"No!" I screamed, the guy who had blue eyes wanted to see my wound. A wound that never heals, a memory that never fades, a scar that reminds me of being a slave, the one I never wanted anyone to see.
"Who did this!" he said, clinching his fist. And I was about to mutter a yelp, couldn't hold the pain the wound had reminded me.
As I remember the whole scene, Hardin sold me to a chinese cyndicate before his fall. The chinese man refused to take me home instead he payed triple than what Lukas bid, all he wanted is only my healthy organ, my left kidney.
I am sold to prolong a life of a child, a life of his daughter he wanted to save. A life to give a life, I must be a hero then, but that man didn't even say thanks. Nor given me all the credits.
I was force to lie in an empty table, dark room without ventilation. There, my hands were chained, and I am about to block out from the pain, hazy eyes, tormented.
I remember the pain, schorching down from my deepest vein. I remember the sound of the blade used to open my skin, I remember each detail how the pain numb me, on how I scream.
A scream that no one could hear, a cry that no one would cares, a question that no one could answers.
Why me?
Why me?
Why me?
Am I a bad child? Tears rolled at the side of my eyes, never been empty and dried. Never lose hope to asked God, to just end my life.
I look at my hands, afraid of what I become. Those scars had left me broken, left me none but only hatreds and fears,
Left me only but tears.
YOU ARE READING
Thralled
Mistério / SuspenseI'm a ślave.. a rich man came and bought me.. THRALLED © 2017 Jane Ann Gonzales c r a z i e j a y n e
