Contracted

prologue

Emi POV:

I felt my side, the blood rushing down my shirt. The bastard kicked me. He kicked me over and over in the same spot. He most likely broke my rib. Why didn't I care? Is it because I couldn't? With every breath I took I felt the sharp stabbing pain rush through my body. I tried to stop the tears from falling down my face, but it was no use. As this person beat me all I could think about was, "What's next?"

My head was spinning and my vision was blurred. I stood up as fast as I could, the sharp pain in my side making me wheeze instead of taking  breaths. No one was going to help me. Not looking like this. No one will want to look twice at me. Especially here.

The man who kicked me dragged me down a long hall with my hands tied behind my back. He threw me into a room with more women in it and a rack of clothes. There was a small table with hair brushes and some powdery makeup. The man that had kicked me untied my rope.

"Look here! You change, you freshen up, and you wait for us to call you in line! Do I make myself clear?" He demanded.

I shook my head as a 'yes' choked out of my mouth. The fear in me was overwhelming. The pain in my side and head made it almost unbearable for me to stand. I stumbled over to the rack of clothes falling onto it. I grabbed a black dress and pumps. Everything here did not fit my fancy. I didn't put on the stupid makeup. I waited for a while as other ladies of many ages were pushing past me. Finally the man walked back in calling my name for me to go back with him.

I did what I was told. I didn't want to get hurt anymore and I was scared for my life. What was he going to do? The man dragged me to an empty room with nothing, but two chairs.

"You dressed appropriately." He said sternly. I nodded my head silently. "Age." He blurted out.

"19" I spoke softly.

"Name?"

"Emi."

"Last name?"

"Collins."

"Hmm." The man hummed. "Height and weight?"

"5'3...94"

"Light much?" He mocked. "Virginity?"

Why the hell would he need that? "Virgin." I tried to keep my voice steady.

"What are you good at? I mean chores wise? Cleaning, cooking, working outside, you know etc."

"I can cook, not fond of cleaning, but can do it, working in fields I don't know the first thing about. I best work as a personal." He was talking about my talents as a slave.

Again I was caught by the slave traders. This will be my third auction. This one was different though. Everyone was rough and brutal and they didn't  care about us obviously.

The man put his small notepad away and snatched me up again. He dragged me to a line of other women dressed in similar attire. Our whole line of ten, maybe fifteen, was dragged onto the stage.

I could feel everyone's eyes on the merchandise. All of us bowed and on the other side of the big stage stood the same amount of boys dressed in black dress pants wkth no shirt. We left the stage standing next to it as they called out our names one by one. Every time someone else went up all of there information was told.

I had finally escaped the hell hole of being a slave and I'm back here again. What a bust right?