The air in the room felt heavy, thick with the scent of Leonardo’s expensive cologne and the faint, lingering smell of the rain from outside. I looked at the floor, the patterns of the dark wood blurring through the tears I refused to let fall.
My spirit felt like a lead weight in my chest. I thought of my parents one last time, picturing their faces as they counted the money they had traded me for. With that thought, the last spark of resistance in me died. There was no rescue coming. There was no home to go back to.
I reached for the zipper of my dress, my movements mechanical and slow. I was no longer Lucia; I was just an object, a piece of collateral in a game I didn't understand. The fabric fell away, hitting the floor with a soft rustle, leaving me standing completely exposed in
