“And now on the block we have a small blonde from Canaan.”
A large man shoved Alyssa up the steps before her. She stumbled up the few steps, righting herself once she reached the small platform by throwing her tied up hands in front of her.
“We will start the bidding at five credits. Do I hear five credits?”
Alyssa’s heart beat loudly, overpowering the voice of the auctioneer. Her body trembled as she stood, naked, in front of the people who were bidding on her.
Please let me go somewhere where I’ll be safe and treated well. Please don’t send me to my death. Alyssa thought as the bids grew in size.
“I have eight credits from number twenty-nine. I have eight credits, who will give me nine? I have eight credits, do I hear nine?”
Alyssa’s thoughts strayed to the stories she heard from the other people in her compartment. Stories about what different households did to the girls they bought. Stories about rape and abuse. Stories about suicide and murder. And all Alyssa could do was hope that she was one of the lucky ones. That she would be one of the ones who survive.
“Sold to number forty-two for twenty-one credits. Our biggest sale today. If you will go over to the counter to pay, you can pick up your slave.”
A.P.'s Quill 