Saving Jasper:

My phone buzzed sitting next to me on the bed.

Clary, please meet me in the chamber, love V.

Oh god, this was going to be awful. Valentine, otherwise know as my father, was having another auction, I hated when he made me go. All I could do was stand by helpless as immoral behavior took place right in front of my eyes, in my own house, and I was forced to watch.

I made my way down the steps to what was once a large wine cellar, now expanded to twice its original size, popularly known as the "chamber" to its guests and inhabitants. One chunk of the room was barred off like a large jail cell, and since the renovation was made, I can not remember a single day that cell has been unoccupied. All this buried underneath our large suburban household.

As always the room was set like an auction room, numerous rows of chairs set up facing a high rise only a foot above the ground, and upon each chair lay a paddle with a number printed on its face. When I glance over to the poor people in the cell my mind can't help but wonder what might become of them, the horrific thoughts sending shivers down my spine and taking the breath from my lungs, causing me to breath in the musty air trapped in the basement.

Only a few "guests" have arrived, whispering among themselves and examining the fresh candidates brought in only this month. My blood chills at the thought of how much I already know of this terrible process. Like, for example, the fact that each of these men took a cab, made the driver stop at the corner, and walked around the back of the house, otherwise every month my father would be getting complaints about the vehicles piled outside our drive, not to mention the suspicion it would raise when not a single noise could be heard from the house.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," rings the voice that is so familiar to me. Valentine stands behind me in his crisp black auctioneer suit, a stark contrast to his white head of hair. "I wish I could have taken you out today, but you know how much work there is on auction day, but I promise that whatever you want to do tomorrow, we can do it." My father was the CEO of an oil company and the head of the auction, meaning that he really did mean whatever I want.

You see, while my father was at work he had his own workers find targets, anyone appealing to the eye and who might go for a lot of money, after his men learned their targets routine, they would strike and capture. My father and the man would then make a deal on how much the worker was to be paid after the next auction for his contribution, my father would then pocket the earnings.

"Thanks dad," I said. I'm still was not happy about being forced to watch innocent people sold to disgusting pigs. I mean, how would my father feel if I were standing in that human cage while fifty year old perverts made agreements about how they would share me if they were the highest bidder. He still made me watch, even after my relentless arguing, hopeful that someday I would change my mind and see the world as he does.

I know why he makes me watch, though. It's because I'm the only one left to take over the business when he retires. My older brother, Jon, had been my father's apprentice when he was here, a blessing and a curse, it meant I was off the hook to go my own way, but it also meant that my brother was just as corrupt as my father. To prove my point I could tell you that my brother used to "test" any woman he found appealing, before putting her out on the market. Now that my brother is in prison, the baton of devil's sidekick has been passed to me…...yay.

Even the name Valentine is corrupt, that is not my father's real name, it's his alias. He says he chose it because the average American person thinks of love when they think of Valentine. That's what my father thinks he's doing, spreading love, when infact he is disgracing the meaning of the word. Based on this alone, people would assume my father is psychotic, and he is, but only in this situation, in every other aspect of life he is the most sound person alive. The way I see it is, everybody has flaws, most people have many but they are small, my father just has one huge flaw, and this was it.

I am shaken back to the present by my father's voice. He no longer stands behind me, he is atop the high rise calling for silence, though it wasn't very loud to begin with. "My dear friends, I believe we have a great bunch for you to select from this evening, each ripe with their own good qualities." It sounds like he's talking about freshly picked bananas rather than people who have just had their life taken from them. I don't know how much more I can bear to hear and the auction hasn't even started yet.

As I lean against the back wall I see people of all ages, races, and genders sold to the highest bidder, each finding out how valuable their life is to somebody else. Some go for thousands, others for only a few hundred. "To finish out our exciting night I have a very special treat for you all tonight." Following my father's words, a man climbs onto the stage carrying chains in his hands, which he ties around the beam above his head, attached to these chains is the most beautiful boy I have ever seen.

It almost feels wrong to call a boy beautiful, but there was no other way to describe him, even scratched up, bruised, and dirty he was gorgeous. He had obviously fought hard, at least that's what the cracked knuckles, bruised eye, and scratched cheeks would tell me.

Before bidding could even start I heard the voice I had last been expecting to hear, my own. "I would like to take him," I said to me own amazement, and according to the looks on everybody else's face, they were just as shocked. It was no secret how against this whole system I am, and at first the "guests" had been worried I would turn them in, but that would also mean turning my father in, which Valentine assured his buyers I would never do.

"Sweetheart, we do not keep what we sell." My father spoke sweetly, almost convincingly, but I knew him too well, I could hear the anger in his voice, only angry at the fact that if I could keep this beautiful boy, he would have to pay the boy's captor with some of his earnings from tonight.

I don't know what it was that drew him to me, I've come to these things for years, only when forced, and seen many attractive young men sold off, but this one was different. Not only was he attractive, with his golden eyes and hair to match, but something else. It took me a moment to realize what that something was, rebellion.

While most who were tied to the rafters looked frightened, and often tear stained, this golden boy stood determined, with his shoulders back and his jaw set. Not in the least bit scared of who he could end up with, or even the whip that leaned against the back wall, only used for severe disobedience.

"You said I could have whatever I wanted for my birthday, consider this my present," I could see my father's jaw clenching and un-clenching even at this distance, until he reluctantly said yes.

I walked forward and grabbed his chains once he was unhooked from the rafters, and drew him to the back with me. "What's your name?" I asked, only to be met with rude remarks.

"You don't care, I'm just your new play thing, until you or your daddy get sick of me."

"You really don't even realize that I just saved you, you don't see how disgusted I am by all of this?" I asked, hoping the sincere-ness in my expression was enough to sway him. "If I really didn't care I would have let you be sold to some sixty year old perv that's into teenage boys. This whole process makes me want to hurl, but I have no power over my father's actions. If it was up to me you would all be home with your families." I saw realization dawn in his eyes as he started to understand I didn't agree with my father's side business. "My name is Clary by the way," This last part coming out softer than the rest.

The surprised look he had on his face was gone in seconds as he said, "My name was Jace."

Author's Note:

This is my first ever fan-fic, so if I could please get some honest reviews, I'd really appreciate it. Thank you for reading.

-Kris