Regret Selling Me on the Black Market Now?

When I closed my eyes, the memories I had tried so hard to bury crawled back and swallowed me whole.

My mind dragged me into the hell-like black market again, into that windowless, cramped room. Lashes from whips rained down on me and forced me to learn "rules" designed to grind every shred of my dignity.

They forced me to kneel like an animal and eat straight from a dish on the floor. They made me wade in freezing water for hours, wrapped in nothing but a gossamer veil, just so my skin would look "translucent".

My body became their canvas. Cold needles tipped with pigment carved designs into my skin, while they demanded I hold poses of absolute humiliation and stay still like a lifeless puppet.

If I faltered even the slightest, the whip that had been soaked in salt water would come crashing down. That tearing, agonizing pain etched itself into my muscle memory.

The torment continued until time lost all its meaning. And the only thing that kept me going was the hope that Joshua and Daxon would save me.

But even when I was declared expendable from overuse and dragged onto the stage as a final showcase, the two were still nowhere to be seen.

Under the glare of the lights, I stood in my birthday suit as tycoons and reporters jeered from below.

A masked "executioner" painted his final strokes across my body before removing my skin for the fan. Then came a nail that hammered into my spine.

A jolt of agonizing pain shot through my body like an electric current, and I soiled myself, losing control of my body. A bloodcurdling scream tore out of my throat.

Beneath the stage, the crowd roared with thunderous laughter and lewd jokes.

"A perfect fan!"

"Perfectly trained. Even ruined, it still makes a decent decoration."

While I was utterly overwhelmed in humiliation and pain, Joshua and Daxon were still not in sight. It wasn't until the nail was fully in my vertebra that they finally appeared.

They held me and put on a full display of grief. But no one told me they were the ones pulling the strings all along, just to keep me from rivalling Ciara Smyth.

Lying in the hospital bed, I opened my eyes, which were left with nothing but emptiness.

Since they wouldn't hesitate to destroy me and soothe Ciara's insecurities, I was done with them, too.

…

After returning to the Smyth residence from the hospital, they laid me gently on the bed like a broken, emotionless doll.

Outside the room, Ciara's whining voice rang out with a snort. "Now that Madie's back, you've both forgotten about me. You're so mean. I'm not talking to you anymore!"

"Come on, Ciara. You know you're always our favorite. Check out your room. We had ten customized bags delivered just for you."

"Thank you, Daxon! You're the best!" Ciara hopped up to land a clear, smacking kiss on Daxon's cheek.

But Joshua wasn't willing to be outdone. "What about the villa I gave you in the hills? I'm going to take it back if you don't want it."

"Of course I do, Josh! I love you!" she sweetly cooed.

Then, with a sudden innocent pretense, she added, "Daxon, Josh, I really like that crystal music box in Madie's room."

My heart clenched, and I heard both men eagerly reply, "I'll get it for you."