Fight For Life

Chapter Four: Why?

The stench hangs stagnent and I fight the need to cough. I'm glad there's a veil over my face, hiding my fear, hiding the sweat that's dripping down my face.

"Marielena, hold still. You're beautiful. They're going to take good care of you, I promise." Poppa's voice sounds unsure, but I don't say anything as he strokes one of my auburn curls. Are we at a fair? Maybe, otherwise I wouldn't be so dressed up.

"For number seven, any bids?" Okay, so maybe not a fair, but an auction. Maybe we're auctioning our furniture? We need the money badly. I look around, seeing if I recognize anything. Thick voices shouting offers continue for awhile before I realize what number seven is. Or, rather, who. I am number seven. I'm the piece people are paying money for. I glare at my parents, desperately searching for confirmation. No, the piece isn't me, I just can't see it. We'll go home afterwards. They look away, it's true. This is really happening. Momma and Poppa are selling me. That explains getting dressed up, all the tension, the stage I'm just noticing now. I'm being sold. My eyes well up, and before I can help myself, I'm screaming hysterically.

"MOMMA! POPPA! DON"T LEAVE ME!!" My voice is hoarse and I start to run. Thick arms grab me.

"You're going to be a fiesty one." A gruff voice leers at me, I can feel his breath on my neck. I hate him already. I was sold. I don't feel hurt, I'm beyond that. I feel alone and numb. I look back at my parents, trying to burn them with my hatred. They try to look brave, cowards.

"I'm sorry."

"Marielena, We love you!"

I don't say or feel anything. I have nothing to say.

*                                                                         *                                                                *

I sit up in bed, and a cold sweat breaks out. I need to remind myself who I am. I am Aurora, not Marielelna. That was a dream. A really freaky dream that was really realistic.... about my mother? This has to be fake, doesn't it? As I'm thinking about this, I realize. I know nothing about my mom. She was always just my mom. This could have happened, and I would never know. Why didn't I ever talk to my mom when I had the chance? Maybe... no. Well... maybe. Coughing I climb up to the attic, sending puffs of dust into the air. Thank God it's still there! Sitting in the corner is the mahogony chest that's always been there, for as long as I can remember.

Everytime something special happened to her, my mom would place something in the box. The box was strictly off limits to me. I hesitate for a minute, then move towards it. I'm curious. Why shouldn't I look in the box? My mom left me here! I have the right to know her secrets. Resolutely I place my hands on the cool wood and brush off the dust. I'm crossing a line, even though I've known this box all my life. Creeeeeeek.

I open the box.