The Upper-Class

Prologue

The sky swirled with storm clouds as Damian stepped out of the limo that his parents had requested to ride in to the clinic. The air seemed thick and uneasy to Damian and he could feel the feeling of utter disgust boiling up in him again as his dad led them through the automatic front doors of the brick building that lay in front of them. I just don't get why I have to do this, he thought as he trailed silently behind his mom across the cold tile and up to the counter. Damian let out a huff of disgust as the three of them approached the counter.

"Come on now, Damian," Mr. Trescott, Damian's father, scolded. "Don't act like this again. This is only the natural process; it's what everyone does."

"It is by no means 'natural'," Damian replied. "And what do I care if it's what 'everyone is doing'? It's wrong!"

"You will not speak like that here. You might as well get over it. We're at the clinic now and this is going to happen for you, whether you like it or not."

Damian couldn't stand to look at his father anymore. He'd always been against the idea of these stupid clinics. They were a way for shallow people to get what they want without even having to learn things for themselves. But, as far as anyone else was concerned, this was the way that things always were. It had seemed that everyone had chosen to completely forget the way things used to be all of those years ago.

It could've been a hundred years; it could've been a thousand. Who was keeping count? But, Damian had always wanted to rewind time back to the days before the country was so divided.

The poor live down in the bottom-class without clean water or even enough food for one. Gangs run all throughout the bottom-class and have more of an influence on the people there than the government does. The bottom-class is rapidly growing and is now the biggest class.

The middle-class is the smallest and shrinking even still as more and more people fall in a downwards spiral to the bottom-class where they would remain for the rest of their miserable lives until disease kills them off. Most people in the middle-class work in factories, making parts for things that people in the upper-class need. A select few people in the middle class are farmers and ranchers, growing food that the moment it's ready for harvest is sent off to the upper-class where the upper-classmen get the first choice.

And then there is the upper-class where Damian and his family live. They are on the top. They have all of the money and all of the food. There is always plenty to go around and then some. The upper-class controlls the world and Damian's family, the Trescotts, are among the top of the top.

What Damian wished more than anything was that he could figure out the exact moment in time when the clinics were invented though. He would love to go back and murder whoever had the insane idea to create these stupid places in the first place.

The clinics, as they are called, are no more than a storehouse for girls and young women. Most of the females there were all from the bottom-class. Their families had grown so desperate for money that they sold their own away to the clinics where they would be bought by anyone who desired to own them. Then, the fate of these females was in the hands of their owner who can do whatever they do desire with them.

The clinics started off as a place for women between the ages of 25 and 30 to voluntarily go to when they were looking for someone new as a kind of match-making spa, but that idea quickly turned ugly. The age limit got broader and broader and the idea of females voluntarily going was thrown out of the window along with the idea of the clinics being similar to spas. Now, any females between the ages of 10 and 60 can be sold away to these places or even taken by force. And it's hardly a spa.

The women are stripped down the day they arrive and appraised based on many factors. If she has short hair, she's cheaper. If she has any scars or birthmarks, she's cheaper. If she has any broken veins or blemishes, she's cheaper. If her hair's too short, if she's too fat, if she's too skinny, if her skin's too light, if her breasts are too small... You get the idea.