Notes: I can't thank my reviewers enough.  The feedbacks encouraged me a lot, considering that the prologue was lame and all.  *sweatdrop*  For those who are dying to know when our dear Mr. Enigmatic (yes, I do mean Eriol ^^) is coming up, I'm pleased to announce that he'll make his grand appearance in another chapter or so.  And um, more angst.  Yeah.  Long live angst.  What else can you expect from a major angst fan.  XD

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-- Does love mean hope ? --

Chapter One

The following day came just as quickly as the night went.  I woke to the blinding rays of light seeping through the window pane, and grunted in aggravation, squeezing my eyes tight to block the luminosity. 

As far as I was concerned, I didn't plan to get out of bed today.  Nor did I have the mind to do anything but stay in bed.  But the glaring daylight was annoying the hell out of me.  Growling under my breath, I finally tossed the bedsheets aside rather aggressively, got up, and walked over to the window, drew the curtains tighter.  As I was about to fall back into bed, a shrill sound of ringing echoed its way to my ears, apparently, coming from downstairs.

It was my father calling me down to cook him breakfast.  Some things never change.

The next thing, I found myself clearing away the breakfast dishes in the kitchen whilst my father read his morning paper.  It seemed like another typical day, despite the uncanny things that occurred the day before. 

I realized I didn't want to think anymore of that.  Certain things were better left forgotten.

I poured the remnants of my cereal down the sink, and ran the water from the tap.  I began washing the dishes.

My father let out a little cough and said, "Son, Mr. Houston is coming over for a visit this afternoon at two.  I want you to be in your best behavior.  Serve him some of that coffee we have in that jug."  He gestured over at a small white jug on the counter.

"Okay, Dad."

Our visitor arrived right on time. 

Mr. Houston was a forty-something man with a slight weight problem, and he was also a good friend of my father's who often came to visit.  As it was, my father wasn't much of a social butterfly.  I definitely wasn't one either.  I didn't have the chance to make any friends.  I used to have a close friend once, but he moved away a long time ago.  So basically, I'm pretty much a loner.  Though this didn't seem to concern my father.  He never cared much about minor things such as this.

As he'd put it: we have much more important things to deal with.

I guessed he just doesn't how it feels to be lonely.  Not just emotionally, but mentally as well. 

They said that lonely people usually cry.  I don't mean the physical act of crying with the tears rolling down the cheeks and all, but it was more of the agony inside of the heart.  You can't see the pain from the outside, but you would be able to see it in a tormented person's eyes.

I grew up believing that boys shouldn't cry.  I couldn't remember the last time I cried about anything.  The tears just wouldn't start.  Not even when my mother died.

I did my job of pouring the coffee for Mr. Houston, and quietly left him and my father to carry out their conversation. 

"I heard they're having a huge auction at the market presently."

My father's brow quirked at that.  "What're they auctioning?"

A guttural laugh.  "Oh, nothing big."  Mr. Houston waved a hand nonchalantly.  "Just . . . you know, people.  As slaves."

The last word caught my attention as I was making my way out of the living room, and I moved to hide myself behind the entrance to the room. 

I peeped through a little hole in the splinched wall, and saw my father's eyes widening a little and an unfathomable expression stole over his visage, though I couldn't identify if it was one of surprise or interest.  But from the way it looked, I assumed it wasn't a very healthy one. 

"Slaves?" he repeated as if tasting the unfamiliar word he'd just spoken.

"Well, yeah.  Not a bad idea at all if you think about it.  You can make tons of cash just by selling a slave, you know.  The demand for them is high, so the auctioneers are taking this chance to gain profit.  Hardly surprising, you know."

Mr. Houston's constant repetition of the words 'you know' was gradually getting on my nerves.  But at that moment, my mind was too hooked up on the topic of the conversation they were having to contemplate anything else.  I had to admit I didn't like where this was leading to.

"Sounds rather intriguing."

"No doubt it is.  Many people nowadays need some help with housework . . . and of course for private matters . . ."

That left me wondering why I wasn't out the door by now, fleeing for my life.  Damn my immobilized legs.

Apparently, this was new on my father.  One could tell from the perplexed look he was wearing on his face.  "Do you mean they sell young girls as slaves?"

"Naw.  Not only girls.  Boys even.  Children, adolescents, any unfortunate soul who have nobody to care about them."

There was a weird expression on my father's face now.  His forehead wrinkled as if in deep thought.  "Does looks matter?"

"What?"

"The features."

"Oh . . . I should think not.  But of course, sales would be much better for the ones with the facial splendor.   . . . Your son – Syaoran, is it – has got one of those exquisite looks.  Attractive eyes.  Fine features.  Very fine indeed."

I swore my heartbeat stopped for a second when I heard my name being mentioned.  A little warning bell went off in my head, urging me to waste no more time and make an escape. 

To interrupt this bizarre conversation with a racket. 

To do something. 

But my feet were rooted fast to the ground.  I couldn't move.

For that instant, nothing seemed plausible.

~ ~ ~

I was reading a book as an attempt to drown out all thoughts when Father practically barged into my room. 

"On your feet, son.  We're going to the market."

I raised a curious albeit suspicious brow.  "What for?"

He didn't answer, and I immediately knew something was wrong.  But before I could say anything else, he grasped me by the hand and pulled me out the door.

Without any clarification, he drove us to the market with his breaking-down car, and the whole time I spent trying to diminish the panic that kept rising within me.  But it didn't lessen one bit.

The market was filled with swarms of people; it was nearly suffocating just being there.  It was noisy beyond boisterous with all the people shouting aloud how cheap the random items were, and how comfortable it would feel wearing the underwear they have on sale.

We finally came to the slaves auction.  It was my first time seeing an actual auction which featured slavery, and a sense of nausea swept over me when I took in the scene of people dressed in disheveled rags huddling together.  I noticed only a minute later that my father was talking to the auctioneer.  The latter answered an all-too-loud 'Okay, sir!', offered my father something, and the hell I knew what happened after that.  My vision was a blur all of a sudden.  I was only aware of a rough tug on my arm, and a gruff voice saying, "C'mere, kid." 

I should've seen this coming. 

My father.  My very own father was walking away.

Out of my sight.

And most probably . . .

Out of my life.

I tried in vain to wrench my arm out of the auctioneer's aching grip.  I was almost whimpering from despair.  I presumed if I wasn't biting down on my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, I would have been.  I knew it was hopeless.  Nothing could make my father change his mind.  I knew him too well. 

And that didn't make the situation any better. 

Instead, it only made it worse.

I felt as if my whole world had come crashing down upon me.  I was oblivious to my surroundings.  I didn't give a damn about anything.  I just wanted to go home.  And resume the deprived yet peaceful life I'd learnt to accustom myself to.  Even if Mother wasn't around anymore.  

But at that very moment, I wished I hadn't existed at all.

"DAD ! ! ! ! !"

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Notes:  Awful cliffhanger, eh?  Okay, I confess.  I feel terrible for torturing poor Syaoran like this.  But the story has to go on.  That's my crappy excuse, cold as it may sound.  Well, at least I've got rid of his mean father.  We probably won't be seeing anymore of him after this . . . unless he demands to show up again.  O_o  But heck, he was just a pain in the ass anyway.  *kicks the annoying character aside*  ^_^  Um so, how about some feedback, folks?