ᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴀꜰᴀᴇʟ: ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ ✓

⭒47⭒

Many of us spend our whole lives running from feelings with the mistaken belief that you cannot bear the pain.

But you have already born the pain. What you have not done is feel all you are beyond that pain.
{Khalil Gibran}
______

Unease suffused my body. Was I dead? Or in heaven? Opening my eyes was a hard task to do, but even harder was being able to raise the weight of my head. It was too hard.

Every little task seemed difficult.

How long was I here for. It must have been more than five days now, seeing as I'd been drugged again and woke up somewhere unfamiliar. Now that I think about it, the temperature wasn't so cold anymore, which was a telltale sign that I was no longer in that small dungeon.

My heartbeat skyrocketed upon the realisation that I wasn't alone. As my senses slowly returned back to me, a murmur of voices resonated around.

I looked down at myself, only to regret it. My hands were tied to a wooden chair this time, but that was the least of my concerns. I was adorned in a skin fitting dress, which left little to the imagination. It was made of expensive looking beads and started from my neck all the way down to my ankles. I felt as if I'd been hurried alive. Never had I worn such tight clothes before only adding to my claustrophobic state.

And my hair?!

Was my hair also uncovered? Ya Allah. It was! My hair was displayed openly, bringing more humiliation onto my shoulders. Tears escaped from my eyes, no longer hiding behind the shield of hardness.

My eyes wondered ahead in alarm, only to stare back into nothingness. Where was I!

"Anastasia Borisyuk sold for twenty-five thousand US dollars" came the deep voice of a cruel man. With a tremor in my movements, I looked to the right of me, and everything made sense.

This girl was being sold! She was literally being sold right infront of my eyes. I took in her melancholic state with remorseful eyes, as a light descended down upon her. Her head was held down throughout the entire process of being dragged, to exiting the stage and disappearing behind a door.

She did not respond, and neither did she cry. Her eyes were nothing short of gloomy. It was like she accepted her fate, or perhaps she did not know what else to do but silently hope and pray.

Before she was dragged off the stage, her gaze lingered on me, portraying some sort of message. I sat there immobilised, feeling as if she was digging through my mind, looking for anything to help her then.

Why are you looking at me like that? I am of no help to you.

A slow headache was erupting, leaving a throbbing sensation in it's wake. I shut my eyes in vain, hoping I disappeared from here or that the ground could swallow me up, and regurgitate me next to my parents.

A lone tear escaped my eye upon the realisation that I'd never be able to see them ever again. Are they worried? Are they aware that their daughter is missing? So many unanswered questions!

The moment that I'd been dreading had arrived. The light shined upon my frame, causing me to cringe away. Despite the bright light, I still couldn't see ahead of me. It was too dark to distinguish what was there. Or rather, who was there.

"This is Laila Bakhash, a twenty year old Pakistani beauty. Starting at five thousand dollars!"

My eyes widened and sweat began dribbling down my forehead. Surely this was a big nightmare and that I'd wake up to the sound of birds. No matter how much I tried to move, or voice my opinion, nothing happened.