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        "Hair length?" A woman asks. Her voice wakes me up from my dream state. I try not to cringe as another female, who I recognize as my new owner, strokes my raven hair. Her hands catch in my tangles, creating an unpleasant sting

        "So beautiful. Just a few inches." The woman holding the scissors dangerously close to my neck looks perplexed.

        "Shorter hair is easier for yard work." I try to adjust to the light, a thin grogginess slipping away with every second.

        "I have slaves of less noble blood for yard work." The woman snips off two inches of my hair. I see a few locks fall to the ground. They look like feathers.  "I didn't buy her for that."

The last thing I see is a long needle in my arm, the same dark silver liquid trapped within it's glass.

        "Welcome to your  home, beautiful," My new owner says, her hair is now loose, falling below her shoulders in tresses. She elderly, but not as old as some I've seen before. 

        "My names Katelyn," I tell her. 

        "You are whoever I tell you to be. Now, come with me." I stand in my place, a growl escapes my lips, surprising us both.  Her hand comes down on my face before I can react. It leaves a red sting mark that ignites a forgotten fire within my belly. The urge to fight

        "Listen, bitch. You are mine now. I should've sent you to a reform camp. Don't make me change my mind." She pulls me by the hair. I follow her, feeling all hopes of freedom slip away. 

        "Xavier," She calls, "Come here. I have a surprise." A man a little older than me appears on the top of the stairs. He stands a full foot taller than me, his dark green eyes piercing. 

        "Who is she?" His voice is as unkind as his mothers.

        "She will be our new slave. I paid a good fee for this one." Xavier walks toward me, and places a smooth hand on my cheek.

      "I don't want her." Join the club, buddy. The woman looks at her son with dismay.

      "She is yours."

        "My wife is coming soon, Angela can deal with her," He calls,  turning to leave. Just yesterday, I could've been his wife. How far I've fallen.

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