Broken to be Sold

Interview

Two hours until my interview. I nervously put on the outfit I had picked the night before and studied myself in the mirror. The pink off the shoulder shirt looked wrinkled and the jean skirt had a little tear in the seam on the side that you couldn't see when my arms were down; my sandals had a loose strap that sometimes fell off, but it was the best I could do with what I had. I went to my bathroom and brushed my wavy hair out and fluffed it a little. Since our lack of money, I couldn't afford a curling iron or any other sort of hair product. I applied the little bit of mascara I had and finished up my look with a little chapstick. Good enough I thought when I looked in the mirror.
I bounced down the stairs landing with a thump at the bottom. I twisted my head to see the microwave clock. It was five o'clock. I swiped my keys off the countertop and went to yell for Caden only to realize he was probably at his Saturday job. I'm assuming my parents left early for their jobs too although I don't remember hearing them come home last night.
I left the house, locking up the doors behind me, and made my way to my beat up Ford Explorer. Sometimes, the car wouldn't start, and I would have to attempt to start it a couple hundred times before I got any kind of response. As soon as I turned the corner to our driveway, I smacked a hand to my forehead and let out an annoyed groan. My brother must have taken the car today, without telling me, I might add.
Luckily, the bus stop was only a few minutes away from my house so I walked in the Texas heat all the way down the street. As I sat on the bench provided with my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands, I felt sweat beading at my hairline, slowly trailing down the curve of my cheek. The bus arrived a few minutes later and I climbed the first few steps and paid the fee so the bus driver would let me pass through to get to the seats. I grabbed a map from the seat pocket and scanned it before my eyes landed on Timberland Road. The bus didn't make a direct stop in front of the street but it was only a couple roads away from Taylor Court, which was the closest scheduled bus stop.
As soon as it stopped at Taylor Court, I jumped off the bus and turned down the concrete path. Little shops lined the walkways with dozens of people milling around the boutiques. I walked farther down and soon, there's not a person in sight. Rundown homes slowly became more apparent until I finally arrived in front of the given address. The light blue paint is peeling away from the wooden sidings and ivy is climbing its way up the walls and curling around the window frame. The wooden door had chips lining up and down the oak and the brass door knob was tarnished. I frowned, looking down at the address I had written on my hand.
This couldn't be right. There was no way a Charlotte Russe interview could take place here. There was no branding and the least the company could do was fix it up a little. This wasn't right. I spun around on heel and as soon as my foot hit the road, I heard the door open.
"Hello?" a sickly sweet voice called. I whipped my head back around and saw a tall, lanky man standing at the threshold of the door. He had his arm up waving quickly, almost frantically, trying to get my attention. His blond hair looked a little greasy and his skin had a weird pale yellow hue to it. His eyes were a blue color, which is something I've always wanted instead of my boring brown, but they seemed dead and void of light. "Are you Ms. Weylyn?" Not sure if I should confirm my name or not, I slowly backed toward the road while shaking my head. "Are you sure?" he looked confused, but there was something in his eyes that looked off.
"Yeah, um, I think I'm just lost. Sorry to bother you!" I laughed nervously, trying to make it look not too obvious that I was trying to escape as fast as possible.
"Don't be silly! Come on in and I'll help you figure out where you need to go." he waved his hand wildly in the air, as if he were swatting at pesky flies.
"No, it's okay. I think I figured it out." I say, backing away a faster.
"No, I insist," he says. His face drops and he's no longer the friendly man he'd started out as. His eyes are no longer dead but they're cold and calculating. I turned to run, only to slam into a hard chest. Arms surrounded me and I felt fear crawl up my chest and begin to choke me. I struggled, clawing at his hands and twisting my body trying to relent his hold on me, but he wouldn't. The more I struggle the tighter his arms seemed to get until I could no longer move. I let out a scream, but it was cut short by the man holding me captive by slapping his hand hard across my mouth. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, "Don't worry, doll," the blond man said with a smile, "This'll be over before you know it." Before I could process his words, his fist came flying at my face and then everything was dark.

I woke with a pounding headache. I heard voices muttering in the background but I couldn't pick out what either of them were saying. I tried to move my arms or open my eyes but it felt like I was encased in rock. I focused more on the voices instead of trying to move, "We could sell... For a lot of money..."
"Yeah, we just have to... in first... we don't want any accidents."
"You can handle that... know the... about training."
I shook my head. The words kept varying in volume, I couldn't catch the whole thing. "Well, look who's up," I heard footsteps making their way towards me and felt a rough hand grab me from my position and shake me hard. I moaned and peeled open my eyes and saw two hazel ones staring right back at me. "Took you long enough." he dropped me, letting my limp body fall to the floor with a thud. My head hit the ground so hard that it bounced off the ground until it settled in something warm and sticky. Trying to fight back the nauseous feeling building in my stomach, I pushed my weak arms against the ground and lifted myself into a sitting position. The floors were made completely of dirt with a ragged cot in the corner with a striped blanket spotted with holes and a flat pillow with a large yellow stain covering half of it. There was two pots that sat on the other side of the room along with a metal tub that could easily fit a large dog. I scanned the room for anything else but other than a metal door, it was completely bare. I looked over to the two people I had heard talking. One was the man that had shaken me harshly, he had a large build with dark hair and dressed in low hanging jeans with a rumpled dark red sweatshirt pulled loosely over his frame. The person he was talking to was a woman with auburn hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She wore skinny jeans and had a long scar running the length of her cheek bone. It looked old, but it was hard to tell in the sparse lighting. I lifted a heavy hand and pressed it to the throbbing part of my head; when I pulled it away, it was sticky and red with what I assumed to be blood. My vision slowly began twisting in and out until I could no longer make out what I was looking at. I felt my body grow heavy again and I collapsed into the pool of my blood once again.