Auctioned

Liam

I’m two beers in, and I can’t help myself.
I've read her files over and over.  My poor Allison.  Kidnapped while walking home from school.  It was a nice neighborhood, low crime.  No reason to worry.  But one day she just vanished. Some guy kidnapped her and three other women that day.  He was well known in the sex slave traffic industry, and is currently incarcerated and on death row.  Which only makes me angrier that I can’t get my hands on him myself.

      Allison is only one of hundreds of women who he kidnapped over a decade.

      She was a virgin, and traded to a drug lord and head of a cartel.  He went by Master R, and had many slaves and shared them freely.  From what I can tell, she was no exception and her police reports go into detail about what a man named Savar second-in-command of the cartel did to her.  Her life was hell.  She was surrounded by abusive men who took pleasure from her pain.  Her leg and jaw were both broken while she was held prisoner.

      Her leg more than once.

      In her psych transcripts I read about how she murdered him.  How she broke a liquor bottle and stabbed him repeatedly, running away in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a large man’s dress shirt.  She was filthy when they found her in a village on the outskirts of the tourist areas.  She was bruised and scarred, and almost died of malnutrition and infections.

      A group of tourists just happened to be in the area.  Without them, I’m not certain what would have happened to her.  My heart clenches in my chest, and I take another swig of the whiskey.
      She saved herself.

      It’s been four years since she’s been home.  She spent a good amount of time in protective custody, adjusting to life again.  She was in and out of therapy for the first few months until she started seeing a young woman named Meredith Beck.  She stayed with her for two years, attending regular sessions that eventually dwindled.  She hasn’t been to her in over eight months and the last time she went, Dr prescribed her sleeping aids, a prescription that she never filled.

      I’ve hacked into the support group that I know she is an active member in.  Extremely active.  She comes on daily, and is one of only a handful of users in here.  This seems to be the only social interaction she has.

      At first it was just to find out more about how she's healing.  Just to read her messages and figure out if she still has problems sleeping.  I’ve learned a lot about my Allison since logging in.  She’s a kind girl with a beautiful heart.  She wants to be happy.

      I take another sip of whiskey, ignoring the papers on the desk detailing her dark past, and focus on how she is now, in the present.  How much better she is.  How healthy and happy she is.  Although there’s still pain.  Still a void in her life… for now.
      I’ve created my own account and made a false identity.  I didn’t provide any major details, but most of the profiles here are lacking.
      I know it’s wrong, but I want to get to know her.
      Madame would be pissed if she found out, but I’m curious.  I have to know more about her.  Allison.  Her information was easily accessible, and I’ve been through all of it.  All her background, multiple times.
      Curious doesn’t even begin to describe it.  I know what she’s been through, what she’s survived.  Even more, I know what she’s looking for.  I know what she needs.  At first, when I read her transcripts from the protective unit, I was horrified.  She endured abuse in every possible way for years, along with malnutrition, and constant violence.  The poor girl has survived too much.
      She’s strong.  She’s fierce.  But she’s in need.

      And I desperately want to fulfill that void for her.

      I already know my ways are twisted, so something like this is just a drop in the bucket.