On the third day after i stopped eating i was laying listless on my cot watching the people around me, moving in and out of consciousness with fluidity. Nothing seemed real anymore and i couldn't really move. It felt like unbearable weights had been attached to my body if i tried to move it. So i lay still, rousing myself only very occasionally for a drink of water. Three men approached me. “She stopped eating three days ago. She's already so far gone another day or two should finish her.” One of them stroked my hair back from my face. “She was a looker at one time. Still not bad. Pretty enough for the movie. And, she has tits. None of the rest of them have tits. Randell will like her.” And so i was finally bought. Not for anything special. Only for my wish to die. I was bought by men who specialized in death.
