Her's To Take

"Fifty!"

"Fifty and half!"

"Fifty-five!"

For heaven's sake I was being priced like a common commodity.

What sort of a father would have his daughter auctioned to raise money to pay up his debt?

Mine had got me auctioned, to raise some money for his debts to the casino, and he had merely invited me to his so-called birthday party, but the birthday party now turned into a sales game, to this very extent of having me auctioned.

I wanted to flee from the hall, but he had earlier asked me to stand there, on the podium, where everyone can see me, described me, my features, and what have you, and then made it clear that I would be given out to the highest bidder.

When on earth did, I become such an asset, that I would be sold off to the league of old gamblers and Italian mafias who had gathered in the hall, that celebrate the new age of my father who was heavily in debt.

Gosh!

I had my eyes on the doors.

I wished the light would go off, and if ever it would be that gracious, I would flee from the hall, and from the city, to wherever I was sure my father and his mafia cartel would never find me.

"Fifty-five and half!"

Is that my worth?

This was a big-time trafficking here.

Maybe we were probably back to the nineteenth century, where such trade was a common game. Maybe we were back in the days of Habbakuk and his harlot wife whom he bought with money when she strolled into the hands of the lords who got her auctioned.

"Fifty-seven!"

I knew the man who just yelled fifty-seven.

He had always had his eyes on me, but I don't like him because he was fat, and he was same age with my father who got me auctioned.

Everyone turned to him. He seemed to be the highest bidder with the fifty-seven he yelled, but my father seemed not to be satisfied with the fifty-seven.

He needed more.

That little amount wouldn't pay up his debt.

"Sixty!"

Another man from the back had his hand in the air.

Of all the bidders, he had bid the most, but he was old.

Yeah, I have my choices here.

If I was going to be given out to the highest bidder, then I pray to be given to a young person, not these old fellows who would have my life messed in their closets.

"There is a fixed price for her, but you guys are bidding below the fixed price." My father said from his conner.

"What's the fixed price?"

The fat guy seemed to be ready to take me home at all cost, but I kept imagining what life would be with that man as my master.

Life with him would be hell, but slaves have no choice when they are sold to a new master.

I call myself a slave because if I could be sold off this way, then I had been a mere slave to my father, not a daughter.

"Two hundred million dollars." My father said.

That was nearly the complete price of his debt.

"The highest bidder would pick her, but at that price." He said with a stern look on his face.

I hated him for his words. I hated him for being such a bloody gambler who would sell off his daughter for a debt he accumulated from his gambling addiction.

I wished he would choke on his words and just perish this very moment, but trust me, devils don't perish that easily.

They live longer than you can imagine, just to keep wreaking havoc on the innocent.

"But that's too much for a lady her age and worth." The fat guy said with some trace of hate in his voice.

Yeah!

He doesn't have the money. None of them has the money, so, finally, he would ask me to leave the podium, and with that, I would buy the time to escape for good.

"Keep quiet if you don't have the money!" father yelled.

He was strict, even at sells point.

But I wonder why he felt no shame in selling off his daughter, if being strict was a way of showing off some pride.

Why wasn't he careful with the casino when he was getting himself into the mess that led him into having me auctioned?

I hate him!

"If that's what you say, let's see who buys your slut for that huge amount. Remember you are indebted to the casino. Sell her for sixty and pay some debt." The fat guy said with his hand spread as though he was a savior who had come to save my father the stress of dying in debts.

My father shrugged and relaxed on the seat he set next to me at the podium.

"Let the bidding continue, and let the rich do their thing."

Father has a way of mocking those who thought they would mock him and go away with their mess, and his way of retorting to them was quite hurtful.

The fat guy felt the blow.

I saw it in his eyes. It was hot on him.

"Seventy-seven." The old man at the back who bided sixty the other time said.

Why on earth is this old man so interested in buying me off like a bread at the storehouse?

What does he need me for?

I can't just tell, but I remained quiet. By the way, I was just a vessel in the hands of my father, who wants money in exchange of me.

"Give her to him! Is he not the highest bidder now? Or don't you want to sell your thing!" a fellow screamed from the other corner. He was another thing old man like the one who had been on top of the bidding.

"You might be selling her cheaper than this if you don't sell her for seventy. She doesn't worth more than that!"

"The old fellow wants her for his last son, that's why he is bidding this high, sell her!"

"Two hundred million dollars!"

The hall went silent.