Shivering, I claw at my arms and legs, desperate to rid myself of the filth that clings to me. It's not the dirt on my skin—it's something deeper, an invisible grime left by their hands. No amount of scrubbing could erase the sickening imprint of their touch. I want to scrub the feeling of their hands, of what they did off of me...but no amount of scrubbing will ever remove the memory permanently stained into every fibre of my being. The marks of their hands are dark stains scattered around my skin, tattoos that I never wanted watching me, taunting me as they wait to fade.

No one else has come since they left. No food or water just darkness in this cold hell. Time drags painfully, each second stretching into an eternity as I count to keep the despair at bay. Every number is an anchor, tethering me to the fragile hope that the next one might bring light, a door creaking open, or a scrap of food. Twenty-five thousand fifty-four... twenty-five thousand fifty-five... one breath in, one breath out... twenty-five thousand fifty-eight. Over and over again I count each number a breath, each number telling me that I am okay, that I am still in one piece.

They can't take what I don't give. And I did not give them anything, not yet, even if they touched me, raped me they have not won they have nothing.

Footsteps ones that have not walked this hall in 25172 seconds. The lock clicks not on the flap but on the door. 2 seconds later light floods the room. Shutting my eyes I wait blinking back tears as my eyes adjust. "Ahh, what's that disgusting smell? Huh, little girl you look dread full, bored with us gone?" The older man asks chuckling.

Squinting against the blinding light, I glare at him, defiance rising despite the ache in my body. "Looks like someone forgot to take out the trash," I spit, my voice sharp even as my strength wanes.

My mind is in a drugged fog, the man moves like lightning grabbing my hair and pulling me off the ground. "Move that mouth again and we will stuff it, " I go green at his implication. He smirks dropping me roughly to the floor as I remain silent.

"Come on little girl I feel like getting paid today, " he calls walking out the door. "Grab her boys the men must be getting anxious." Two men seize me by the arms, hauling me up as though I weigh nothing. My body dangles limply between them, too weak to resist, as they drag me through the metal door—the same door I had once believed led to freedom but now know better. How long ago was it hours, a day, a week? Judging by my body possibly a few days. My counting only lasted till I went to sleep then I had to start all over again. But the hunger gnawing at my stomach is not much worse than when I did a 30-hour famine in middle school.

Up the stairs of the door, I tried to escape from, they drag me. My already cut legs getting new ones against the concrete steps.

How are they going to sell me off? Are they going to bathe me and dress me up like a nice little doll? Are they going to throw me on a podium for all the disgusting men to ogle and bid for? Is each person who wants me going to get a free test drive to know if they like the product?

The thought alone fuels my anger twisting my stomach. Pigs all of them using innocent people for their own gain. Though my body hangs limp, rage simmers just beneath the surface. My jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as the fire inside me builds—a burning refusal to let them think they've broken me. Fighting would be futile in my weakened state. My body craves proper food and rest, even then I am no match for healthy men. Let alone four men against one beaten woman, the odds of my escape are slim to none.

My skin prickles as the men slow in front of a door 475 steps from my cell. Still, no windows aglow with fresh light instead I bask in the warmth of good LED lights. A shocking difference from the cold cells a floor below. The slimy old man strides ahead, shoving the wooden door open with a flourish. My bare feet sink into the plush carpet—a stark, jarring contrast to the cold concrete of the cell below. The brief warmth almost feels like an insult. 

Tilting my head up I squint at the sight. The room is small not much bigger than the cell I was being held in. A red carpet lays covering most of the floor beaten by the weight of people walking across it. The room is bright with lights shining in a photo shoot set up in the middle. A metal table rests in the middle of the room all the lights angled in its direction.

Computer monitors line the wall on the other side of the lights fans blasting to cool the circuits. One solo camera is angled at the metal table.

I gulp at the sight of men leering at me as they scatter around the room adjusting lights and computers. I get hauled over to the table draped across the hard surface warmed from the harsh lights. The goosebumps across my skin dissipate from the warmth momentarily.

I tilt my head squinting my eyes at the men beside me. Cold leather snaps across my ankles and waist. Shooting up I swing my arms at the men beside me foolishly. My weak attempt at fighting back quickly halts as hands grab my shoulders and arms forcing me back down. Two more leather straps wrap around my wrists tightly securing me to the table.

"Now now just relax girl this will be over soon." The old man whispers stepping in front of the lights. "We aren't going to do anything to you just take some quick pictures that's all." He brushes his knuckles across my cheek. I flinch away turning my head out of his reach.

Hands straighten my clothes before footsteps walk away. The sharp snap of a camera shatters the oppressive silence, marking the beginning of their vile charade. I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to meet the barrage of harsh lights aimed at me, as though doing so might shield me from the humiliation. Minutes pass with the click of the camera before fingers begin to type on a keyboard.

"And it's up. The bidding has started, " a voice says.

"Good good what are we starting at?" The old man asks.

"So far $500 and rising sir."

"Good, keep the bidding up for thirty minutes I want this one to go by fast." I can hear the smirk in his voice and feel the money in his eyes as he probably watches the screen.

A millennium passes as I lay on the table soaking up the little warmth the lights provided. Gasps ripple through the room, breaking the monotony and sending a jolt through my senses. "It can't be... he hasn't logged on in months," someone whispers, their voice laced with disbelief.

"It's his name you dim wit so I think it's him." Another says.

"Well yeah, but why?"

"I don't know and I don't care those people always pay well so if they buy it doesn't matter." A thwack echoes around the room before a quick grumble comes from the one hit.

"Come on...come on...YES. Little girl you just got us a big one." The old man says. Footsteps move my way blocking out the light at my sides. Metal clicks as the leather fall free of my ankles and wrists. Once all the straps keeping me to the table fall to the ground hands hoist me up.

My head swims at the sudden rush of blood my body limp. The concrete meets my feet again as we leave the photo room.

I raise my head when they take a left turn instead of a right. Where are they taking me now? Shouldn't I return to my cell until the person who bought me gets here? More stairs come into view as we follow the old man. Up and up we go floor by floor like clockwork. 20...30...100...150.

The air grows crisper the farther we go up into the building the musk and dust staying locked in the basement below. One door after another down hall after hall. Voices begin to get louder till one final door is opened and an overwhelming amount of voices flood into my ears. My head rings as I get dragged across a lush red carpet. I spot some people men and women alike talking, drinking, some doing other things. Must be a casino of some sort. None turn their heads as we pass used to the sight.

A brush of wind shakes my hair as we walk through black curtains to a back room. The cold chill is a familiar feeling this time of year. "Hey man this the one he bought?" the new voice whistles. I don't flinch not even a muscle when the newcomer's eyes trace my body. The two men talk for a few minutes smoking beside two sets of rolling doors.

The cold air is more condensed here seeping into the floor leaving it permanently chilled. The metal wheels groan in protest as they slide open, the sound grating against my ears. A sharp gust of cold wind whips through the space, and I shiver, my muscles tensing as the chill bites into my skin. Clouds cover the night sky making it a pitch-black abyss.

Crunching myself up I attempt to hold in the little warmth I have. My feet leave the ground as the men carry me taking all my weight. A black car shines under the single light on the outside of the building. Trees whisper in the wind the leaves scattering from their branches.

The men hoist me up before tossing me into the back of the car. The warmth of the leather and shield from the wind is a pleasant release. My small bubble of peace shatters as the old man leans on the open door. "Well little girl our fun has ended, be good to your new master I hear he is quite the pleasant young man. Bye-bye now."

Before I can react his hand grasps my ankle and a small pinch shoots up my leg. I glance toward him, pouring every ounce of venom and hatred I can muster into my gaze. But it's futile—my body betrays me as the darkness rises, pulling me under once again.

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