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==Lamia==

Lamia's eyes were dry now. They tended to evaporate quickly so she never wiped them away. This was it. She was lost, gone from her familiar yard, and now, far away from home. Her little legs fought against the full downward force of a planet. It's massive forces drawing her closer to it's center, but her knees failed to keep her upright. Dropping to the ground she started to cry again, the alley below her felt miles away, but pools of water left over on the oily blacktop was cool and welcome on her exposed shins. She just knew she was going to stain her dress.

Her heart felt as though it was crushed like the grapes from last summer's fair. Stomping on those grapes was fun then, but now she hated it as it gave her a symbol for what was going on. She soon found her hips couldn't take the acceleration of nearly 10 meters a second either and her butt collapsed onto her ankles. Her life felt like it was being crushed out of her. Her throat suddenly hurt making it hard to swallow. Wrapping her arms around her shoulders, she squeezed hard to make sure the rest of her did not fall away, or maybe she just wanted to be held.

"Why do people leave me?" she cried out to whatever god was listening to at the time. There was no answer and with the realization that she was, in fact, alone. She began to sob. Minutes go by before she asks again, still sobbing. "I'm not different then they are. I am the same. So why am I always left behind?". With that, she decided that the gods must not be real after all, which, of course in this time of need, only left her lonelier.

The Earth's sovereignty on objects smaller then it was unrelenting. It took all Lamia could not to just fall right there. She was tired, sobbing always made her sleepy. With a huge yawn she laid her weary body on the nearest discarded cardboard. She folded her arms together and used her small hands as a unified pillow. Camouflaging herself with a trash bag, she asked herself why wouldn't the gods ever sing her to sleep like her... mom.

She suddenly, but silently cried out "Mama.". Her eyes filled with more tears and felt even more alone with the thought of her mom and what had happened. A flash of searing hot memory hit her, and yet again, she was watching her mother get hit with fists and objects over and over until she stopped moving. Her memory was cruel, forcing her to remember the scene. Lamia squeezed her eyes and jaw forcing the memory back, it was her only defense against it. The memory faded slowly, but the pain continued.

Lamia was being attacked by her mind from all sides, from her memories, about her behavior today, what she could have done differently, and what she could do to fix it. She quietly sang the words she longed to hear. Her mouth formed the words of the lullaby her mom would sing to her on sleepless nights and she used the natural tone of her breathing to sing but still staying as quiet as swallow in flight. Her black hair even fell into her mouth but now that she started she could not stop to pull the hair out, the song was the only thread of life she could hang on to.

Lamia was not sure what it meant exactly as it used words from the old word. However, her mom explained long ago it was about an owl watching over her while she slept in a forest. Lamia felt a close affinity towards owls, with their huge eyes, silly head motions, and soothing song. She continued to sing the lullaby over and over until her tears dried and was softly asleep.

Her mother was from old world Japan and had taught her the language, her father was white as far as she could tell but she didn't know much more then that. She normally attributed his ethnicity as American. After all, not many people liked the Americans since the Recovery War and she could easily make fun of them, and by proxy, her dad. This was all while being socially acceptable about it.

Sleeping for her was not a normal thing. She learned this very young when she woke up and parts of her pillow were missing. Her mom had told her there was an ancestor spirit in the night that came to admire her and would never hurt her. She had only experienced the spirit a few times after that, mostly the morning after bad things happened to her. She had fantasized at times that it was her guardian owl, and he would take mom and her away to an eternal forest that did not have problems of her life.

Without warning, pain burst out from her ribs like a trumpeter's fanfare. She was awake instantly and realized that her back was kicked pretty hard. Although the pain died down into a slow rumble quickly, she's still been hit more times over the past day then she has ever been.

"Get the f**k up. What are you, sleeping?" the man that had been doing most of the beating said, nearly oozing with contempt.

"I'm sorry Sensei. Please forgive my laziness." Lamia replied. She got up quickly, glancing down at the cardboard she noticed that parts of of it were gone. She bowed on her knees as if this terrible man was an old world emperor. She had used one of the only old world Japanese words she knew. Her mom used it once to refer to a man that she said she had great respect for. Lamia hoped that if she showed the utmost respect for him he would also respect her, or at least stop hitting her so hard. She dare not glance up at him, she did not want to provoke him any further.

His face drew a short perverted smile. "Heh... I like it when you call me that. Keep it up kid and I might just put a bid in for you myself." He voice was rough, too rough for a natural voice. He must have had some kind of surgery to replace it. He lights a cigarette, doing something deft with the lighter as he puts it away in his pocket, almost a trick. Lamia was amazed he hand't burned himself. He takes a drag that could probably choke a large animal and bends down grabbing Lamia's upper arm near her shoulder.

As she hadn't yet looked up, the grab startled her and she yelped in fright. He grabbed her arm hard enough to break it, or close enough to feel like it. He lead her like she was some kind of marionette. He forced her around like this making her tiptoe all day, and her legs were starting to hurt from it. She had looked earlier when she was in the trunk of that car, and there was a pretty nasty bruise developing on her arm. It served her right though, he had started the day treating her with respect, even touches that could be considered gentle. She had tried to run though, she tried to get away, but ultimately was recaptured. Things were definitely different after that.

He had quickly gotten abusive and mean. It almost looked as if he liked it. Her mouth had bitten off more then it could chew earlier, saying that the man was just a "stupid idiot", which slipped out before she could reign it back in. He stopped the car, and open-hand slapped her so many times she lost count. She was put in the trunk so she didn't get anymore "smart ideas". She only left the trunk to switch cars which happened four times. Anytime she was out in the open they would gag her with an oily rag the found in the second car's trunk, the gag was too small and so consequently to was too tight. Even now, her cheeks still hurt.

She looked at the door that Sensei had just been in and there were a bunch of big men standing in corners, most of them had guns, but all of them were dressed nicely. Lamia looked at them wondering what they were all doing here. The one standing near the door looked at her, none of them looked like they wondered why she was here.

A voice boomed from what looked like the center of the room. Lamia could not see him, his voice was powerful but not overly so. "So gentlemen. Remember what I told you about this one, she's completely brand new, acquired today. Bidding for...". He turned toward Lamia, who was being ushered, no, pushed into the center of the room. There was a table composted of three sections in a half circle configuration. At each table section sat two people, one extremely well dressed younger man speaking into the ear of an older adult. The left and center tables had men as the older person, and the table on the right a woman.

The booming voice was now a whisper in Lamia's ear, "Hello? Wakeup doll. What the f**k is your name kid?".

"Lamia." she whispered back in his ear.

Continuing his sentence, "...bidding on Lamia. Again, I can't stress this enough" his voice took on extra weight, "she is brand new. The bidding on her starts at 200,000 American. Who's the first bidder?" he finishes and looks at the three older people expectantly.

Immediately upon hearing the price, the man on the left makes a head movement upward. Lamia tries to comprehend the situation and fails. Why were they all talking about these incomprehensible amounts of money. She knew the numbers that they were speaking about but had only heard these kinds of amounts of money talked about on the news. Normally those were talking about governments and the amount the President's Coalition Party would make, they were always so proud about how much the party made. Then it smacked her in the face, she remembered last summer's fair, they were selling a calf the same way. Her mom told her that it was just symbolic now though, all real trading of livestock happened on the net. This guy was called the auctioneer and those people were buyers, well, potential buyers. It was like a game, and whoever won got the calf. Wait. That would make her the calf. She suddenly had a really bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. It hit her all at once. Whispering to herself " I am the calf, that guy is auctioneer, and I told him my name."

"We have 200. That's about 33,300,000 in Yen. Can I hear 250?", he says while looking at the other two.

The woman raises a hand and barely understandably through her Chinese accent says, "200,000 Renminbi.".

The auctioneer drew back for a second, "Woah, hear that gentlemen? That's about 400,000 in American Dollars. Do I have a higher bid?".

The man in the center who was the only one who hadn't bid yet for Lamia blurted out, "One point six mil American."

"There it is! How nice of Boss Gio to join in the fun, and might I add, a good start too. Anybody want to take a metaphorical swing at Boss Gio?", the auctioneer's features froze, on his face was written the words "Oops, better not instigate this further.". He continued aloud, "Excuse me, does anyone else want to bid?".

The old man on the left section spoke into the ear of his younger second man. The man shot up and stood up as nearly straight as he could, Lamia would have laughed had this been another time as he looked like a stick. He bent his back at the waist in a bow, this man and his master were definitely Japanese. He spoke while bowing and nearly screamed. Everything about the man had an air of fevered pitch, "My master, Kumicho Daichi Hayashi will commit 1,500,000,000 yen!".

"I was wrong, Master, erm, excuse me." He stopped himself before messing up."Daichi Hayashi the great Kumicho of the Yakuza has bid about 9,000,000 American according to the current market values of the yen. Going once, going twice..." The auctioneer, nearly frothing now, was interrupted by the woman.

"5,000,000 Renminbi."

"We have a bid of 10,000,000 USD Going once..." He is again interrupted, but this time by the sweating, stress-ridden, screaming Japanese stick. Lamia broke for a second and giggled at him.

"My master, Kumicho Daichi Hayashi will commit 2,000,000,000 yen!"

"12,000,000 American. Going once... twice... Sold! To the great Kumicho."