder, blush, and deep red lipstick. I look almost untouched. Almost. But nothing can hide the fire in my eyes. They want me to look desirable, fragile--- a doll to be played with then discarded.  

They have no idea the person they have created.   

I should not be here. I should be planning a wedding, choosing invitation, tasting cakes. I should have been laughing, dreaming about a future filled with love... somewhere far from this cruel and grimy place. 

Instead, I was sold like property because of a man I once trusted. 

Jason was reckless. That man was addicted to risks. He was a gambler, a liar and a fucking coward. I ignored the flashing scenes for too long because I was stupidly blinded by love, I made excuses every time he came home later, every time money went missing. 

Then one night he made a bet he couldn't cover. A bet with men who do not forgive. My sister died because of him. And I? I was the payment. 

Jason had run. Disappeared into the shadows like a cockroach when the light turns off. He left me to pay for his sins. He left me to be handed over to these traffickers as compensation and I've been here ever since. 

 Time drags differently when you are in captivity. Days blur and nights stretch endlessly, so I'm not a hundred percent sure how long it actually has been. Weeks--- perhaps months--- but throughout all this time I've come to learn one thing: fear is a chain. The moment you stop fearing them they lose their power. 

That is why I do not beg... at least not anymore. I've quickly learnt that begging makes those sadistic bastards smile. They like to see women break, see their hope crumble. I refuse to give them even an ounce of that satisfaction. 

Instead, I watch, listen and wait. 

They think that I'm just another girl, another body to be auctioned off and passed around. They are sadly mistaken, whenever I get the chance to sink my teeth.... 

"Stay still," the woman fixing my makeup murmurs. 

I obey... for now. 

Beyond the door, heavy footsteps echo down the hall. The auction is about to begin. 

I inhale slowly, steadying my heartbeat. My fingers flex against the silk of the dress they'd forced me in--- it's deep red, like blood. Like war. 

I have no intentions of staying here for a second longer. 

One way or another, tonight I'll be free even if that means bathing in blood to do it. 

The door creaks open and a man steps in. He's tall and built like a brick, dressed in a black suit that is rolled up to reveal forearms that are littered with tattoos. The man's presence fills the room like a shadow that is thick and suffocating. 

His dark eyes sweep over me before he roughly grabs my arm and brushes the other women away. 

I wince at the sore spot he's squeezing but I don't make a sound. 

His thin lips curl into something that resembles a smirk. The fucker wants a reaction. Pain, fear, something to prove that he has control over me. 

I stare back at him with a blank expression. I refuse to give him what he wants. 

"You're up next sweetheart," he grunts, then yanks me to my feet and drags me to the door. 

My bare feet barely touch the cold tiled marble as he hauls me down the dimly lit hallway, pass muffled voices and closed doors. The scent of cologne, sweat and expensive liquor lingers in the air. 

I don't fight, not yet. I am saving my strength, let them believe that I am just another broken girl accepting her fate. But very step closer is s step to freedom. All I need is a weapon, one unguarded door, a moment of distraction... 

The door looms ahead, carved with intricate designs that fail to hide the horror of this wretched place. The man's grip on my hands tightens as we approach, his fingers are digging even further into my bruised skin. Still, I don't flinch or react, I just let my body go slack like a puppet on a string, waiting for the right moment to sever them. 

The heavy doors swing open to reveal a grand ball that is bathed in golden light. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling; there crystals refract the glow onto polished men dressed in tailored suits and posh women in silks and diamonds. The lounge about in plush chairs, sipping expensive drinks and murmuring amongst themselves like this is just another night at an opera viewing. 

But the stage isn't set for viewing, it's set for flesh. 

The grand platform stands at the center of the room, with a golden fabric that acts as the glamorous background. The air is electric with anticipation as another girl is yanked from the stage. She stumbles and the audience laughs in a jeering tone. Bile rises in my throat at the interaction, but I swallow it. 

"Move," the man at my side growls as he shoves me forward. 

Ii walk. Every step I take, I commit the details to memory. The placement of the guards, the weapons tucked beneath their jackets and the nearest exits. They are too many eyes on me now but that will soon change. The moment I make my move; chaos will surely follow. 

I am led up the stairs onto the stage. The velvet curtains parts and I'm shoved into the blinding spotlight. I squint at the harsh light but I don't tremble, I can't afford to. Instead, I let my lips curls into a soft, sultry smile--- one that I know will put the crowd at ease. They want weakness, they want fear, I'll give them neither. 

A man in a sleek silver suit steps forward and addresses the crowd. "Ah, gentlemen and ladies, what a beauty we have here." he circles me like a vulture, his soft hands touch along my shoulders before they forcefully hold my chin up for them to see. "Soft skin, perfect features. And best of all, untouched."

Liar! 

My eyes scan the crowd that murmurs approvingly and just like that the auction begins. 

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