@BeaM His muscles and bones hurt, from being forced in the same position for hours. His knees were pressed up against his chest, and he was shoved in with fifty other people in a cart that was obviously not made for fifty people. Some people were crying, others were screaming, or fighting. But he wasn't. He'd been through this three times in five years. Each master something wrong with him, and sending him back to the human traffickers. He'd become....numb. Completely and totally numb to the cruel way he was treated. 39-A was his name, until his new master named him. He almost wished that he wouldn't be bought again. It was his fourth time up to auction. They weren't going to waste money on him a fifth time, then they'd end it all, and he wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. No more sick men who gave him the creeps whenever they looked at him. No more cruel women who'd beat him for the smallest of mistakes. No more bratty little kids who needed his attention every five seconds. Yeah, the sweet embrace of death sounded better and better everyday. He cursed his father and mother, for their disobedience to the king. But no, it was not them who were punished, but their eleven year old son. He was just a child, but that was his reality. Where were they now? He sometimes wondered. They stopped. Men were yelling out orders and the slaves were taken one by one into a tall marble building. His chains were tugged on roughly, almost causing him to fall on his face. "Move, scum!" The man pulling him screamed pulling harder. "Yes sir." He said quietly, lowering his head in submission. It was easier that way. When one was submissive, then the people who owned him were slightly less likely to hit him, or attack him. The man snarled in annoyance, but didn't say anything more, as he lead the 16 year old behind the curtain where all the others were being kept. He was glad that they allowed him to keep his ratty clothes that time, instead of displaying his body completely for the audience to see.