From what she remembers, her brown curls were from her drug- addicted mother. Her father unknown, he could have been one of a thousand men. Life as a commodity started at the age of four. If the state penitentiary had welcomed her mother a couple years sooner she might have had a chance at adoption and a good home.

It was time for the local commodity trade show. Her days of picking vegetables and daily devotional were numbered. The church elders had taken her picture and set her sale price. The caption on the bottom of the flyer stated she was a good reliable worker.

She ran on impulse to stay with the young man.