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The people who want to cut me into parts.
Or worse. What word did he use before?
Breeder.
A shiver runs through me. He senses it, the smile going wider as he turns to The Mother and gives her a nod. Her face falters, eyes narrowing in confusion, but she nods back.
Then says something to Rooney that makes him become angry.
He slides his paddle to The Mother, who raises it and says, “Three sixty.”
“Four hundred!” cries the fat man in the back, the one who licks his lips when he looks at me.
I close my eyes and swallow, fighting for air. My eyes open, as if some piece of me needs to see this truth.
This visceral, unchangeable truth.
Murmurs fills the room, eyes on Cam again as he slowly lifts his paddle and says in a firm voice:
“One billion dollars.”
Gasps and groans abound, but I hear nothing, see nothing,amnothing but that grin, that gaze.
For he takes a sip, then, still looking at my soul, announces:
“I am the truth.”
Darkness fills the edges of my vision, mingling with lightning strikes that flutter in the periphery, as if my brain is on overload, electricity and blood fighting to find balance.
The crowd erupts, but he sips his drink, then holds up one hand, setting the paddle down.
“Going once,” cries the announcer, as The Mother glares at Rooney.
“Going twice!” he shouts as the fat man’s mouth purses in disgust, hand reaching for a bottle of amber liquor.
“SOLD!”
I am sold. Sold to Cam.
His words from… yesterday? Time has no meaning. I don’t know where I am.
Or evenwhenI am.
But his words ring through my pain-filled head:
“I promise you this: no matter how long it takes, no matter how many questions you have, no matter how painful or confusing it all is, I’m here. I am here for you. I am here to walk this journey with you. You will come out on the other end of it healthier and whole.”
He said that to me, and he meant it.
Right?
I have to believe he’s buying me to save me. This is the only explanation.
It can be the only reason he would deliver me here.
“Mother,” he calls out, walking next to her, hand reaching to take hers as he approaches her left side. She is unsteady, but rises, as he holds up his half-full glass, dropping her hand once she is standing. The crowd goes silent, so quiet you could hear a church mouse squeak.
Handing her his paddle, he smiles. A foot taller than her, with the same dark coloring, he’s so regal, cutting a fine figure, with a commanding presence fit for a king.
