This lady looks like a crow. Her black hair is piled on top of her head like a rat’s nest, and her nose looks like a triangle that got glued to her face. Her lips are as red as blood, and too small to be normal, especially with her giant head. She smells like she walked through a dumpster on the way here. If she decides to buy me, I am going to need a pair of nose plugs.
“Speak,” she says, in a voice that sounds slightly British and very haughty.
“Welcome to Wal-Mart,” I begin with a fake brightness, “where you will find a wide selection of children between the ages of 12 and 18 who are forced to rent themselves out to old creepers like you because if they don’t, their families will die of starvation.”
“Well, someone is a little bit snarky. I’m sure the manager would love to hear about this.” I frown, pretending to be afraid of the acne-ridden 22-year-old that’s in charge of the store while his father, the real boss and the owner of Wal-Mart, is traveling.
“My apologies Ma’am. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Crack! I wince as the crow’s perfectly manicured hand makes contact with my face, slamming me into the wall of the metal shelf I am standing on.

“Do not speak unless I tell you to, understood?” I nod my head softly.

“Now, how many languages do you know?”

“Je parle francais. Yo hablo español. Wo de ming si jaio Izzy.”

“Impressive,” she says, scribbling something down in her notebook, “state your traits.”

“Name: Isabella McKenzie Lee. Nicknames: Bella, Bella-bug, Kenzie, Lee-bear. Age: 16. Date of Birth: January 12, 2022. Hometown: Portland, Oregon.” The crow nods in approval, writing the information down as I give it to her.

“Any past or current relationships?” I look at my feet, unwilling to answer. If I say ‘yes’, she surely won’t buy me, and I will have no way to care for my family. If I say no though, the consequences may be worse.

No matter how much I hate having to be an old ladies slave, it pays well. My parents haven’t been able to support my four younger siblings and I since the government cut their lab’s funding two years ago. Our already ramshackle house began falling apart, and after awhile I was able to count every single rib on each of my siblings’ chests. The economy had crashed big time, and most people were cut off. Businesses became smaller so that owners only had to hire one or two workers, and it became nearly impossible to find a job. Half of the population is now living in poverty, unable to make any money and unable to provide for their families. The other half has more money than any one person needs, but has nothing to spend it on.
David Dacius, the richest of the rich and the owner of Wal-Mart, made the generous decision to allow children to move into one of his 73 stores and be rented off to lonely millionaires. Customers receive a minimum of one week with a child of their choice. They can keep the child for longer, but it costs extra. While the customer has the child, they can do anything that want with it. Usually, they use us as their personal slaves.
Every child who comes to Wal-Mart for a job must sign a contract saying they will work until they turn 18, or until they pay a $3,000 fine. Paying the fine is impossible when all of our money is being sent to our families, so most of us are stuck here.

“Deary, I don’t have all day. I have a bunko meeting in an hour. Can we hurry this up?” I sigh, and prepare myself for another rejection.

“Yes ma’am, my apologies. I- I am currently in a relationship with another worker. Her name is-”

“Her?” the crow asks, her eyes narrowing to little slits, “Oh, so your one of those people.”

“Yes,” I say, desperation seeping into my voice. If I lose this customer’s attention, my pay will be cut in half. I hadn’t been able to get a job in over a month. Mr. Dacius already cut my pay once, and I am not sure my family would survive if he cut it again. Though I have no idea how much my money is helping them, I haven’t receive a single letter since I started working here, I still hold onto the small string of hope that the money is helping.
“But I promise, I am still a good worker and… don’t leave!” Without thinking, I grab the crow’s arm. All I wanted to do was explain myself, but it soon becomes obvious that I made the wrong decision.

“Security!” she shrieks, her voice high pitched and squeaky, “get this rat off of me!” I back away as the two burly guards rush at me.

“I- I’m sorry!” I say in desperation as they come closer, bats in hand.

“I was just trying to explain something to her and-”
Thwack! The first hit sends me to the floor, my head reeling.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! My vision is getting spotty. I feel nauseous, like I have the flu. A crowd has begun to form at this point. I recognize some of my fellow workers and a few of the customers who watch as I am beaten to death. I know I am going to die. There is no way around it: these guards are going to kill me.
“Stop!” shots a familiar voice, “You’re killing her.” The guards, not wanting to face the wrath of Mr. Dacius for killing one of his workers, back off. Someone crouches in front of me and wipes the blood off my eyes softly. As my vision focuses, I see long, wavy brown hair that I know from experience is softer than a puppy dog’s fur. Sharp grey eyes glance at me worriedly, framed by a tan face.
“L-Laney?” I say it like it’s a question, though I know exactly who she is. I have been dating her for the past three months after all.
“Hey Buggy,” she whispers softly before turning her attention to the crowd. “Can someone help me get her to the bed chambers?” Immediately, two workers who have got to be at least my age, if not older, step forward. One of them picks me up, sending jolts of pain through my entire body. The other creates a path in the crowd wide enough for us to get through. We head to the back of the store, through the ‘employees only’ doors, past the storage and break rooms, and into the bedchambers. The bedchambers are three rooms in the very back of the store where all of the workers sleep. We each get our own bed, and though it is small, it is more than some of us had hoped for when signing up for this job.
“Push those two together.” Laney demands, pointing to our two beds. The boy not holding me obeys, pushing our beds towards each other until they form one giant bed.
“Set her down here.” I cry out when my back hits the bed, and Laney glares at the two boys like its their fault I’m hurt. As soon as they’re sure their presence is no longer needed, they run out of the room.
“Y-you didn’t have to do that,” I say, scolding Laney for her unusually poor behavior.
“Yes, actually, I did. They were making it worse.”
“S’not their fault.”
“No, I guess it isn’t. I’ve called the doctor. He should be here any moment now.” She strokes my hair softly, brushing my bangs out of my eyes.
Someone knocks on the door loudly before letting themself in. The doctor Laney called is an older man, maybe in his 60s, with grey hair and wrinkles surrounding his mouth. He carries a giant black bag with the medical insignia printed on the front of it.
“Hello Darling,” he says softly, setting his bag down at the edge of the bed, “I heard there’s been a little accident?” Laney scoffs at the word ‘accident,’ but nods her head.
“Can you sit up?” he asks me, pulling a flash light out of his bag. I try to push myself into an up right position, but a wave of nausea overwhelms me and sends me crashing back into the pillows.
“That would be a no.” He shines a flashlight in my eyes, and I wince as a headache blooms behind my brow.
“Definitely a concussion, and I think there is some damage to the frontal lobe” he murmurs, writing it down on his clipboard, “and that cuts going to need stitches.
This process continues for over an hour. He exams each region of my body and mends it with skilled hands. Soon enough, I am bandaged up like a mummy and ready to sleep.
“That should be it,” he announces finally, packing up all of his tools, “I don’t want you to leave this bed for at least a week, probably more. I’ve prescribed some medication that should help with the pain, and it needs to be taken every 12 hours exactly. If you start throwing up blood, I want you to come down to my office immediately, address is written on this sheet.” He hands Laney a sheet of paper with his name and address on it. “Other than that, there is nothing I can do for you.”
“Thank you Doctor Raymond.” Laney says, standing up to escort him to the door.
Finally, I think I can sleep. I am almost completely gone when Laney comes back to the bed, sitting down next to me, but I wake up enough to curl into her side.
“That’s it. We’re leaving.”
“No,” I protest, “I-i don’t have e-enough money yet.”
“I do. I have enough for both of us!”
“No. I-I’ve got to e-earn it.”
“I don’t care about your stupid pride, Bella. I am not going to sit by and watch you die over a stupid job.”
“T-this was a o-one time thing.”
“A one time thing that almost killed you! Bella, listen to yourself. You can’t even speak. You’ve thrown up three times in the past hour, your leg is busted, and you’re covered in bruises. You’re lucky to be alive. Face it: you’re not going to be able to work any more, no matter how much you want to.”
“B-but my f-family.”
“-is dead. They died two years ago. You know that. Why are you pretending their not?”
“What are you talking about? My family is alive, yours is dead.” Her eyes widen in surprise, and she starts speaking slowly.

“No Bella, your family died two years ago. I was the one who gave the death certificate to Mr. Dacius to give to you.”

“What certificate? What are you talking about?” Tears fill my eyes and my mind begins racing.

“Oh, baby,” she says, wrapping her arms around me softly, “you never got the certificate, did you?”

“N-no, I didn’t. W-what h-happened?”

“Gas leak,” she whisper, “it was completely painless.”

“Y-your sure they’re gone?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m so, so sorry sweetie. I thought you knew.” I didn’t know, and that made me angry.

“Mr. Dacius k-kept it f-from me. H-he k-knew I w-would q-quit when I r-realized they were g-gone.” I cry out, shaking with fury.

“Calm down,” Laney says, placing her hand on my back and rubbing circles into it, “you’re going to make yourself sick.” I knew that, but I didn’t care.

“H-he lied to me! I h-had a r-right to know! T-they were my f-family!”

“I know, but getting angry with him won’t help anything. It will only get you hurt more than you were today. Let’s get out of here. I can pay our fines and we’ll leave.”

“I w-want to g-go now.” I say, trying and failing to sit up again.

“Ok, calm down Bella-bug. You need to rest some. Go to sleep, and I’ll take care of things.” She sits with me, stroking my hair until my eyes shut. I doze lightly for a few hours, but never really fell asleep. Without Laney there to keep me company, the pain starts to become the main focus of my attention.

“Bella?” Laney says, waking me up from my third nap, “ready to go?” A tall, dark figure is behind her, and I stare at him.

“This is Doctor Raymond, he’s the one who healed you earlier. He offered to let us stay with him while you’re healing.” I nod my head lightly, feeling exhausted again. Doctor Raymond picks me up, still wrapped in Laney’s blanket, and waits for Laney to grab the two duffle bags she has packed.

“Let’s go,” she says, leading the way out the back door. The guards recognize her, but don’t try and fight us as we pass them. Laney leads us to a car parked on the side of the rode and slides into the back.

“Alright ladies,” Doctor Raymond says after I’m settled in the back with my head on Laney’s lap, “better get comfortable, we’ve got a long ride.”
I can feel my eyes drooping, and I know Laney’s are as well

“You know I love you, right Bella?” she asks, just as I am about to fall asleep.

“Yeah” I reply

“That’s good.”
Then, we are both out.