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“It’s time,” Sarcos calls.
We are once again placed in a single file line, as if we are back in grade school. This time the chains are absent, not that it matters. Large men flank us on all sides. We aren’t going anywhere other than where they want us to. My body shakes while my mind races, imagining all the possible scenarios that could transpire wherever we’re being led. Before long, Ratilda calls out for us to stop moving.
“All eyes over here,” she commands.
We all turn to look at her.
“Once we step up to the platform, you’ll find the part of the stage marked with your number. Stand tall and still in your designated space. You do not talk. You do not move. Understand?” she demands. We all nod. “Well then. Let the bidding begin,” she says, standing aside and waving her hand in the direction of a set of stairs.
I rip off the bandage for no other reason but to feel pain. Something to keep my mind off of what’s to happen next. Who will bid on me? Where will I go? Will I be beaten? Raped? Murdered? Who knows what awful humans are waiting to buy other humans?
Monsters.
One by one we ascend the stairs, coming out onto a slightly raised stage. The colossal room around us is empty, giving us a clear view of the ominous space before us. “Move,” Ramsey barks behind us.
I stagger my way to my spot, knees wobbling and hands trembling. Feeling helpless, I concentrate on the gold rhinestone-covered monstrosities I’m forced to wear on my feet. They are already causing sores, but that doesn’t matter. Nothing does when you’re being marched to your death. I may not know what’s to come, but one thing’s for sure—it’s not good.
When I’m in place, I take in the muted space. All the seating has been removed, making one large open space in front of the stage. White and grey marble floors spread out as far as I can see. There is not an ounce of color to be seen. Everything is grey and white, making the elaborate and bold gowns we wear the central focus. We’re the only color to be seen. The thought sends chills down my spine.
Men and women wearing black tuxedos roll in carts containing champagne flutes about a fourth of the way full of a dark red liquid. A cart is situated directly under each of us girls.Is this a wine tasting and auction? Disgusting.
“Are we ready?” Ratilda addresses the tuxedo-clad waiters.
They all reply with a stiff yes.
“Wonderful. Let them in, let them in.” She claps her hands. I vow to myself right here, right now, that if I escape, I’m hunting her down and wiping that freaking smile right off her face. My hands clench into fists. I don’t have long to plan that out, as the room begins to fill. The closer the people get, the more peculiar this entire situation seems.
They are all dressed in lavish ball gowns and tuxedos, acting as though they’re attending the event of the season. Cackles and shrieks fill the once empty space as the elegantly dressed meander about the room. Waiters move around the area, offering appetizers and flutes of champagne. Music begins, and couples begin to dance to a string quartet that is set up somewhere out of my line of sight. Nobody has paid us any attention and I pray it stays that way, even if it is a pointless prayer.
I’m horrified to see women partaking in such a vile activity, but quickly I’m reminded that evil doesn’t know gender, color, age, or ethnicity. Their idea of fun is watching a group of young girls paraded around to be sold off to the highest bidder. They are in fact the definition of evil. There will be no help from any of them.
They’re all monsters, with or without the glowing eyes.
Chapter Five
An hour or more must go by as the creatures mill about, chatting, eating, and thoroughly ignoring the six girls on the stage before them. Aren’t we the entire reason they’re here? They haven’t so much as looked our way. The whole thing is strange. Not that human trafficking should be anything other than strange, but this is entirely different than anything I would’ve expected.
It’s frightening as hell as I watch the group couple off and dance. Every one of them is
passing their partners around like it’s a swingers convention and the more time that goes on, the more it feels like just that. The champagne is flowing freely, and with every second these monsters get looser. They grind against their partners a little more as their inhibitions disappear. Hands roam liberally, groping and fondling private parts, and nobody even blinks.
My knees are starting to quake, whether from standing in these heels or from the increasing awkwardness of being a voyeur to an expanding orgy. The weight of the dress I wear is pulling on my shoulders and I do my best to yank it up to hide my cleavage. I don’t want anything to do with what I’m witnessing, and I won’t give them any reason to think otherwise. Who knew ball gowns could be so daunting and so damn provocative? I hate it.
My eyes roam away from the dance floor, landing on Stacey. She stands stoically, her face masking any fear she may be experiencing. Her lavender gown flows to the floor in waves of tulle. She looks sophisticated and beautiful. Her head never moves, and I wonder what she’s thinking.
Suddenly, the music stops and the feedback from a microphone sounds, pulling my attention away from Stacey.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ratilda says into a microphone. “The auction will begin soon. Please take your places.” The partygoers immediately stop what they’re doing and head toward the stage, attention now on us. Everything in me tenses as the reality of what’s about to happen sets in. We were mere decorations a moment ago, but based on the intense gazes of the bidders below, we’re their central focus now. My palms begin to sweat and anxiety builds in my chest. I will myself to take deep breaths.
“The rules are the same as always. You may walk the line, examining the donors from the floor. A sample of each is provided below. Help yourselves tooneglass,” she stresses.
A sample of what?
My mind is fixated on what could be in the flutes and what it has to do with each of us girls. The answer is just out of reach and before I can grasp it, Ratilda’s shrill voice bats it away.
“You’ll have thirty minutes to peruse the fine selection. At exactly midnight, the auction will commence.” The people begin moving even closer to the stage. I slink back just slightly.
If I was scared before, I’m petrified now. My entire body is shaking as the people descend upon us. The first person to stand in front of me is a portly woman wearing a white wig and a black dress. Her gothic guise is intimidating. She looks me over from head to toe, smiling widely. I don’t like how she relishes my body as if I’m dessert. Taking a glass from the cart, she brings it to her nose and inhales deeply. A look of ecstasy transforms her face, and my stomach sours at the thought of her finding anything tied to me appealing. She swirls the liquid in the glass and brings it to her lips, tipping it back and swallowing. For a moment, I don’t breathe as I await her reaction. She scrunches her nose and purses her lips. A promising sign that she didn’t enjoy the wine on my cart. As she swiftly moves on from me, my shoulders relax, relieved that I’ve clearly been given a bad batch. Perhaps this will keep others away from me as well.
