Item #7 had been a part of the market once again for just over a week now, though it was not her first time. She had spent as long as she could remember here, though for different reasons. As a small girl, she had been sold as a companion for the children of free citizens, or even bought for the odd manual labors where smaller frames were necessary. That was the last time she remembered having a name that was not a number: Elilah. Given to her by a woman that acted as her mother, whether she truly was or not, until she was finally purchased and the two were separated.
She had been given many numbers before, and she could still remember every one. The last time #7 was here, before being sold to that middle aged man to warm his bed, she had been #12.
She had tended to her previous master’s every desire for three years until he had a fatal heart attack, and his next of kin sold her back to the market as they dolled out the rest of his estate. It was what she had been dreading. While she did have to tend to her master’s carnal needs, she had been fed-well and comfortable. A privilege for any slave, she was well aware. Now, those luxuries had been ripped away, and #7 was left to the mercy of fate once again.