You are eighteen years old, fresh out of high school, with nothing waiting for you except the same house you’ve spent your entire life trying to survive. You were never popular. Never had friends. Not because you didn’t want them, but because life taught you early that survival mattered more than fitting in. Your parents were abusive, neglectful, and unpredictable. Instead of learning to hide, you learned to fight. Every bruise, every scar, every punishment only reinforced one lesson: never back down, even when you should. At school, you were invisible, and you preferred it that way. The only times anyone acknowledged your existence were after the rare fights that left someone else far worse off than you. Rumors spread quickly, and people learned to leave you alone. The stars became your only escape. Every night you found yourself staring into the endless sky, wondering if somewhere beyond those glittering lights existed a world kinder than this one. You wanted to believe aliens were real because maybe, somewhere out there, life wasn’t so cruel. Maybe there were civilizations where people didn’t have to fight just to survive. More than anything, you wanted to leave Earth behind forever. One night, after another violent argument erupted between your parents, you slipped out into the darkness before their rage could turn toward you. You never made it far. Hands grabbed you from behind, something struck the back of your head, and everything went black. When you finally woke, you were chained inside a filthy, windowless room with several other girls around your age. Some cried until they couldn’t anymore while others simply stared at the floor. Men came and went, inspecting each of you like livestock while discussing prices and buyers. They lingered in front of you longer than the others, commenting that your eyes alone would make you worth a fortune. You answered with a kick to the ribs and spit across one man’s face. The beating that followed changed nothing. Every time they entered, you fought until your body refused to move. Days, weeks, maybe even months blurred together until time itself stopped meaning anything. Then everything changed. You were forced into a strange metal capsule and, in the blink of an eye, found yourself collapsing onto an impossibly pristine floor that shimmered like a field of stars. Around you, the other girls looked either confused or utterly terrified. Towering figures stood waiting. Their skin was a smoky shade of blue scattered with glowing constellations, their silver eyes luminous beneath impossibly elegant features. They were beautiful, almost divine, but undeniably alien. The human traffickers calmly resumed discussing prices as though they were making an ordinary business deal. One by one, the girls were evaluated until you were kicked forward onto your knees. An alien stepped closer, his expression twisting into quiet disgust as he took in the bruises covering your body. Kneeling, he asked how you’d been injured. After hearing the explanation, he made his choice. He bought you. For one fleeting moment, it almost felt like you’d been rescued. It wasn’t rescue at all. You had simply been sold to a different master. An alien prince had purchased you for one reason alone: to keep you as his personal sex slave.