Chapter 5: My new life

The hospital stank of antiseptic and silence. I woke up to the sound of someone’s shoes clicking down the hallway, fading again, as if the world itself had already forgotten me. My throat burned, my body felt emptied and hollowed. My hands went instinctively to my belly flat and aching. 

Nothing.

The doctor didn’t even look at me when he walked in, just scribbled something on a chart.

“You’re stable. You can leave.”

Leave?  As if I had anywhere to go. As if I hadn’t been stripped of everything in one night..my father, my home, my fiancé, my child.

I pushed myself up, legs trembling. The thin hospital gown clung to my skin. There was no one waiting for me, no one to take me home, Home. The word felt cruel, because I had none.

By the time I stumbled out into the night air, the street was empty except for the black car parked at the curb. Its engine purred low, like a predator waiting.

“Althea.” The voice was mocking, smooth. Seraphina’s man. I recognized him instantly. The smirk on his face made my stomach twist.

“Come with us.”

“No.” My voice was hoarse, but I forced it out. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He stepped closer. “You don’t have a choice.”

Another man opened the back door of the car. I spun, tried to run, but my legs betrayed me. It was weak and unsteady. A hand clamped down on my arm, nails digging into flesh.

“You really thought you could accuse them… take them on?” he hissed in my ear. “Now look at you. No father, no fiancé, no baby. What are you worth now?”

I fought, clawed, screamed, but my voice was swallowed by the city’s noise. They shoved me into the back seat, the door slamming like a coffin lid.

The drive was long, dark, endless. I pressed my forehead to the cold glass, watching the lights blur past. I asked once, where they were taking me. No one answered, Only laughter, sharp and cruel, from the front seat.

When the car finally stopped, they dragged me out into a place I didn’t recognize. Marble floors, golden lights, the heavy scent of perfume and smoke. Women in silk whispered by, their faces painted like dolls.

I froze when I heard it, an echoing voice carrying over a microphone.

“Lot 17, prepare her.”

Hands tore at me, stripping the hospital gown away, forcing me into a dress I didn’t choose, thin silk clinging to my body, meant for eyes that weren’t mine. My protests meant nothing. My fear was ignored. I wasn’t a person anymore.

The doors hung ahead, massive and glowing with light spilling through their cracks. The voices on the other side grew louder. Cheers. Laughter and of course, Money.

And then it hit me where I was. What they had done.

I wasn’t being taken home. I wasn’t even being discarded.

I was being sold.