The Auction

Chapter One : The Permitted Trip.

The auction was in a month. On my birthday, to be exact. June 1st was the day the laws were passed against women choosing their futures and so the annual auctions were held on that day as some sort of haunting reminder of the freedom women used to have. It's been well over seventy years since the first auction and society was well adapted to the process of forced marriages and men superiority. It was normal. My mother and my grandmother had both been part of the auction and I was next. Ever since I was younger I had been prepped to be the perfect housewife for whatever poor man I was sold to. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, knitting- you name it, I can do it.

Women were only permitted to leave the house on Saturdays for shopping and Sundays for mass at church. No relationships outside of the family home were permitted until the age of eighteen and after that, every interaction with someone other than your husband must be supervised and monitored by him. It was a miserable and often short life for women. Childbirth killed off around sixty percent of women since healthcare was only provided for the wealthy. Poor women died everyday from exhaustion and starvation, often because of putting their children and husband's needs before their own. It was a twisted and sick reality of a society run by men who had more of an ego than they did common sense.

Even so, I hoped for a family of my own one day. It would be the highlight of my life but I'd have to die to have it. Some girls killed themselves before or shortly after the auction, deciding that a short life of pain and manipulation wasn't worth the innocent unconditional love of a child. At some point, I'm sure I thought the same.

My father took the day off on May the first to spend the day with us. He asked for permission from the mayor of our town to take me and mother out and he accepted it, so long as we apologised for it at church and never spoke of it afterwards. It was possibly the most exciting thing that anyone could have told me, that I'd be allowed to go outside out of our allocated hours. Even mother's face lit up at the news. I suppose being trapped here was a prison for her, no matter how much she convinced herself that she was happy.

We woke up at four in the morning, wiped ourselves off with a sponge using rainwater from the bucket outside. Our water had been turned off after father didn't pay the bills. The tax on our weekly shop had gone up again, using up a portion of the water money. Knowing the instability of the economy, prices would probably be higher this week too. I pushed that thought to the back of my mind as I pulled my black tights up my legs and my grey long sleeve dress over my head. It was warm outside so I didn't bother with a shawl. Women with a higher social standing would wear short sleeves and stockings rather than tights. They would more than likely have shorter dresses too or skirts if they were lucky. Some part of me was envious of their obviously more comfortable lifestyle. The other part of me was filled with pride at being less of a trophy wife and more of a useful one when the time came.

We ate a slice of toast each in silence before beginning our trek down to the docks were father's fishing boat bobbed up and down slowly with the soft rolling of the early morning waves. It was a sight to behold with the sun rising on the horizon and the chipped navy paint blurred by the salty sea air so it looked almost brand new.

"Don't fall overboard." Father commented. It was his gruff way of saying 'be careful'. I nodded, not daring to use my voice in fear of squealing in excitement. That was undeniably my most infuriating habit for my father who claimed it was unladylike and unattractive to future buyers. He made me sound like a product rather than a person.

"Scarlett?" Mother called from the small cabin of the boat.

"Yes, mother?" I asked, making my way to the doorway.

"Could you fetch the crab baskets?"

"Yes, mother." Moments later, I had returned to the door with the two crab basket trap things in my hands, my face flushing from the heaviness that I hadn't expected from them. Mother took them from me with a grateful smile, passing them straight to my father who didn't so much as give a nod of appreciation. I sighed, slumping down on a crate at the back of the fishing boat with my brother. He was in awe at the water and reached down to swish his hand in the glistening waves.