Survivor

Chapter 8

Julie's POV:

After Tony gave him his orders, the guard took me out of the room. He didn't say anything to me the entire walk through the mansion. I didn't really want to talk to him but maybe a little conversation of some sort would have been okay.

He took me past the same set of stairs that I had run down when I was trying to get away from Dylan but we didn't walk down them. I also noticed that we were coming from a different direction and it all made me feel a little confused about where I was exactly even though I recognized everything. We just continued in the same direction I had come from to start with.

We walked past the room I was in with Dylan and I couldn't help but look through the door that was still open and into the room. The lamp was on the floor where he had laid and the glass from the bulb was scattered about. No one appeared to be in there let alone care about what had happened in there.

"We will use this room for now since this collector isn't back yet." The man told me and he opened the door and then locked it once we were inside.

"You try to run again, I won't hesitate in shooting you." He told me as he walked me over to the white backdrop that was against the wall.

"I won't," I told him.

I was already feeling defeated when it came to getting away from here before the auction. I'm thinking that maybe I need to just wait and see if after I am sold if I can somehow get away then.

"Can't have the buyers see more than necessary." He said as he started to button the buttons of my shirt back up.

He actually appeared to be rather nice but so did Dylan and look where that assumption got me. I think they are just doing what they need to do to ensure that the sales happen and they don't get killed like Dylan did. Aggression with the captives may not go over very well but then again, I don't know how the other collectors treat them either. I could be completely wrong about what happens behind their closed door.

"For the most part you look fine, even your hair and makeup so we are just going to leave it go. I don't know anything about that anyway so I probably shouldn't be trying to fix it." He chuckled as he walked behind the camera and started to take photos.

This time the lights in front of me flashed each time he snapped a picture which tells me that Dylan was never taking any, to begin with. He really was just standing behind the camera watching me.

After probably about six or seven different shots, he finally walked out from behind the camera.

"Come, now we need to get your profile information created." He said as he grabbed my arm so I wouldn't try to run again and pulled a little memory disc out from the camera.

We walked out of the room and through the house. Everything appeared to be on the same side of the house as the cell block. At least that's where I think it is. So this half must have been for the ones captured for the auction. Maybe the area Tony was in was the actual house that he lives in? I'm not sure but it was on the opposite side as the cell block.

We walked up another flight of stairs and down a few hallways before we got to a room and he opened the door. We walked in and the first thing I noticed was that it just looked like a regular office. A little fancy for one but still just an office. There was a desk with a laptop on it, bookshelves, a couch, rugs, and plants. Just the normal things that you would normally see.

The only thing that I don't think is normally in an office is a handcuff that is attached to the metal bar of the couch. There was also a scale that measured your weight as well as your height, to the side of the couch. He walked me over to the scale and had me stand on it.

"Five foot six inches and 120 pounds." He mumbled to himself and wrote it down.

He then moved me away from the scale and just as I had thought, he walked me over to the side of the couch that had the handcuff.

"Sit." He ordered and almost pushed me down onto the couch.

"What are you doing?" I asked in fear as he knelt down in front of me.

"I'm not going to touch you if that's what you're worried about. You're not my type anyway." He said as he grabbed the cuff and then my arm.

I tried to pull my arm away but he just held on to it tighter. I didn't want to get handcuffed to a couch so I balled up my fist of my free hand and I hit him hard in the face. I cried out from the pain in my hand and he brought his arm up and pushed me back onto the couch with his forearm over my neck, pressing down.

"Now, I may not have hurt you yet but that doesn't mean if you don't stop provoking me that I won't take matters into my own hands and put you in your place. Now stop fighting me and just do as you are told." He said as he glared into my eyes.

"Cooperation will be your saving grace." He continued, reminding me of what Dylan had said as well.

Something tells me that they are both trying to tell me what I needed to do if I expected to survive through all of this. Doesn't mean it will get me out of it all but maybe at least allow me to live and survive. That alone is my goal. Freedom can always happen later, as long as it happens.

I nodded my head and he slowly released the pressure of his arm on my neck and pulled away. He continued to put the cuff around my wrist and I let him.

"This way, I can fill out your information without you getting away." He said as he got up and walked over to the laptop.

"How do you know if I'm telling you the truth?" I asked him and he just smiled.

"Doesn't really matter, really. Most of the time we don't actually know the answers and most don't cooperate anyway. Just answer how you would like it to show on your profile. If the buyer finds out you lied, then deal with the consequences from the buyer." He told me and I swallowed hard.

It made me really question my decision to try to make myself appear younger than what I am. Now I had thoughts going through my mind of them finding out that I lied and what they might do to me. The thoughts of them torturing me, killing me, selling me again, was the only thing that was going through my mind.

"Your name!" I heard him shout and I looked over at him as he was glaring at me.

"I've asked you several times, what name do you want to go by?" He asked me.

"Would my real one help me get found by the police?" I asked him and he just shrugged.

"If it does, good for you. They won't find their way back to us though so we don't really care what name you use." He told me and I just nodded.

"Julianne Wilson," I told him in hopes that it might save me one day and he started to type on the computer.

"Most of these questions I can fill out myself just by looking at you." He said and started to type on the computer.

"Blue eyes, blonde wavy hair midway down the back." He was mumbling to himself as he continued to fill in my description.

"How old are you?" He asked and I thought about it.

Do I want to give my actual age of 18 or do I just want to give them a different age? It's a risk I will take, could mean my life but it needs to be done.

"15," I told him and he just looked at me unsure if that was really my age.

"Possibly but I think you would pass as 16 better." He said.

"But less likely for me to not have had my period by then. They gave me a shot to stop that for a few months." I told him and he just nodded.

"15 it is then." He said.

"Virgin?" He asked and looked up at me.

"If not, how many men?" He continued and my heart started to beat a little faster in nervousness.

"I've told you that already," I told him.

"But now is the time you need to tell me the truth." He said as if he was not believing me.

"What if I told you I wasn't and just gave you a number of men?" I asked him and he just sighed.

"Then you get put into a used category and those categories tend to get sold to the ones who run brothels, or to pimp you out. Those are less likely to be the ones who want a mail-order bride, or ones who just want to take pictures or videos to upload and sell." He told me and I felt a cold chill run down my spine.

The thought of getting put somewhere where I have to lay and spread my legs for every paying customer was something I was really hoping to avoid. Maybe being a mail-order bride won't be all that bad or even ones who just take pictures. I guess I could get lucky and find one that I could possibly fall in love with.

"Now, that's just the better side of who could purchase you. Some are much worse and some don't care how much physical pain they cause you, virgin or not because torture is the reason why they made the purchase to begin with." He then told me, pulling me from my thoughts of getting bought by someone halfway decent.

"Yes," I told him and he continued to look at me, unsure of what I was answering to.

I felt uncomfortable and scared so I looked away from him.

"I'm a virgin," I said rather softly but he managed to hear me, either that, or he figured out what my yes was the answer to.

"Don't lie about this. You do know, that is one that I am required to check right?" He asked and I felt my bottom lip start to tremble.

"Why?" I asked him and looked back over at him.

"Because that will raise your price dramatically and is also inspected again before the sale is finalized. The buyers nowadays require proof. A lot of sellers, years ago, were faking that just so they could get more cash and it started to cause a lot of problems." He told me and I quickly wiped the first and hopefully the only tear away from my face with my free hand.

"Could you please just take my word for it?" I asked him in a shaky voice.

"No, I'm afraid not. If that's what you want on your profile, I must double-check. You are then under my supervision for the remainder of your time here to ensure that you stay that way or it will be my head just like your friend Dylan." He told me and I hiccupped as I tried to hold back my tears of frustration and humiliation.

"Okay," I slowly told him with a nod of my head and he started to type again on the computer.

Once he was done he got up from his chair and he walked over to where I was sitting and knelt down in front of me. I wanted so badly to kick him in the face with my foot but that's not exactly going to get me unhooked from this couch and isn't really going to do me any good in the long run.

"Scoot down so I can verify for the profile." He told me and I just sat there and shook my head.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." He said and placed his hand on my thigh.

I took my free hand and pushed his hand away from me as I continued to fight with keeping my tears at bay.

"Please don't touch me," I told him and sniffled.

"I can either do this with just me in the room or I can go get a few more guards to hold you down while I do the check." He said, basically threatening me with more eyes viewing upon me.

I took a deep breath, pushed my feelings to the side and did as he had asked, and scooted down on the couch till my rear was at the very edge of the cushion. He lifted my skirt and pushed my legs open. I looked away from what he was doing and just closed my eyes. I could feel his fingers touching me as he moved the thong out of the way and spread me open. I could no longer contain my tears anymore and they started to flood down both of my cheeks.

It didn't take long before he was done and he was pulling my skirt back down and walking back over to the computer. I was relieved for him to be done and my face was so heated from embarrassment. I took my free hand and used it as a fan to try to cool down my cheeks.

"Okay, your profile is set up but on hold until you are available for the auction." He told me and I sat up feeling confused.

"But Dylan said I was going in this next auction? Why wouldn't I be ready?" I asked him.

"Because, now, it's time for your punishment for trying to run." He told me and my heart quickened its pace in my chest.

I had completely forgotten about that and I started to cry as he got up and walked over to where I was sitting.

"Please! You said you wouldn't hurt me! Can't you just throw me in a cell for the week of starvation?" I begged him as he unlocked the cuff and pulled me off of the couch.

"No, because he has cameras and will know if I don't do what I was told." He told me and I just started to cry harder and pulled on my arms to try to pull away from him and scratched him down his arm in hopes he would let me go.

He just grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder and started to carry me out of the room. I banged on his back with my fists over and over but it was doing me no good. I couldn't kick him either because he had his hands over my legs, holding them down.

He carried me down a few sets of stairs, tears still falling from my eyes, and through a door that lead into an area of the house that was all concrete. It was cold and looked a lot like the cellblock. My tears started to dry up as he carried me into a square room with a single light hanging above a chair that had locks for the person's ankles and wrists.

He set me down in the chair and I tried to fight him off but he managed to put the locks around my wrists and ankles anyway. Immediately after, his fist came down and hit me in the face, causing me to cry out in pain and I turn to spit the blood out onto the floor.