Bride Auction: Chapter 3 - Damned if You Do

YOU

Not awake. Not asleep. Voices filter into the twilight.

“She’s severely malnourished. Her system isn’t used to such a rich diet.” Male voice. Gray-haired man, maybe.

“Chicken and carrots?” asks the man. My not-uncle. His voice holds disbelief. "For God's sake. It's regular food."

“For you. Not for her. Chicken Provencal and balsamic roasted carrots. Not to mention garlic bread. She can't handle it. Not yet. She needs to eat smaller, frequent meals. Eggs, oatmeal, porridge, yogurt, milk.”

“For how long?" asks the woman. She's unhappy. "The ball is in six weeks. She can't be weak in body or mind. If she's not in prime condition, she won't fetch a good price.

"Now, now, Cordie. Don't panic."

"We've already spent so much money, and our own daughter won't even benefit from our preparations."

"And whose fault is that?" asks the man. Fury coats his words.

"Reggie..."

"Enough. Doctor, will she be able to eat normally before the ball?"

“Yes. I think so. After a week, you can add fish, chicken, vegetables. I’ll create a diet plan that will ensure she's eating well by the time she attends the White Jade Ball. I recommend exercise, too, with a weight lifting aspect. Building her muscles will help her process protein better."

“Fine, fine," says the man. "We’ll get her a trainer.”

“Even in this state, she’s quite beautiful," says the doctor. "Very much like Miss Amelia.”

“Let’s hope she doesn’t end her life the way that woman did. Hanging herself in the attic. So vulgar.” Man’s voice is disgusted. “Let's just get through this, all right? Once she’s married off, it won’t matter to us what she does.”

YOU

For three days, I stay in a guest room. The room is big. So big, it can fit all the huge bedroom furniture and a couch and a chaise and a desk.

It’s filled with white things. Pillows, bedcovers, carpets.

It’s all sharp, too. Decorative items, tables, lamps---they all have edges.

Dr. Payne seems nice, but he’s polite. Distant. Professional. He treats the wounds on my back. Gives me bowls of medicinal tonics. Daily vitamins.

I’m fed porridge, warm milk, hard-boiled eggs, and on Day 3, tender pieces of skinless chicken breasts. The food is bland, but it’s better than the stale bread and cold oatmeal provided by Doris.

For the first time I can remember, my belly feels full. It's amazing, this feeling. After the maid takes away the lunch tray, I settle against the pillows. Enough to eat. Time to rest. No one hitting, pinching, screaming.

It feels like a dream. If it is, I hope I sleep forever.

Across the room, past the seating area with its white chairs and glass tables, are floor-to-ceiling windows. In the middle, a set of opened glass doors invite a gentle breeze. With it comes the smells of wet earth tinged with sting of pine and salt of ocean.

The mansion sits on a forested hill, a king's castle meant to look out on its fiefdom. From this perch I see the majesty of Imperial City.

Modern mirrored buildings glint in the sunshine. There are other structures, deep red, dark green, bright yellow, ancient and imposing, from when Imperial City was a royal mecca.

Beyond the city is the blue, blue, blue ocean. In the far distance, the crescent shape of Tian Tian Island is framed by the golden horizon.

The boy sits on the chaise lounge. Looks out the window. He throws the red ball in the air. Catches it.

I imagine that the wind from the opened glass doors ruffles his dark hair. I’ve noticed that the wound near his eye seems to bleed less.

Maybe he’s healing, too.

“Do you feel better, Jin-Jin?”

“I feel less terrible,” I say.

“Rest. I’ll watch over you.”

“You’re not real,” I mutter. Then I slip under the covers and go back to sleep.

YOU

It’s dark. The air is thick. Dusty. I hide between a tower of boxes and an old metal file cabinet.

I shouldn’t be in the attic.

But Mommy’s in the attic.

And I want to be with Mommy.

Rain slashes at the circle window. Thunder cracks. Seconds later, lightning flashes.

I see a shadow.

Swinging.

Swinging.

I cover my ears. Squeeze my eyes shut.

“Jin-Jin.” I feel his hands on my shoulders. I peek out between my fingers.

It’s him.

The boy.

“Don’t look, okay? I’m going to take you out of here, but you gotta promise to only look at me.”

“Mommy...”

The fear in his eyes makes my stomach clench.

“I’m picking you up, Jin-Jin. I’m taking you away, all right? Only look at me. Look at Bubby.”

YOU

I wake up standing near the tree line. The rain soaks my pajamas. Plasters my hair to my face. In the distance, thunder rumbles.

I don’t know what drives me into the forest, but I go. My bare feet suffer against the rocky ground. I step on sticks. Mud squishes between my toes.

But I go.

I go.

I don’t know how long I walk before I find the wide-trunked oak tree. Even before I realize what I’m doing, I put my fingers at hip level and trace the letters. Jin-Jin. Bubby.

It’s a secret.

Our secret.

But ... but how do I know?

“You’re remembering, Jin-Jin.”

I look down. The boy’s hand is over mine. And my hand is smaller. Much smaller. His is big.

“Keep our place a secret. Don’t tell anyone. Whenever you don’t feel safe, you can come here. Wait for me. I promise I’ll find you.”

He’s not talking to me. Not the now me.

The young me.

“You were real?” I ask him. "Who are you?"

He says nothing. My heart pounds as he leads me around the tree. There’s a dip. And then a small wooden structure. It’s completely hidden by the oak tree. No one would know it was here.

The boy takes me inside.

Table built from 2x4s. Two wooden crates serve as chairs. Books lay on the leaf-strewn ground. Time and weather have left them faded and moldy. Chip bags. Cookie boxes. Candy wrappers. Animals have long since eaten the snacks.

I see something half-covered with wet leaves. I dig through and grab it.

A red ball.

I look at the boy.

But he’s not there.

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