Page 4 of Marked By Tank
No.
I do not mean to say it out loud, but I do.
The woman closes the door behind her. “You should sit before you fall.”
“I need to leave.”
“That won’t be happening.”
I stare at her. I know what she said. The words land one by one, like they have to drag through syrup to reach me.
“I didn’t come here.”
“No,” she says. “You were brought.”
Brought.
The word makes me feel sick.
“My... my family drugged me.” I hear how strange my voice sounds. Soft. Unsteady. Far away. “I need a phone.”
Something flickers across her face atfamily. It is gone so fast I almost miss it.
“I can’t help you.”
“You can open the door. Please.”
She says nothing to that.
The music outside keeps pulsing. Low and thick. My head throbs with it.
I blink at her. “What is this place?”
Her expression does not change.
“An auction.”
The room goes still.
Or maybe I do.
I know what the word means. I know it right away. My mind just refuses to hold it for a second, like if it lets go, this will become something survivable.
It doesn’t.
“They sold me.”
It is not a question.
She does not answer.
She does not have to.
The chemise. The gloss. The room. The way she looks at me like I am already spoken for by the building itself.
Earl sold me.
Travis sold me.
