Jacksepticeye Imagines

Sold (1)

Word Count: 815

(Warning: human trafficking, brief mention of assault, but nothing too heavy in this chapter)

You stood on the elevated ground with a cold stare at the wall. You felt like a mannequin on display, clothed only in an expensive bra and underwear. These were provided to you by the organization. God knows you couldn't afford them.

Other girls around your age stood among you, which was frightening, as you were only seventeen. You were sure the girl opposite you wasn't even fifteen. You couldn't control the way your face contorted in pity. All the girls were thin, as well. This didn't surprise you. If you could afford to eat well, you wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

The girl to your left was your roommate for the last couple of days. She was twenty and homeless. She had long, frizzy hair that was greasy when you first met her but was now clean and straightened. They cleaned you up, too. You had to be prepped for the auction.

They shaved off all visible body hair, scrubbed your skin so much that it was red for hours. They washed and treated your hair. That morning, they curled your hair into soft waves and put light makeup on your skin. Looking in the mirror, you almost didn't recognize yourself.

Customers were starting to arrive. Middle aged, well-dressed men walked through the back doors; the front doors were boarded up. They looked the girls up and down, circling them like vultures. A few men stopped to stare at you, and it took all you had to not show the disgust on your face. You looked to the youngest girl, whose face was red from being groped.

The auction started at five o'clock in the morning. Some of the girls were gone by five thirty. You were in a car at seven, on the way to a house where you would possibly live for some months. At least you were given clothes to wear, even though they hardly covered more than what was underneath. You zoned out the entire ten minutes in the car, and by the time you drifted back into reality, a man was holding the door open for you. What a gentleman.

In a flash, you were sitting on a plain bed in a plain room, your heart pounding in your chest. Although your room was plain, the rest of the how was filled with antiques and expensive items that, surely, no one needed. You layed back and stared at the ceiling for who knows how long before someone knocked on your door.

When they didn't open the door, you answered, "C-come in."

In walked a boy who looked your age, holding a plate with a sandwich on it.
"I just thought, you know, you might be hungry," he said awkwardly.

You nodded quickly and stood up. "Yeah, um, thank you." He held the plate out and you hesitantly took it.

When he left the room, you took the sandwich apart to inspect it. It looked fine, so you ate it. There was another knock on the door, but this time he opened the door. The boy was holding a glass of water.

He gave it to you and said, "My name's Jack, by the way."

As he turned around, you responded, "My name's (Y/N)." He showed you a slight smile before leaving again.

Not even an hour later, you heard hushed whispers outside your door. You couldn't make out any words from the conversation, but it didn't sound calm or polite. You only heard, "Go in there."

The door opened, and the boy was in front of you again. He looked even more flustered as he closed the door behind him. You stayed still as he lifted his eyes to look at you.

"I'm not gonna do anything," he whispered, crossing the room. "Don't worry."

You still held your breath when he sat down beside you. You released it when he rubbed his face with his hands.

"My dad is. . . something else. My grandparents are even worse, though. They made him this way. He thinks it's better for my image if I have a girlfriend, or even just for the press coverage. He's crazy, but. . . who knows what kind of people you could have gone to. I mean, my dad is bad sometimes, but I promise no one is gonna lay a hand on you as long as you're here."

All you could do was stare as he rambled, then nod. He stood up awkwardly. "We're uh, we're going on a fake date tomorrow. We're just gonna go for coffee then we'll come back."

You nodded in response. This was a strange situation, but certainly better than the alternative.

(A/N) it's late and I'm tired but I might make a part two to this later.