Chains and Shackles

Felicity

Love will be the death of me, I know it. Mother died because of it, so why not me, her descendant? I find it to be my ironic destiny.

"Next!!!" A buff man yells out to the mask-wearing crowd, a desperate attempt to hide the identities of the rich and famous. And perverted for buying us slaves.

"Come on up, number 67!" The man yells.

I look down at the plastic ticket in my shaking hand and unravel it, looking at the ticket with disgust and fear.

And dread. A very very dark dread at the realization at all that had happened to me in such a short amount of time.

The black 67 shines at me, glaring at me against the yellow background, almost as if it were a funny joke being played on me.

That black number, the color of death.

Black, the color of my future.

"NUMBER 67!!!" The man growls, this time, I know there's not much time left.

It's either go up and have a chance at a better life or be killed. Personally, I prefer suicide, but you know, I'll take whatever comes at me.

I move forward, the others turning to give me pitiful looks before parting ways for me, my feet the only weights keeping me back.

"Come on, lass." The man says, gently putting his hand on my shoulder.

His look told me everything.

'What a shame a pretty girl like you had to come here. What a shame that you had to live a life like this.'

What a shame, what a shame.

"Do your wrists hurt?" The man asks, his arm on the curtain, waiting for my answer before I will be revealed.

I look down at my wrists and the rope that binds them together, then at my feet, the iron shackles keeping me on the ground.

"No." I reply emotionlessly, looking straight ahead of me at the darkness that hid all but the masks of the crowd.

The man gives me another look.

"Are you sure?" He asks once more, almost as if he wanted a reason to not push me onto the stage.

'Are the binds too tight?'

"I am fine. It doesn't hurt."

The man opens the curtain, hands the speaker my ticket, and I walk on stage.

"Do your wrists hurt?"

Of course not. Nothing hurts as much as a broken heart.