The man in the cell was my Daddy. Every bad thought I'd had about him suddenly sprouted guilty flames and burned into ashes. He was a sick man, and it...was so obvious that even a 10 year old could see his discomfort. His hair was scraggly and unwashed. His face was a bright, bright red, and his eyes looked ... wrong. They looked almost oily, and his pupils were a little too dilated. He coughed hard a few times, into a cloth in his hand, and tried to focus his eyesight on us."Tommy?" Daddy?" I. The auctioneer was talking. In my dream-like state I was hardly aware of the words he spoke. Bids were already being placed. I was a commodity, a thing to be exchanged for money and it appeared that money was prepared to be willingly traded for me.I stood stock still as the auctioneer order my gown removed. I felt the two neat bows on my shoulders slip, and then my gown drifted down my body to gather at my feet as the crowd of onlookers cheered my unveiling. Hands rose in the crowd as the. More

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