[Incomplete, inspired by/Retelling of biblical story of Joseph]

The rope around my neck won’t kill me, but the nasty scar it’ll leave could ruin me.

With what little slack I have, I lift my bound hands to ease it away for some relief.

I need to focus on surviving. The future isn’t set in stone yet.

The coarse threads bite my palms as I gently tug the rope. Red blisters had formed, popped, and formed again over the course of five days. I have patches of raw skin on my neck and wrists that sting from the chafing of the rope and from the blazing heat of the sun beating down on me.

I squint up at the blinding light.

Growing up on farmland had given me appreciation for the bright sphere in the sky as it was necessary for anything to grow. That’s what father had always taught us, to have gratitude for what gives life. But my current trek in the desert has me questioning how much esteem I actually have for it.

Uncomfortable tingling begins to dot my arms from the angle and pressure of the tight bindings. I drop them like the dead weight they are.

My arms go numb yet again and sweat droplets travel along my clammy skin to plop onto the sand below.

The only saving grace I’ve had from the abuse on my body was that the three men leading me like chattel kept me regularly hydrated with bitter-tasting water. It quenched my thirst and removed the gritty dust that constantly coated my mouth.

I assume they mix in medicinal herbs to keep me from dying on the trek through the desert. Otherwise I would’ve dropped dead long ago.

A living soul has more value than a corpse after all.

“Move faster, girl!” one of the men ahead of me shouts. I can’t tell which, their voices and forms blur in the searing heat of the desert muddling my brain.

The burly man with the eye patch, the one in charge of my rope, yanks me into a quicker pace.

My vision goes black from the bite of the rope as I hustle into a quick pace.

Stumbling for a moment in my blindness, my heart pounds like a war drum as I right myself.

Gasping through the pain, I struggle against the hot sand that shifts underneath me. It’s difficult to stay upright and keep going at the quick pace they demand of me.

The man with the nasally voice begins to laugh at my misery. “Rich girl can’t keep up, can she? She’s in for a treat when she sees what’s coming for her at the markets.”

One-eye remains silent as the other two laugh before we all shift back into silence, each of us focusing on the journey still ahead of us.

They ride in comfort on horses.

I trudge behind.

My chest constricts at the brutal pace, pulling my breath into a wheeze.

Forcing myself to quickly regulate my breathing, I duck my head and keep my eyes on my feet allowing the tension in the rope to guide me.

If I pass out now, they’ll just drag me instead of stopping to allow me rest. I’ll likely end up more battered and bruised if that happens, at best.

At worst…I haven’t allowed myself to consider what liberties they might take if I became unconscious. I had kept an eye open at night, barely allowing myself to fall into deep sleep. Their lewd comments echoed in my head, keeping me semiconscious for hours until my body passed out from exhaustion.

Repressing the shudder that threatens to course through my body, I lock my gaze on the desert floor.

I fought like a lioness when they first bound me. I knew I had better chances at living if I could get away before they captured me and took me to another location.

I had only one moment I could’ve turned the tide when they grabbed hold of me. But I had been blindsided by the betrayal of my brothers. I couldn’t process the cold look in their eyes as they handed me over to these men. My body only shifted into fight mode from pure instinct, but it didn’t pay off in the end.

Tears prick my eyes. The unwanted droplets fall and sizzle on the sand, the first I’ve shed since childhood.

My chances are slim that I can escape and survive whatever fate is ahead of me. But I’ll take those odds.

I march for hours in the dusty haze of the desert.

My gaze stays stuck to my feet in an effort to keep the brittle particles of sand from scratching my corneas and blinding me entirely.

The one-eyed man jerks the rope forcing me to a slow jog to keep up. I groan at the change in pace, my voice raspy from dehydration.

I need a break and soon.

“Quicker, girl! We are almost at Godrana.”

My head pops up at the mention of the infamous city that stands glittering on the edge of the Etril river. It’s a gateway city between bordering kingdoms, a place that governs itself outside their laws and customs.

Father always told us tales of ruthless men and vagabonds who called this city home. He warned us to be cautious if we ever stepped foot in this place of cutthroats.

Scanning the horizon, sparks of light bounce off the edge I can see. The sun reflecting against the glittering gold rooftops that grow larger the closer we come to it.

A tall wall borders Godrana, creating a barrier and single entry point for those journeying by land.

Etril’s blue waters make my mouth salivate at its cool crystal waves that lap in a gentle flow. Galleys and brigs are anchored across the river, close to port. The primary entry for those who travel by water and natural deterrent to those with bad intentions.

The grandeur of the city steals my breath.

As we near the gate of the city, the men bring the horses to a slow pace. My lungs expand comfortably for the first time all day, a small reprieve as I move towards my potential demise.

“Give her some water. Don’t need her gasping like a fish out of water when we get to the markets. It’ll keep folks from wanting to buy her.” The nasally man tells the one-eyed man.

He scowls before bringing his horse to a stop as the other two linger close by. He sorts through his pack for a flask. They only let me sip out of the leather covered one.

Shifting to keep the tension of the rope taut and my body as far away as possible, my eyes shift between the men and the city.

Is there a way to escape?

The third man, the one who always made the worse of the comments, catches my flickering gaze. He narrows his eyes before dismounting and stalking my way.

Flinching at his approach, I curl my shoulders to try to make myself smaller. I pin my eyes to my feet to appear submissive even though my blood is boiling at being so weak.

“What you looking at, girl?” His spittle flies with the venom in his tone.

Remaining silent, I don’t move a muscle.

He pinches my chin and lifts my face up. His gruff appearance makes me want to shut my eyes.

“Better not be thinking about trying anything. Your brothers paid us a generous amount to make sure you made it to Godrana’s slave market.”

My heart stops at the mention of my brothers. The long trek in the desert gave me both ample time and not enough time to process my predicament.

The one-eyed man approaches behind him. “Leave her be. Let’s water her and get inside the city. I’m ready to sell her and get myself an ale and a woman to enjoy.”

The gruff man chuckles darkly, jerking his hand away from before clapping the other man on the back. “Maybe I’ll get a taste before we sell her. Might even raise her price based on how sweet she is.”

“Pay for a professional, you know that’s always better than these traumatized wretches.”

“If she behaves, I’ll keep to myself. Otherwise I’ll have some fun.” He gives me a wide grin before sauntering back to his horse.

One-eye shakes his head before lifting the flask to my lips. “Drink, girl.”

Obeying, my lips open and the cool water soothes my dry throat instantly. I gulp every drop down until the flask is empty.

I curse at the limited supply given to me.

He closes the flask and stands in front of me, a strange expression on his face. Soft almost, but I might be hallucinating given the heat of the day.

Leaning in, he whispers so only I can hear him. “Don’t start trouble and I’ll keep him away from you, girl. I’ll even try to make sure a good master buys you if you behave. Best I can do given the circumstances.”

My jaw swings open. “Why would you do that?” I rasp.

“Your brothers did you dirty. I’m no saint, but even I would never sell my own flesh and blood to the fate they gave you.” He shakes his head as he walks away and mounts his horse.

“Come on, girl! Don’t have all day.” He shouts so the others can hear.

The rope pulls tight, yanking me forward again.

I follow behind the men considering the offer. My chances of freedom become smaller with each foot closer we get to Godrana. The likelihood I end up with a cruel master or in a brothel increases at the same time. Both fates I’d rather avoid.

Death or a chance of life.

It’s really not a hard choice. One of the only ones I still have the autonomy to make.

I cross the threshold of the city and steel my heart despite the unknowns.

As I’m caught in the bustle of the city, I pray that the gods give me a sign that my decision is the right one.