*This book can now be played on Lure Interactive Game app. Simply download the app on the appstore (for IOS) and search for the title.

Darkness and smoke worked hand-in-hand to conceal her vision. The pungent smell of alcohol clinging to the sweaty skin of drunken old men assaulted her nostrils, and the thunderous sound of winners and losers on the gambling table, threatened to pull the roof of the old, wooden building down.

Several thoughts raced through her mind as her vision fought to adjust to the dim light, and her nose, to the smell; she shouldn't be here. Being here not only posed a danger to her reputation, it posed a danger to her wellbeing if she was caught.

She shook her head, refusing to be frightened by her thoughts. She had already battled with fear the entire day, and throughout her walk to the tavern. She had come this far and couldn't turn back now. She couldn't turn back, not even when common sense told her it was the right thing to do.

Hunching further down to aid her disguise of an old, unattractive woman who was undeserving of the attention of these men, she forced one foot after the other forward, the path of smoke giving way to her body. Her vision began to adjust to the dim light, making it easier to distinguish the furniture from the drunken men. Her eyes swept the room as she walked, bodies pressed against bodies as men drank and gambled, and women offered themselves up like nothing more than a piece of bone to hungry dogs -some of which were now nibbling on the necks of their bones.

Sharon could barely keep a frown from creasing her face as she maneuvered her way through the tavern, her eyes searching for the familiar circular parting of gray hair in the center of her father's head. She looked out for his dirty, blue shirt with the rip on his left sleeve that she had been meaning to mend, but had been unable to get to due to all the other pressing matters she had to attend to; matters such as putting -and keeping- food on their table, keeping the dust off of what was left of the furniture he hadn't gambled away yet, working in the town's supply shop, and most recently, making certain that her father returned home safe every evening.

Her eyes settled on the tear in his shirt in that second, and while his head rested on the table before him, she was certain she had found her father.

Heaving a breath, she readjusted the scarf over her nose in a bid to keep her face hidden. She took measured steps forward, the sound of the heels of her old, worn boots pounding against the wooden floors, ringing in her ears. The closer her legs took her to him, the louder her heart pounded, until she was standing behind him. She ignored the people around the table, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Pa." She whispered, leaning down and nudging him. "Pa-"

"Knocked out cold," A gruff voice drew her attention to the man seated before her father. He was a raggedy thing, with several days' worth of stubble on his face and dirty, dark brown matted hair seated on his head like a rag's doll. The first four buttons of his worn-out green shirt was left undone, leaving his malnourished chest with equally brown hair on display.

Sharon swallowed, tearing her eyes off of him long enough to shake her father -harder this time.

He jerked upright, a snore emanating from him.

"Pa." She shook him again, only releasing his shoulder once he turned to her with red, watery eyes.

"Elle?" He said, recognition lighting up his face.

Sharon shook her head; she was not Elle, her mother. But she could tell just by looking at her father, that he would much rather have his beloved, deceased wife here, than he would her.

"We must go now."

"Ah, but not so fast, you still owe me a thousand dollars, remember?" The man across the table called, forcing her to turn briefly to him, before turning back to her father, annoyed; there was barely a soul in all of Ferndale her father was not indebted to. He was fool enough to gamble everything they were worth away, and fool enough to try to gain them back by gambling things they did not even have, away. He had even fallen as low having to steal from her.

Her hand instinctively shot up to her bare neck, now devoid of the simple gold pendant that once laid comfortably between her collar bones. She was still bitter about losing her mother's pendant, but a part of her understood her father's grief, his deep feeling of helplessness, his anger...

She took hold of his arms and helped him to his feet with great difficulty. Once he was on his wobbly feet, she draped his arm over her shoulders. His arm settled on the edge of her scarf, pulling it down to her shoulders, and leaving her face exposed. Dread immediately settled on her inside.

"My, what do we have here?" Wood scrapped against wood, and Sharon looked up to find the man pushing his chair back, and rising to his feet.

She shuddered, but held on to her father's arm that was around her shoulder. She placed her free arm around his rounded waist, and began stirring him in the direction of the door. His weight was a burden on her frail form, making it almost impossible to raise her head up. Keeping her gaze on the floorboards, she began maneuvering her way through the crowded tavern.

The door came into view, a soft sigh of relief drifting from her lips as she hastened to get to it and out of the dreadful building.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" The voice directly behind her sent a cold shiver down her spine, weakening her knees and slowing her down briefly.

Readjusting her hold on her father, she made to take another step forward only to be forced to a halt by the pair of dirty boots that appeared in her path.

"This man owes me money, and neither of you will leave this place until I am paid."

The weight on her shoulders was suddenly lightened.

Gasping, she raised her eyes just in time to watch the stranger release his hold on her father's collar and shove him to the wooden floors.

Horrified, she fell to her knees beside her father.

"Pa?!" She examined his head, wincing the second her eyes caught a glimpse of the red substance staining his gray hair.

"I will pay you, you bastard!" He cursed, rubbing his bleeding head.

"Now! Right now!"

"How am I supposed to get a bleeding thousand dollars, Jenkins?!"

"Figure it out, George! Neither you, nor her, will leave this place without paying your debt."

Upset, Sharon rose to her feet. Didn't the idiot know her father was worth nothing, before agreeing to gamble with him?! Surely the entire town already knew! It was nobody's fault he was fool enough to be dragged into her father's scheming ways.

"Will you hold us prisoner here in a bar until we, by some stroke of idiocy, start vomiting dollar bills?!" She spat, folding her arms.

He quirked a brow, "pretty," his eyes slowly ran down the length of her, from her head to her ugly gray dress, to her old boots, before coming to settle on her face again. She saw lust settle in his eyes, and instinctively pulled the scarf around her shoulders. "With a big mouth," he took a step that brought him face to face with her. Struggling to keep her feet from stepping back and her limbs from trembling, she arched her back and straightened. "I do not believe in your ability to spit out dollar bills, dolly," he touched her cheek. Swatting his hand off, she glared into his brown eyes.

"At least the good Lord was gracious enough to compensate your lack of good looks with actual common sense."

A smile tugged on the edges of his cracked lips as he inched in closer, the stench of his skin assaulting her nostrils. In that second, Sharon decided she would kick him in the shin if he tried to kiss her. "Really, really big mouth," he whispered, his stinky breath washing over her face. "George!" The sound of his boot connecting with her father's body, reached her. She glanced down in time to find her father groaning and recoiling in pain. "Get up, fool!" He reached down and jerked her father upright.

George barely managed to maintain his footing, but he didn't seem keen on displeasing the younger man before him. He was most likely in his mid thirties, she thought, even if the state of his clothes and body said otherwise; he was certainly younger than he appeared.

"How about I cancel your debt, huh? Act like none of this happened?" He spoke to her father, but his eyes drifted to her.

"Y-yo-you would do that?" He asked.

The stranger nodded, a smile she decided she hated, curving his lips. "I would."

Sharon didn't think she could trust him, but she decided they were without a choice; if he was willing to cancel the debt, so be it. Perhaps she had succeeded in scaring him into surrendering and giving up on his threats? Perhaps he saw the foolishness of holding a broke man to a debt he could never, in a million years, pay?

She forced a smile to her own face in appreciation of the devil himself. "Thank you, kind sir." Turning to her father who stood beside her with a frown on his sweaty face, she nodded. "Let's go."

She had barely taken a step past him when his next words stopped her;

"Oh, not you dolly, you are coming with me."

Sharon felt the blood drain from her face. Turning around so she could stare the monster in the eyes, she said, "What did you say?"

"I am taking you, in exchange for the thousand dollars your father owes me. Fair trade, don't you think?"

Sharon's heart must have stopped pounding, the world must have stopped spinning and time must have stopped ticking, as his words settled in the depths of her soul.

She shook her head in a failed attempt to wake herself up from this nightmare, for surely she was dreaming! Surely there was nobody on earth foolish enough to think it was possible to exchange a human being for money! She was not a mere piece of furniture; she could not be tossed over to the next idiot -could she?

She shook her head yet again; she couldn't! It did not matter how much her father owed the lunatic, he couldn't give her to him! He could not! He did not have the power to!

Still, Sharon knew she was at her father's mercy. She was only a little over seventeen and was still under his roof and authority. He could easily pass her over in marriage...

No -she shook her head. Never! She could never marry the drunk who stood before her! She would die before she marries him. And her father, surely he wouldn't force her!

She turned to him then, her lips falling open at the look in his eyes; helplessness.

"You are not without a choice, Pa." She whispered, taking his hand in hers. "You cannot let him do this."

"Sharon," he shook his head, his gaze falling to the floor boards.

"No!" She released his hand and stepped back. "Never!"

"Sharon,"

"You cannot do this, you cannot gamble me away! You cannot lose me like you have lost everything we ever had!"

Fear clouded her mind even as she spoke. She knew her father had done exactly that; he had lost her in a bet. But what was even worse -she thought, turning around in a failed attempt to run away as strong hands took hold of her shoulders, pulling her back against his chest- was the realization that there was nothing she could do about it.

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