"We are all broken, that's how the light gets in."
-Ernest Hemingway
The chamber suffused with stifling silence, broken by the steady ticking of a clock that had become all too routine over the past year. I stood at attention, my posture rigid and practiced—a result of countless hours of grueling training. Today was the day I'd dreaded: the day of the auction.
The woman I had been a year ago is now a distant memory, replaced by someone else entirely. The terror that once clung to me like a shadow became buried deep, masked by a façade of obedience. I had learned to keep my emotions tightly controlled, knowing that any sign of defiance would be met with swift and brutal punishment.
The door to my cramped quarters creaked open, and a handler stepped inside. The instructor didn't speak; he didn't have to. We both knew what today meant. As I followed him down the dimly lit corridor, my mind raced with the horrifying possibilities of what lay ahead.
I thought through past conversations with the other thralls as they discussed auction day, comparing the creatures who would one day be our keepers. They all had different opinions on who would be the worst.
288 claimed that Wickeds were the most terrifying since their servants existed only to provide body parts for their arcane curses. They wouldn't survive more than a month. I'm not afraid of death; they conditioned me to accept it as a work hazard.
284 was terrified of Werewolves because they used their servants for breeding purposes. Female werewolves became infertile during their transformation and needed human mates to carry on the bloodlines. I'm not afraid of breeding; they conditioned me to accept and submit to all commands of my Master.
287 wouldn't say much to anyone except during these discussions. She would take anything but not a Succubus. Succubi used their chattel as bait to lure their prey into a trap. The servants had to sit in the shadows and watch their Sire seduce every ounce of soul until they had nothing left. I'm not afraid of witnessing horrible events; they conditioned me to endure situations others could never imagine.
No, the Vampires caused me the most trepidation—not that I would ever express such a view. We were not allowed to have opinions. The punishment would be severe if guards discovered us discussing a future owner in such a distasteful tone.
Vampires kept their property the longest. They forced their servants to feed the masters and follow commands without hesitation. Vampires had venom that could make one feel as if they were burning from the inside out for hours if they disobeyed in any manner—or if a vampire simply decided they wanted to inflict pain. They would bleed their servants or make them beg for death. Vampires don't let a person die until they are too fragile with age to continue working after a feeding. That's a long life. I'm terrified of a long life.
It had been an extensive period since simple fear could cause my heart to pound, but that idea caused it to beat erratically. The handler must have smelled it. Within a blink, he bared down at me, smiling in a way that held no happiness. The corners of his mouth stretched to reveal his jagged teeth in perfect detail.
He struck me across the face. I didn't flinch or make a sound—being hit had long since lost its sting. A honed staccato echoed off the walls as I retreated into the mental void I'd created to block out the worst traumas.
The man holding me growled low, but a gentle, melodic tisk tisk followed. "Now, now, darling, don't get ahead of yourself. You know the procedure. Release her into my care."
A moment for me to wonder if he would listen passed, but he did. After a brief hesitation and a glare, he disappeared swiftly. In his place stood a small woman dressed in elegant clothing who seemed out of place in the dark, stagnant hallway. Her platinum hair was braided in impossibly intricate patterns, with small, sparkling gems woven throughout, causing the light to fracture off them.
However, her eyes were the most striking. They were nearly pure white, with even her pupils a very light gray, instantly marking her as Wicked. Until now, I'd believed the enchanters kept their distance from the Academy's depths—this being my first encounter with one.
"Come here, sweet pea. Let's get you washed and fixed up," her candy-coated voice interrupted my thoughts.
I flinched, shocked by my reaction. Not once had I been spoken to like a living creature since being captured. The kindness was uncomfortable, disconcerting even, in contrast to the usual yelling and threats. The woman stretched her hand toward me, and I knew I had no choice but to follow. My feet moved on their own. She met me halfway, wrapping her arm around my waist in a delicate embrace. I shivered at the contact, though she was surprisingly warm.
"I know you must be cold and terrified, but let's take it one step at a time," she said, her fingers tracing small, rhythmic circles on my hip as she guided me down the hall. "First, we'll clean off all the grime, then get you into more appropriate attire."
For the past year, my wardrobe has consisted of dingy gray sweats and a shredded matching T-shirt—the same set every day. I hand-washed them while taking community showers with over a hundred other women, huddled together like cattle under a frigid trickle of water. We rushed to clean ourselves in the short duration given to us, all while leering handlers stared and whistled at us. I longed for a hot soak and a little black dress.
I pulled out of my thoughts when the woman looked at me curiously. "Do you speak?"
"Yes, ma'am." My tone was quiet, a little hoarse from lack of use. She smiled and nodded.
Our journey down the corridors continued in silence, disturbed by the distant sobbing and screams of other captives—chaos that had become part of the background. The Wicked stopped abruptly in front of an ornate ironwood door—the space beyond plain, a simple bedroom with lackluster furniture. The dense scent of lilac made me close my eyes, drawing in a profound, involuntary breath.
"The shower is through that door," she said, extending a finger toward the open frame across the area. "I'll be out here while you freshen up. The bath is already warm and waiting."
The bathroom quickly became a sanctuary of warmth and serenity. As I stepped into the bath, the scalding moisture enveloped me with a long-lost embrace. I sighed in relief. With every soothing bubble that caressed my skin, the tension of the past year dissolved.
For the first bit in an eternity, I could be alone, free of the scrutiny of others. I sunk deeper into the water, savoring the gentle rise and fall of the bubbles around me. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as I luxuriated in the warmth, not emerging until the temperature had cooled and my fingers pruned from the extended soak.
I carefully exited the tub and discovered a fresh midnight towel on the counter. I wrapped myself in it and took a second to appreciate the soothing plush against my raw skin. I swiped away the condensation that had collected on the mirror, revealing a person I scarcely recognized.
My once-rounded cheeks had sunken, giving me a skeletal appearance that spoke of deprivation and despair. The light that once danced in my gaze had dimmed, leaving a vacant, tired gaze behind. I stared at the reflection of a stranger who was undeniably me—a haunting reminder of what I had lost. I gave the reflection a final glance and, with a resounding sigh, returned to the stark chamber.
Empty.
The door creaked open, and the woman from earlier stepped inside. Her expression was a careful mask of neutrality. However, the gleam in her stare betrayed a hint of triumph that she struggled to hide.
"I've received word that the Academy selected your new owner," she said, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of forced calm. "We need to get you clothed right away. Punctuality is of the essence."
Her hands moved with practiced efficiency, betraying her underlying excitement as she sped across the interior and waved to the clothes lying on the bed. The Wicked carefully lifted the dress from a velvet-lined hanger, its fabric catching the light in a subtle shimmer. As she slipped it over my head, the smooth silk whispered on my skin, fitting like a second layer— simple, elegant, and unmistakably black.
As the woman adjusted the straps on my shoulders, I remembered that last evening of freedom—the quiet hum of the city and the way I had smiled without dread. The garments were a devastatingly cruel reminder of the life I'd lost and of the person I used to be.
That didn't stop the flood of emotions from slipping through my trained facade. I rubbed my fingers over the delicate material, unable to hide my awe. "Wow, this is amazing."
"It's almost like that dress was made for you." Her smile faltered a little, and she sighed. "Alright, enough. Your Master is waiting."
Having this continued has been a dream of mine. I can't wait to go even farther than I have before!
I would love your encouragement! Please leave comments as you see fit, and don't forget to ★ V O T E ★
FINAL EDIT: 01/25/25
I will not edit this again on 抖阴社区. Any further changes will be kept in a published-only version.