Withering Ivy: Chapter One (Patreon)

I wasn't supposed to be there that day. In fact, my parents almost begged me to accompany them on their anniversary vacation. "I'm too old for that," I remembered saying. What a fool I had been if only I had gone. If I only had put away my immaturity for a moment and didn't think about the extra money I could get from staying after I graduated and helping my old teachers. If only I had stayed in bed or simply didn't go into that cafeteria.

I wasn't supposed to be there.

I wasn't even supposed to be in my old high school, I had graduated the year prior and the rest of my old classmates had moved into college. I decided to be different and wait. Spend some time getting some experience as a teacher's assistant before I made a career out of it. How could I have been so dense? why couldn't I have used my free time to relax or go on a vacation to the Bahamas with my parents.

I even could have avoided the trouble if I wasn't so curious. A stack of papers in my arms kept me moving forward as I made my way down the long hallway to the cafeteria. The silence should have been warning enough but I simply kept moving. Leaving my safe lonely desk to pass some papers to the principal who lay on the ground with weapons pointed at him. I don't know what exactly happened in which order, It wasn't a wild school shooter that America is so known for. It wasn't any drill the kids or I had ever prepared for.

It was a man in a suit, running his sweaty hands around his polka-dotted blue handkerchief as people in full armor and loaded guns picked up girls by their sleeves around them over to the man. He simply looked them up and down and shooed them away. Kids were crying, teachers were shaking, and there I was in the doorway dumbfounded by a scene I couldn't distinguish between fiction and reality.

I probably had time to turn away and run, in fact, the principal was trying to get me to by shifting his eyes to the front but I'm ashamed to say I was paralyzed. I always imagined myself as a hero in my daydreams but in real life, I fell flat. Like the papers that sunk to the ground near my feet as the put-together man looked over at me and froze, his handkerchief tightened by his grip and my heart fell to a level I never thought feasible. I felt gloved hands near me and I was brought over to be examined.

His tan was fake and so were his teeth, he reeked of expensive cologne and money even though he didn't know what to do with it. His French accent even sounded expensive as he spun me. "She is perfect, yes?" The man who held onto me nodded but didn't let his tight form loosen. "Curvy in all the right places, freckles, no spots, breasts are adequate." He smacked on some mint gum while pulling my shirt down to get a more accurate reading of my waist size. "Wider than the rest of the girls." His smile sickened me. I could barely look at him as he took another glance around the cafeteria.

He spoke in French, words I couldn't understand but I knew he was saying no to all the other girls. He finally switched back for only a moment as he took out his golden pocket watch. "Police will be here soon, she should give us a large enough payout. The rest aren't worth the headache."

In an instant, a shot was put in my arm, and my vision blurred as I was carried out of the silent area full of silenced minds. They watched me being taken away as the men with guns backed up slowly to give themselves a chance to leave. I wish I remembered what happened after that. I remember a motorcycle, a helmet being squished onto my head. But after that, it was a blur. For god knows how long I was put to sleep again and again. Through each round of transportation, I was strapped up and mailed to the next destination like an animal. Like a pet.

When I awoke I was strapped to a chair, not in a basement or in someone's secret cellar, but a barbershop chair. With people surrounding me with products and lights. "She's up." A woman had said, her breath dealing with coffee and cigarettes. "You're lucky you slept so long." She put a layer of blush on my cheeks and I tried lifting my neck to see who was near my feet. A man with highlighted hair and nail polish coating my toes. It felt like I was being readied for a runway show.

"Where am I?" I croaked out. I sounded horrible, like a chain smoker who had been on oxygen for years. "I need to go-" with all the effort I had left in my body I tried to leave the straps that kept me tied down but they never budged, the woman didn't seem surprised either as she put some flood on her finger and smoothed it on my lips.

"Listen, kid, this is real life ok? You aren't getting away, you aren't going home. You see what's through that doorway over there?" She pointed and I could barely look but I saw the cages. "That's where you were and you could be going somewhere a lot better if you behave. I understand you will want to fight but there's no point. Come with me."

Just like that, I was free, the straps falling to my side allowing me to get up and wobble my way into a standing position. Where were my clothes?

"Your cute and shy." The woman pushed clothes through the rack trying to find the perfect outfit. "If I could give you any advice it would be to be submissive. These rich people don't like being told no." She held out a green dress. "Put this on."

I did as I was told and wondered why, she was right it seemed useless to fight but I did wonder if I would have been in this situation had I done so in the beginning. I tried holding back tears as I zipped up what I could. The lady saw and helped the remainder. "It's tough I know but your alright. Here's your paperwork. Give it to Joaquin when he comes to get you."
She handed a binder over and looked as if for a moment she was going to give some comfort but she didn't she simply went the other way.

Left alone with my file in my hand I looked around the curtains to see another girl in the chair I was once in, she was getting pampered and done up like a doll but the only other way out was through the room with the cages, I couldn't bring myself to go through there.

"My money maker!" So his name was Joaquin. The fake-looking man with orange skin and salt and peppered hair. "I am so excited for you my dear." Taking the file from my hands I suddenly wondered what it said, but it was too late as he took me by the back of my neck and started leading me out. "'Make this easy for me bella, no attitude and act cute." He smiled at a few guards who stood at the doorway we stopped at. "If you try anything I'll strangle you right here."

That was the last thing he said directly to me before I was led out into the light. It was so bright. I had to squint my eyes and look down to even see where I walked. As they adjusted Joaquin had found a microphone. He spoke French, Spanish, Russian, Chinese, and then English. "An American doll, Hispanic and Caucasian heritage, 5'4, with wavy brown hair and brown eyes." He was describing me down to the size of my shoes, I was humiliated, embarrassed, and appalled. When my sight came back to me and I was able to look around any red that had flushed my face surely had faded because all around me I saw tinted windows like a miniature arena. Behind each window Joaquin pretended to talk to someone, there had to be people behind the glass.

"She has quite the figure don't you Bella?" He spun me and I obeyed. Like some sort of sick joke, I listened and he ate it up. He explained my quietness and then my submissive nature. How did I get myself into this mess? I was being auctioned and I didn't even know to who or to where. "Would you like to share something with our guest?" He handed the microphone down to me but I couldn't even take it I just stared at it and let my mouth hang. "See that shyness play? She's perfect arm Candy is she not? A verified virgin by our techs and willing to keep up with whatever drooling schedule you have." The lights felt like they were burning into my skin.

"Let us start the bidding at 1.2." Joaquin smiled seeing the glass light up with multiple shapes. Some even doubled his starting price. I couldn't even follow along with him as I looked around like a dumb stroke child. My eyes highlighted each green light that rang back for me. Should I have been flattered? I couldn't find the positivity in it.

Soon the flashing was slowing, behind one glass where the green-lit I could see a sunken big man, his crooked glasses staring at me as he upped his price once more. I hoped another light would go off, anyone else I prayed please just anyone.

I stopped seeing the frame of a woman, that's all I could make out behind the dimming of her money light fading. If I was to be sold it had to be to anyone but him.

"Going once for number 1207" Joaquin's eyes seemed to be morphing into dollar signs. "Going twice!"

No one else was bidding. His price had already been raised so much. I couldn't. I grabbed the microphone from his hands. "I'm a lesbian." There were some chuckles I know, but the figure of the woman leaned forward. Joaquin snatched his mic back and straightened his cuffs, he already couldn't wait to get rid of me.

"1207 for 4.25 going once."

Her light came on.

He seemed more shocked than I as he turned, "43 for 1923 going once, going twice..."

When he said sold I felt a sigh of relief. But then I remember where I was. I didn't win a raffle at the county fair. I was just sold.

And I wasn't even supposed to be in school that day.