1. Adoption

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Sang

They were always impeccably dressed when they arrived, their expensive loafers marring the wooden floor I'd just polished, the chandelier spilling their shadows across the room, polite conversation following them like a buzzing. They often came alone or in pairs, and some even brought their wives, slender women draped in organza and silks, pearls dripping from their necks. The first Friday of every month a small group of them gathered in the foyer, starting that gold-plated buzzing, an air of excitement tinged with unease at the prospects for today.

It was always the same. Men with too much money looking to spend it on more things they could own. More lives they could control.

My mother hadn't come up with the idea of a pet, of course. Hadn't even been the first Mistress, but she'd set up our home as a training ground as soon as the first case had declared them admissible pertaining to certain laws. Human pets weren't necessarily illegal. It was all she had needed.

When I was ten our small home, now a small mansion, became the Sorenson Academy for Girls, taking in whomever my mother could find. When I was thirteen she started having standards; the prettiest girls she could recruit from their parents, and the others who willingly submitted themselves to her laundry list of rules, trained to become fragile, perfect companions to the rich and powerful. Pretty pieces to look at and play with.

Or so I assumed. I wasn't one of them. Everyday I was reminded why — I was too ugly, worthless, untalented. Her punishments were unforgiving and often, and she tried to shelter me from the other girls that were part of this Academy she had built a sterling reputation for. A lucrative business that was known for producing the best pets. Everyday I longed to escape, but I couldn't leave the youngest ones to her abuse. I'd been trying to save, coins left here and there, but I barely had enough for a week. Until I had more, I would make every room shine like the ridiculously large diamond my mother was wearing tonight.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she intoned, her voice a practiced husk, her makeup a mask. "Welcome to Sorenson Academy," she continued, launching into her canned speech. "All of my pets are waiting for you." It was her hook, and it worked. She usually had one of the more obedient girls on hand as a preview, and tonight it was Mallory, her red curls tamed on top of her head, her porcelain skin on display in the tiny jade green shift dress. All of them were wearing those tonight in varying colors.

My mother turned and I fell back behind the column, hoping she hadn't seen me. I wasn't allowed to be on the floor on Adoption Day. Ever since one of her illustrious invitees had seen me six months ago and took too much notice of the help. Her words.

But I didn't mind. As horrid as her punishments were, and as badly as I dreamed of escape, I imagined that being bought and sold to one of those men was far worse. I'd clean a thousand floors a thousand times, endure the worst of her punishments every day before I let that happen. Her hatred of me was the only thing keeping me safe from them.

The pack of suits and jewel toned gowns floated past, one of the men hanging back to try and talk to Mallory, who wasn't a favorite of my mother's without reason. She blushed on cue and extended a lace gloved hand, wrapping it around the man's forearm as she escorted him toward the hall where the potential pets were on display. The whole thing was abhorrent.

And there was nothing I could do except try and help them as best as I could, which was why I started risking myself on Adoption Day like this, after hearing that security didn't always protect the girls from these old and new money monsters.

When the coast was clear I ducked out from behind the column, moving quickly and quietly out of the main room, a chorus of polite chuckles following the next joke she always told.

And of course, they're house trained!

I needed to escape this place. I knew a couple other girls, girls that were too young, whose parents had sold them to her Academy, hoping for a cut of whatever my mother made from their daughters. Those girls wanted to escape too, but were too afraid of my mother, and I knew why. I swallowed thickly, remembering the vile concoction she'd forced down my throat last week for daring to intervene during one of her 'disobedience lessons'.

"Remember girls, your families are counting on you," she liked to say, a ploy to keep the ones whose parents supposedly needed the money in line, but it was only another lie. Their parents already made quite a bit of money after letting their daughters be recruited.

I wasn't sure if they agreed, but I'd tried to tell the girls you don't need family like that. You can choose your family — they can't control your heart.

And long ago I'd decided the Mistress wasn't my mother. She was simply the woman who owned me — for now.

I heard a noise then and I pressed myself against the wall, trying to stay out of sight. Low conversation filtered toward me and I slowed my breathing, feeling the stillness in the air, trying to pinpoint where they were.

The murmuring continued, seeming to stay in place, and I risked a glance around the corner. Two men in black suits were talking out of the sides of their mouths, and the conversation looked heated. Were they arguing?

"We can't save them all, Sean," the one with dark hair said, exasperated. Save? A tiny drop of hope blossomed in my stomach as I desperately tried to hear what they were saying. Had someone finally come to help?

"Four?" the one with blonde curls countered.

The man with dark hair turned slightly, and I could see his profile more clearly, a strong jaw, high cheekbones, black square-framed glasses making him look even more distinguished. He looked like the type who would own a pet, but was he the type to save one of them? Buy their freedom?

"Sean—" he started, and when he looked up, I knew he'd seen me.

And I'd never ran so fast in my life.

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