As I pulled myself together while wiping the tears off my face I stood up unwilling, but having no choice but to face the inevitable. As I began examining my bedroom, I began to wonder if there was really anything in there that was even worth bringing into my new life. Certainly, my father had never given me anything of any importance, he paid for my clothing because I was forbidden to get a job, but that was about the extent of the expenses he spent on me. Gazing around the room once more, I spotted four red suitcases leaning against the wall next to my bedroom door. Wondering if those had been there when I came up from the dining room episode, I walked over to the suitcases, bringing two at a time, and placed them open on my dark purple comforter. Gradually I unzipped each suitcase so that all four were left on the bed hanging open, ready for me to place my past into these four cases.
Little by little, I began rummaging through my drawers, packing the very few articles of clothing I possessed. All together, there were four t-shirts, three pairs of jeans, a pair of black dress pants, three pairs of sweat pants, three old t-shirts (which I wear to bed along with the sweat pants), some undergarments, and my favorite, a blue sundress with a big white bow tied around the waist. My father had given this to me when he forced me to attend one of his business luncheons because his partners expressed a desire to meet his family.
In remembrance of the day, I shuddered uncontrollably, while I loved the sundress that was given to me, the memories and the scars, physical and emotional, brought that terrible situation to the forefront of my mind. My body seemed to shut down, kneeing on the floor with the dress spread between my right and left hand, as I entered into a flashback from that dreadful day.
I had been polite and courteous throughout the entire day, from the first introduction to the executives my father was working diligently with, to the actual meal, I like to think I was the perfect daughter. I only spoke when I was spoken to, and I never interrupted my father or any of his adversaries. I sat properly, ate properly, and spoke properly, never once showing my father an ounce of disrespect. However, my good behavior seemed to make the matter at hand worse, because I had not realized my father's true intention of bringing me to that luncheon.
Throughout the meal, I noticed a man stealing glances at me frequently, then looking towards my father with an indescribable look in his eyes. I did not bring attention to the matter due to my position of having the play the part of the "perfect daughter" in order to please my father. However, these looks were beginning to make me feel uncomfortable.
If I remembered correctly, this man's name was Felix Morgan. By the end of lunch, I was on edge in my seat, shifting uncomfortably every time he reallocated his gaze to me. I had breathed a sigh of relief when my father announced that the luncheon was over. As he bid me permission to leave, I hurriedly advanced towards our transportation that would eventually take my father and me home. Had I taken the time to spare a glance back at my father, I probably would have noticed the hushed conversation going on between him and Mr. Felix Morgan.
I waited patiently for my father's return, but as the door opened, I saw it was not my father entering the vehicle, but Mr. Morgan. I looked at him with confusion and fear, but he gave no response to his invasion of the car, he merely took the keys out of his coat pocket, placed them in the ignition, and drove off with me still in the car. I glance back in fear, only to see my father standing by the curb, smirking in my direction. Fear ran through my veins as Felix Morgan speed down the road in a direction I was unfamiliar. I refused to move my gaze from my hands that were placed, in fists, in my lap. I felt the car slow down and come to a stop, but I did not dare look up from my lap.
I heard a soft slam, realizing Mr. Morgan had left the car. However, my relief from hearing his exit was short lived as I soon heard my own door opening. Finally sparing a look, I saw Felix Morgan bending down and reaching across me, undoing my seat belt. As he moved to undo the seatbelt, I felt his hands linger on my waist for a moment before he yanked me from the car and threw me over his shoulder. I was in such a state of shock I could not even fight back, actually I could not even move. From the space my face dangled, between his left arm and side, I was able to make out the sight of a hotel; well actually, it was more of a run down motel. I stared at the door he was headed for; my fear growing far greater, if that was even possible. It was as he entered through the door and through me on the old, rank smelling bed, that I understood what my fate would be for the rest of the day, and something told me that I was not going to enjoy it at all.
After the deed was down, I was lying on the bed, tears silently falling from my eyes. I remember him throwing his own clothes back on, and then roughly putting my own dress back on my body. Then, throwing me over his shoulder once again, he placed me in the car and drove back to the location of the luncheon. That took place only a mere hour ago. He left me sitting in the car as I heard him exit, another person taking his place. I saw out of the corner of my eye, my father, with an evil look in his eye. He looked over to Mr. Morgan, who was still standing next to my father's car window.
"Well, do we have a deal now?" my father asked confidently.
"Indeed we do Mr. Nemes. I had an enjoyable time with your daughter, I thank you for the opportunity, and to thank you, you will have my full support on this business transaction." Felix Morgan replied in a conceited manner.
Realization hit me quickly, he had used my virginity s a bargaining chip for hi business deal. I was far from crying though, my tears were all used up. With the settlement between the two men complete, my father drove off towards our home, where I would spend the next three months locked in my room, refusing to see anyone because of the emotional scarring I was left with from that experience.
As my mind resurfaced from that terrible memory I sat in silence for a moment. While this dress reminded me of that terrible incident I packed it away in one of the suitcases regardless, this is because it was a constant reminder to me that I was my father's prisoner and nothing else.
After I had finished packing my other belongings, which ended up only filling three of the four suitcases I laid down on, my now bare, bed. I glanced at the clock I had left on my nightstand. It was not 9 am, which meant I still had an hour left until my ride would be here. For the next hour I lay on my bed, wondering about my new life with this stranger that went by the name "Mr. Kaiba".