Episode7
1011 Words
ALESSIA.
I have no idea how long I was out.
But slowly, the thick, drug-induced blackness began to recede. My body felt heavy, sluggish, as if I were moving through deep water. A moan slipped out of my lips as my fingers jerked against a smooth, unfamiliar surface.
A voice sliced through the fog in my brain.
“She’s coming to,” someone muttered, irritated. “Pull her back under.”
A sharp prick jabbed my arm.
I barely had time to register the sting before the darkness swallowed me whole again.
---
A faint awareness crept over me.
Hands on my body.
Being moved, primped and dressed.
The sensation of soft fabric and foreign textures brushing against my skin.
Then nothing.
---
The next time my eyes fluttered open, the fog was weaker, the drug's hold loosening its grip on me.
Memories came rushing back, hitting me all at once.
Salvatore. The strangers. The syringe.
The auction. No. Panic clutched my chest as I woke completely, my body jerking into a sitting position. My breath was shallow and rapid as the truth hit. I had done everything Salvatore had ever instructed me to do for years. Trained. Fought. Proved myself. All so that I would be a part of the Moretti family. So that I would not be seen as weak.
And he had thrown me to the wolves with no regard. I had no money. No contacts strong enough to help me. No weapons. I was screwed.
A voice broke through my frantic thoughts.
“Oh good, you’re awake.”
I snapped my head toward the speaker, a woman, sharp-faced and bored-looking. “Get up,” she ordered.
I hesitated before dragging myself to my feet. My legs were shaky, my body still affected by the drugs.
That was when I finally looked down at myself. My stomach roiled.
I was wearing the shortest dress I had ever worn, black, silky, and tight, hugging my body like a second skin. Thin straps wrapped around my shoulders, not quite covering me. And on my feet were strappy heels that made me even more unstable. I looked like a goddamn hooker.
My fingers wrapped around the cloth. "What the f**k is this?" I growled.
The woman barely glanced at me as she pulled on my arm. "Hurry up. It's starting."
She pulled me forward before I could try to free myself, dragging me out of the small, grimy room and down a narrow corridor.
I stumbled after her, my mind reeling, barely noticing where I was. This was like a fever dream.
She led me into a room full of other girls and women, all of whom were dressed like me. Some of them looked resigned, some were terrified. Some were quietly crying. The woman let go of me and waved a hand, sending me away. "Wait your turn."
And then she was gone, and I stood there in shock.
I turned to the girl next to me, a stringy brunette biting her nails down. "Where are we?" I rasped. "What's going on?"
She gave me a side glance, raising an unimpressed brow. "We're at the auction."
The word reaffirmed my thoughts. I swallowed hard. "Auction for what?"
The girl snorted. "For us, of course." She rolled her eyes and moved away, muttering, "The new ones are always so slow."
I stood there, my breath caught in my throat. My fingers found a small tag attached to my dress.
I turned it over and read it.
Alessia, No. 17.
I was going to be auctioned off to some stranger.
Fuck.
---
A man climbed up onto a stage in the front of the room. Wearing a clean suit, he held onto a microphone and smiled at the crowd of people.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice smooth and heavy with insincere charm. "Welcome to tonight's special event. We have a great selection of merchandise for you, personally chosen and of high quality."
The audience chuckled at his vile joke.
Bile roiled in my gut.
"There's no time for a lot of talk," the man continued, "so let's just get straight to it, okay?"
He picked up a card. "Maria. No. 1. First."
A blonde girl, Maria, was pushed onto the stage, her eyes wide with fear.
The auction began at once. Voices began calling out figures, one at a time, higher and higher.
"Three thousand!"
"Four thousand!"
"Five thousand!"
The man on the stage slapped his hands together. "And sold! To Mr. Carmen for five thousand dollars!"
Maria was escorted offstage, her face blank.
I felt sick to my stomach.
The girls, one by one, were called up. The girls, one by one, were sold.
And then, "Next is Alessia, No. 17."
I sat numbly. A heavy hand descended on my shoulder. A guard looked down at me. "Move." I didnt, and he pushed me forward. My legs moved numbly forward.
The curtain opened, and I walked on stage.
Blinding lights hit me. The audience was a sea of shadowed faces, the faces obscured.
I stared straight ahead, my mind blank. The auction begun right away.
"Ten thousand!"
"Twelve!"
"Fifteen!"
The figure grew.
"Twenty-five!"
"Thirty!"
Two voices were battling against each other now.
"Thirty-five thousand!"
And then, "Fifty thousand."
Complete silence.
The announcer laughed in disbelief. “Well, well. Alessia, No. 17, sold for fifty thousand dollars to… Mr. Silas Dravetti!”
The name jolted me out of my daze.
My breath hitched. Wait, what?
The lights shifted, pointing toward the winner’s seat.
And then my eyes locked onto his.
Silas Dravetti.
He sat in the audience, his arm thrown over the top of his chair. His cold gray eyes surveyed me with dangerous amusement, his face unremarkable and dark.
A cruel, slow grin spread over his mouth. A silent threat.A promise.
Ice slithered through my stomach, and the weight of my situation crashed down upon me.
I had just been bought. By him. The man I had stolen from. The man I had almost killed.
Yeah.
I was screwed.
- Writer
