Thriller Stories Collection

The 1870 Mentality

It was 1870.

I was 18 years old, locked in my cold room. The dancing fire from the candle made the room's emptiness a bit more wild - something women shouldn't know.

*clang*

'Father's home,' I murmured.

I took the piece of a shattered mirror I once stole to check my reflection. Women were not allowed to praise themselves, or even make sure that they look good. Their beauty should always be decided by the man of the house.

After releasing a deep sigh, I then proceeded to remove my dress, leaving only my undergarments.

I sat in the old rocking chair my father bought.

After a few minutes, he then went inside my room. Hurriedly, I looked down to his feet. It was a golden rule to never look a man straight in his eyes.

"Katriva, stand," he commanded.

I slowly stood up. I felt his eyes scan through me, which gave me goosebumps. Ever since I turned 18, my father began choosing my clothes to wear for the day.

"Remove your undergarments," he continued.

I felt my heart drop.

"S-sir?" I nervously responded.

Being known as the most impatient man of our street, he walked towards me and began removing the rest of my clothes.

My body responded by holding his hands to stop him. Suddenly, I felt a shot of pain from my cheek. 'He hit me,' I thought. My tears were formulating but I tried my best not to show. He'd get furious to see me crying.

I let him remove the last bit of clothes and dignity I had.

"Hmm," he began. "You're absolutely disgusting." His hands began touching parts of my body, squeezing and hitting them like checking the structure of chicken sold in the market.

"S-sir, if I may, where will we go today?" I asked, hoping he would say I'm staying home.

"I'm selling you today," he responded casually.

"Y-yes sir," I said with a little bow.

My knees finally gave up. I bursted into tears. It's painful how women are treated as treasures sold for a good price. My father even let my mother be rented to different men and uses the money for his gambling, which ultimately led to her death.

"Katriva!" shouted father.

"C-coming sir!"

I hurriedly changed into the clothes my father had set. However, he didn't set any undergarments for me. No underwear, no top cover.

The dress was so tight and vulgar. Almost half of my breasts were exposed, my skirt was inches above my knees. If I bend down, I'm pretty sure everyone would see everything.

Slowly, I went down to where father was. He was holding a chain with rubber-like locks for my hands. I wore my hood, because father didn't want anyone else to see me, as he perceived me disgusting and for only the buyer to see.

As we pushed through our way towards the auction, I heard men snort in disgust beside me and some even lift my skirt up. But because my arms were tied and my eyes were covered, I was helpless.

"Ahh, sir Leonardo! I see you've brought your daughter today as promised." A man probably in his mid-30s spoke to my father with the utmost respect.

"Of course, Trivio!" he said back. "I'll let you have her. Make sure to get a fair price!" he added before waving goodbye.

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