Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or its characters, I am just borrowing the characters because they are the best :)

Chapter 1

Time holds no value. For Santana at least, that is the case.

Time is just a case of repetition. Rinse and repeat. Day after day, Santana is forced to do the same things. Things that took her innocence. Things that she wishes more than anything would go away. Every night she would pray that the next day would be better, she wouldn't have to suffer through whatever her master does to her, whether that be forcing her to do laborious chores, forcing himself onto her, or just using her as a punching bag.

Nothing had changed for the better.

Santana had grown accustomed to the fact that this would be her life. Endless hours of pain, torture, suffering. Nothing would change for her. Nothing ever will.

After all, life was not fair. Santana was the unfortunate product of a master and a slave. She was a mistake. When she was finally of age, she was sold over to her first master. She remembered how she was torn out of her mother's hands, and sold for a measly price.

It was almost as if that was all she was worth. She didn't like being valued at a price. Her mother had told her that Santana was priceless, she was everything, she was going to go on to do great things. Little did Santana know that her mother was just saying that because she didn't want to expose the young brunette to the horror that lies everywhere in the world.

Sometimes her mother would disappear for prolonged periods of time. She would later come to realise that it was either her mother being raped by her father, or her being beaten into submission.

Santana missed her mother. But she wasn't even sure if her mother was still alive. After all, it was not illegal to kill a slave, as a slave is technically property and the master can do whatever they please with it.

Santana had her rather long run of masters, actually, considering her youthful age of seventeen. She had thought that her first one was really bad. He was a man in his mid-twenties, and had taken Santana's innocence when she was only fourteen. While he wasn't so bad as to beat Santana up whenever he felt like it, she still had her fair share of abuse from the man. She was then sold on, and her second master was worse than her first. Her second master bought her for his dad, who had Alzheimer's and was incapable of the simplest jobs. Thankfully, no one forced themselves onto her during her half-year stay there, but she was forced to do mundane, exhausting chores every day and was forced to help the dying man with everything, like helping him shit, feeding food into his mouth, changing his clothes. Needless to say, Santana did not enjoy her time there. When the old man finally died, she was blamed for his death and got a rather heavy beating. She was sold, battered and bruised, to her third master.

She would rather not talk about her third master.

Her fourth one was a man in his late-thirties and treated Santana as a fuck-buddy. There were also other slaves that were in his possession, so it wasn't that bad, because Santana was able to make friends. But unfortunately, if she was caught interacting with any of the other slaves, she would be thrown into the basement and be starved for two days. Sometimes the filthy man would pound into her at night, sometimes in her sleep. It really wasn't a pleasant experience.

Her fifth master was not as bad as her third master, but he was close. He had some weird fetish and would force Santana into kinky roleplays that she did not enjoy at all. The man was sweaty, gross. He was abusive. Before, Santana had only been tortured with bare hands, maybe a bat here or there. But this man went professional with his abuse. He had this knife with a brown and yellow hilt that he kept at his side at all times, and would sometimes use it as Santana's punishment. If Santana screamed, he would cut deeper. In the beginning, Santana would cradle her inch-deep wounds rendering her incapable of sleep at night. About three months in, she had learnt some ways which prevented her from getting treatment from the knife, but it was not entirely effective.

She should've been happy when her fifth master finally got bored of her and sent her to the market. But really, her heart just filled with dread. There was nothing for her in life. She really would try and kill herself, but she could never muster up the courage.

Which brought her to this present moment. The market was bustling with people, both masters and slaves. It was easy to tell which one was which by their attire: the masters were dressed in a plethora of vibrant colours whereas the slaves wore simple, grey or brown robes that were torn and tattered. Santana herself was wearing a brown robe, and her master had put a considerable amount of makeup in various parts of her body to hide her bruises and scars.

She was handed off to the auctioneer a while ago, and now she was waiting in a room behind the stage where she would be presented like a chunk of meat a moment later. Looking around, she could see the other slaves that were about to be sold in the same room as her. Some looked beyond scared: they probably only had a few masters and were very young. If anything, they were probably going to be sold off to their first master. Santana remembered how she felt when she was here for the first time. Her stomach was constantly turning, her palms were clammy and sweaty, and her heartbeat was at an alarming rate. Dragging her eyes across to the other members in the room, she could see some of the older ones. They wore a more stoic expression, almost bored of this whole thing, just wanting to get it over and done with. Some were as old as early-twenties, and they just looked resigned and defeated. Santana wondered if she would be like that then, if she was even alive then. Even though she only had masters that treated her like an object, she still had a glimmer of hope in her heart. She had heard that there were masters that didn't believe in this whole system and only bought slaves to save them from further abuse. Maybe this time was the time where she got sold to the good people. She definitely deserved it, the last three or four years had been absolutely hell for her. She desperately needed a break from all of this.

A part of her also wondered what slaves turned into when they were too old to be sold. That wasn't a problem with her mother when Santana was handed off, because her mother's master just kept her around for chores and the occasional fuck. But what if she wasn't wanted anymore? What would happen, when she had no more value? Would she become a maid? Or worse, would she just be killed off? Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing, upon second thought. It will be the one last suffering to end all suffering.

The sound of the door opening shook Santana out of her thoughts and brought her back to the present. A man in his thirties came in with a briefcase.

Santana nearly rolled her eyes at the sight. She nearly forgot that she had to be drugged. It was a procedure for the auction process that all slaves be drugged to prevent any chance of struggle. It really wasn't necessary. It wasn't like they had any energy to overpower everyone anyway.

Her vision turned slightly hazy as she felt the needle that was pierced into her arm. Her world began to spin a little bit, so she closed her eyes to prevent vertigo that was hurting her head. She felt her body being lifted by her armpits and she felt herself being dragged out of the room and towards the general direction of the stage.

She was sat on a chair as the other people sitting before her were auctioned off one by one. She didn't really pay any attention to this process, since she had heard it so many times. Some were worth more than others. It appeared that the factors that contributed to the price of the slave were 'looks', 'experience', and 'prestige'. Apparently, prestige is built up by a mixture of what past masters thought of them and overall health and stamina. Santana had no idea what ratings her previous masters gave her, but she really didn't care. Maybe it made her feel a little better to know that she was sold at a higher price than the others, but at the end of the day, it didn't matter. It wasn't her money she was spending, and it wasn't money that she was getting either. Whether she be sold for $5 or $50000, it was the same thing.

"Over here, we have a seventeen-year-old brunette, P rating of ninety-two…" the auctioneer's voice drawled as Santana was pushed forward. She squinted at all the light that was on her face, and through the rather blurry fog of her vision, she was able to make out the audience. The audience section was a little dark to see because there was light on Santana's face, but she still raked her eyes over the audience anyway. She couldn't recall the audience being this big, ever. This auction was going to be pretty intense, Santana guessed, as her P rating was quite high so maybe there was going to be some competition. Although those ratings tend to not be accurate as masters give high ratings for hopes of good prices for the slaves.

"Starting price of $1000," the man who Santana learned to be named Schuester announced. Santana saw nearly every auction paddle raise. That did a little bit for her ego, but not much.

"1500 dollars," Schuester continued, and not many paddles went down. "2000. 2500. 3000."

There were still quite a lot of competitors. Santana remembered being sold for just over 1200 dollars for the first time. Her value gradually increased as her rating started to increase, and she was last sold for about eight grand.

"Ten grand," Schuester exclaimed, and there were still about five paddles up. Well, maybe an apparent rating of 92 was really good and was worth a lot.

Filthy rich people.

Just then, someone shouted their own offer.

"I'll take this one for twenty-five grand," he called. "End of auction."

A few gasps could be heard in the auction house.

Even Schuester was stunned for a short while. No one usually did this, especially with a price this high. "O-Okay," he said. "Anyone want to challenge for twenty-five grand?" he asked.

Silence.

"Going once, going twice, sold!" Schuester announced, slamming his gavel. "Congratulations, Mr Fabray!" Scattered applause resonated across the room.

Santana widened her eyes. She was sold to the Fabrays? She had heard a few things about that family, as apparently they had a reputation. They were extremely wealthy, yet extremely mysterious. Among most people, Santana didn't know how they had come to gain such fortune and especially what they did to their slaves. She did hear that no slave that was bought by them had ever made it back into the auction house.

Santana's blood ran cold. This meant that the Fabrays most likely killed the slaves when they were no more use to them. After all, they did not need the money by selling the slaves. The slaves were just a toy to them, disposable, worthless. Maybe twenty-five grand was nothing to them. Santana still had no idea why she was sold for over three times the amount she was sold for last time, however. That had to mean something, right?

But she was almost certain that Mr Fabray would be her last master. Her life was over.

She was guided off the stage by a guard. Now she understood why she was drugged beforehand. If she actually had any energy to resist, she would try her absolute hardest.

Why was life so unfair to her? Why did she have to be born as a slave? What did she do wrong in her past life?

A fair-haired, middle-aged man came over and collected her. His expression was completely blank as he grabbed Santana's right arm with quite a bit of force and started to lead her away.

During the whole car ride away from the auction house, Santana really wanted to cry. Her life was over. This was the end. But since being a slave for so long had toughened her up as she would be beaten up for crying, she didn't. She sat there in the backseat of Mr Fabray's car, motionless, watching the bright blue sky for one last time before she would be confined until the day she dies.

After about half an hour of pure, electric silence, Santana was grabbed by her arm again and was led to the Fabray Estate. She didn't try to resist or fight back. There was no point. She was property now, and Mr Fabray had control over her every move. Her life was over.

The door opened and Mr Fabray used his voice for the first time since he made his bid at the auction house.

"Quinn, look what I got you!"