Page 44
Story: Auctioned
“Our bloodline is sacred.” Topher pushes his shoulders back. Tilts his palm deeper into the blade. “It will never die.”
Their part of the ceremony is over. I, as does Oliver, push the dagger into my son’s palm. I break the skin a second time. Both of us slice a horizontal line across the inside of their palms.
I toss the dagger to the side so it won’t stain our tuxes, raising my hand to snap my fingers. The girl from behind the curtain rushes to us, bandaging Camden’s bleeding hand first.
Meanwhile, I keep holding on to Topher’s. His blood soaks my palm and drips down to the floor.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Crimson on slate gray stone. A bond is created. A vow made, one I plan to break.
My plan. That’s what matters.
Not a dark-haired girl. Not the images of me punishing her.
Definitely not the depraved desires of bringing her metaphorically and physically to her knees.
This.
The end of these men and thus this legacy, which will happen sometime after the scheduled week off at home alone, is the only thing that matters.
9
OPHELIA
Lights, camera…
Nightmare.
“Esteemed buyers.” Camden stands tall on the stage before me. His bandaged hand is curled around his sacrifice’s arm—gross. Around Baylor’s bicep. “I would like to present to you Baylor Marie Carpenter.”
The poor girl whimpers. It’s not the first time she’s done it during this long, creepy and fucked-up evening. Knowing it won’t be the last, my heart twists painfully for her.
Her body breaks out in shivers as silence ensues. As, I imagine, that bastard is allowing the pristine monsters to appraise her.
We’re not cattle, I want to scream from my place at the back of the stage.
As if sensing it, Topher’s grip on my arm tightens. His bandaged hand repulses me. I hope both men—no, not men, but motherfuckers—will pay for this. Pray that their tattoos and fresh cuts get infected, and they die.
I enjoyed watching the dagger slice through their palms. Was about to run over there, snatch the dagger from James, and pierce it through the men’s hearts. All four of them.
That wasn’t the right time, though.
Even if I managed to kill them somehow, I couldn’t make it out of this place alive. I don’t know the layout. Couldn’t see it on my way in, when I was carried inside hurled over a man’s shoulder with a black, opaque bag over my head.
Then there’s the matter of the guards. James had a few in his place. I guessed there must be more of them here, swarming the auction house. I was right.
Which is why I’m waiting patiently here to be sold off to some fucker. I like my chances better outside, where I can run and hide behind a house or a car. A tree, maybe.
I’ll never look back.
I’ll get help for Baylor once I’m freed. Try, at least. I’ll get out of this damn state, then file an anonymous complaint to the FBI. There must be someone out there who will go against James.
Until then, I let Topher’s slimy fingers stay where they are.
Acid burns the line of my stomach.
This ceremony. These men.
Their part of the ceremony is over. I, as does Oliver, push the dagger into my son’s palm. I break the skin a second time. Both of us slice a horizontal line across the inside of their palms.
I toss the dagger to the side so it won’t stain our tuxes, raising my hand to snap my fingers. The girl from behind the curtain rushes to us, bandaging Camden’s bleeding hand first.
Meanwhile, I keep holding on to Topher’s. His blood soaks my palm and drips down to the floor.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Crimson on slate gray stone. A bond is created. A vow made, one I plan to break.
My plan. That’s what matters.
Not a dark-haired girl. Not the images of me punishing her.
Definitely not the depraved desires of bringing her metaphorically and physically to her knees.
This.
The end of these men and thus this legacy, which will happen sometime after the scheduled week off at home alone, is the only thing that matters.
9
OPHELIA
Lights, camera…
Nightmare.
“Esteemed buyers.” Camden stands tall on the stage before me. His bandaged hand is curled around his sacrifice’s arm—gross. Around Baylor’s bicep. “I would like to present to you Baylor Marie Carpenter.”
The poor girl whimpers. It’s not the first time she’s done it during this long, creepy and fucked-up evening. Knowing it won’t be the last, my heart twists painfully for her.
Her body breaks out in shivers as silence ensues. As, I imagine, that bastard is allowing the pristine monsters to appraise her.
We’re not cattle, I want to scream from my place at the back of the stage.
As if sensing it, Topher’s grip on my arm tightens. His bandaged hand repulses me. I hope both men—no, not men, but motherfuckers—will pay for this. Pray that their tattoos and fresh cuts get infected, and they die.
I enjoyed watching the dagger slice through their palms. Was about to run over there, snatch the dagger from James, and pierce it through the men’s hearts. All four of them.
That wasn’t the right time, though.
Even if I managed to kill them somehow, I couldn’t make it out of this place alive. I don’t know the layout. Couldn’t see it on my way in, when I was carried inside hurled over a man’s shoulder with a black, opaque bag over my head.
Then there’s the matter of the guards. James had a few in his place. I guessed there must be more of them here, swarming the auction house. I was right.
Which is why I’m waiting patiently here to be sold off to some fucker. I like my chances better outside, where I can run and hide behind a house or a car. A tree, maybe.
I’ll never look back.
I’ll get help for Baylor once I’m freed. Try, at least. I’ll get out of this damn state, then file an anonymous complaint to the FBI. There must be someone out there who will go against James.
Until then, I let Topher’s slimy fingers stay where they are.
Acid burns the line of my stomach.
This ceremony. These men.
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