AMELIA POV
The screeching door creaks shut behind me. With a flip of a switch, the industrial lights overhead flicker to life. The one in the far-right corner continues to sputter on and off.
The old, beige carpeted floors cushion my boots as I walk toward the living room. Not looking very impressive either, my old gauntly orange couch sits awkwardly in front of a coffee table. A beaten punching bag swings faintly from where it hangs between the living room and kitchen in the open space.
The place was quite tragic really. Smelling faintly of sweat and metal. The wallpaper falling apart at the seams.
But it was mine.
My own slice of freedom. I didn't care what it looked like. I had acquired it with my own money and knowledge when I was 19, and Eugene would never taint it.
He would never even know about it.
Satisfied with my perusal, I lower myself down onto the stained and ripped sofa, shifting slightly to avoid a spring up the ass. Finally, I pull the files from the folder and begins to read.
ELIZABETH WATKINS
AGE: 19
HEIGHT: 5'4
APPEARANCE: white skin, brown hair, blue eyes
WEIGHT: 64kg
ADDRESS: Leopard Lane, Logan **** DOB: 27/10/2000
A character profile? Was it a target? Who is she?
Reading further into the rest of the attached files, it contains albums of this girl's house, family, home, hobbies.
It appears as if they've been stalking her for months. So many photos, some even from what appears to be her bedroom and the girl's locker room at a school.
Just as I was about to pack the files away for Eugene's later perusal I spot an emblem on the final page. A simple red square with a picture of a house within it. Unassuming as most would see a simple Retail Auctioning business.
No.
It can't...
NO.
For a moment I feel my lungs constrict. My blood turns to ice in my veins. Breath gone.
Time stands still.
The darkness pounces, scattering across my eyes, turning the edges black. Then my irises.
I'm blind. I can't see.
All I hear is the harsh THUMP of my heart banging against my eardrums. I can't hear anything. Nothing past the desperate
THUMP
THUMP
THUMP
My ribcage feels like its collapsing under the weight. My beating heart desperately trying to escape my frozen body.
Suddenly my lungs burn, begging my body to breath. Then suddenly I can't seem to take in enough air. My body breaks into harsh cold sweats as my lungs rebel against my instincts.
I can't breathe
Why can't I breathe?
My gaze having refocused somewhat to a blurred, fragmented picture I attempt to stand.
Watching in slow motion as my legs shake and tremble like a new-born fawn. Dizziness takes over and those wobbling legs give out.
My body collides with the floor and the sound reminds me of glass shattering against stone.
This was no ordinary felonious business. No simple criminal game. This was The Auction.
The largest trafficking chain in the world. Where innocent children are ripped from their homes at night and forced into the arms of villains and monsters.
Where all reality is ripped from the victims grasp with the simple "SOLD" from the Auctioneer's mouth. This was where my childhood had ended, and my torment began. This was the Auction. My Auction.
With that realisation, all fight and instinct fled my body. Organs ceasing all effort to keep me alive.
Then the darkness won.
YOU ARE READING
Her Shadows
Romance~ A World Painted Grey: Book 1 ~ Already incapacitated, I drag his limp body toward the smoking car. Fastening him back into his seat, seatbelt back in place. Then I grip his skull with my glove-clad hands and ram his head into the steering wheel. O...
