Pure Intentions || Hiatus

Chapter Ten: Not in England Anymore

"This young one is firm with toned muscles. We start at 40."

"60!"

"I bid at 80!"

The more the numbers went up, the more Kathleen wanted to vomit.

"120!"

Although doing so may make her a target to be given to the mist.

"140 right here!"

Kathleen was up on a bare stage standing on a stone block, so that "she could be viewed by everyone". She felt exposed. Violated. She hated it. Being shown to a group of people that saw her for nothing more as than an object.

"I bid 180!"

Kathleen never felt like this in performances. Then again, she was never alone on that stage. She was with her classmates. They were dancing to pieces that they rehearsed for months. She would raise her arms and lift her legs, all while making sure she stayed poised and graceful. She would do anything to be performing alone in a theater right then. In her World. To be in a ridiculous costume and dance on pointe to the music she only listened to minutes prior.

Instead, she was on a stage with the same man who had held a knife to Eustace's neck, in front of people who probably wanted her to do things that were other than dancing. She might as well be food.

"Anymore bid?"

Mumbles went on after the man called out, who was the Auctioneer of the "market". No one's voice rose higher than the others. The Auctioneer put a wooden board around Kathleen's neck like a twisted necklace. "Sold," it said.

Kathleen's mouth had dropped open in horrification. The Auctioneer grabbed Kathleen by the side of her arms and pick her up and pushed her aside. A man she didn't recognize caught her and pulled her along to the side of a small table. Multiple books and pens were placed in the center of it, as well as a single box.

"Name." Said the name who was holding her. She couldn't bring herself to say anything. Chills were running down her back. "Name." He said in a firmer voice. Again, she couldn't force words out, not even when a pain shocked her face.

"Hey!" Barked a new voice. No, not new. She heard it before. A few moments ago in fact. "Don't bring scrapes to what is mine." It was the man from the crowd. The highest bidder. She became sick all over again.

"Sorry, sir." The one gripping her arms had said, but she knew he didn't really mean it. "I was just waiting on a name for the log." He squeezed her tighter. She clenched her teeth. "Name?"

Behind her, she could the people from the crowd call out numbers. It was Lucy's turn.

"I bid 80!"

"100 for the little lady!"

Kathleen gagged.

"I'll just call you," the buyer paused, "Duana. Yes," he said, holding her chin, "Duana will fit you just nice."

Kathleen turned her head away. She recognized this man from somewhere else. He was in the church as well. The one who was holding on to Edmund and Caspian as they were being taken away.

"160!"

Kathleen's breath was quickening. She wanted to cry, but she knew it would be wise to hold all emotions back.

"Alright," said the man with the iron grip, who Kathleen guessed was the bookkeeper. He shoved Kathleen to the man who raised the highest bid. The bidder put his right forearm around her chest and shoulders. His bicep was muscular and hairy with traces of black oil. Kathleen could smell the dirt and soot as he forcefully pressed against her back. She gasped as she tried to pull away with her chain-linked hands, but the arm wouldn't budge.