Page 46 of Broken Princess
8
Willow
“One hour to go. Hurry up.”
Liz tapped the doorframe with a fingernail before sweeping away in her black robes. I let out a sigh and looked down, knitting my hands on my lap.
“Don’t worry, Willow,” Eva said, flashing me a bright smile as she held up a makeup brush. “I’ll make you look perfect! You’ll be the prettiest girl ever sold here.”
A great wave of sadness and weariness washed over me. I took Eva’s hand and squeezed it tight. “I know you don’t understand this,” I said softly. “But I hope you do one day. I hope someone saves you and shows you what the world is supposed to look like.”
Her brows pulled together in a quizzical expression. “What are you talking about? I know what it looks like.”
I nodded slowly, too tired to argue. “If by some miracle I actually get out of this, I’ll find you and show you the rest of the world that you haven’t seen. Deal?”
She smiled again. “Deal. Now let me fix that cheek.”
My face had bruised after Jamie slapped me multiple times four days ago. Now it had faded to a dull yellow mark on my left cheek. Easily concealable with a bit of makeup. Part of me hoped it couldn’t be hidden, though. I had a twisted idea that the worse I looked up on that stage tonight, the less interested the buyers would be.
The logical side of my mind knew that wasn’t true. The malicious men (and women, possibly) attending the auction wanted me because of who I was, not what I looked like. I could probably go up on that stage covered in mud and they’d still bid obscenely-high amounts for the pleasure of taking me home for torture and humiliation.
Eva carefully dotted silky-smooth makeup on my cheek with a determined look flashing in her eyes. Then she frowned as her soft little fingers trailed down to my neck. “Oh, no. There’s another one here,” she said before letting out a sigh.
I swallowed thickly as I realized what she was talking about. When Jamie first kidnapped me, he injected me with several rounds of sedatives. I hadn’t even realized the needles left a nasty little bruise until Eva pointed it out. Now it seemed glaringly obvious, and the ugly red and purple blotch was all I could see in the mirror.
I looked away, throat closing.
I wished with all my heart that Jamie had stuck me with something else that night. Put me out of my misery and killed me. That would’ve never happened, though. I was worth far more alive than dead.
The price I fetched at auction tonight would fund many more of Liz and the Order’s malevolent schemes against our fellow countrymen, and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t even try to throw myself down the stairs or jump out of a fourth-floor window, because Liz had ensured someone was always with me after she announced that the event had officially been brought forward by three days. She’d even transferred me to a different bedroom with a security camera in the corner, always blinking red to show that I was constantly being monitored.
I closed my eyes and slumped back in the black velvet chair as Eva fussed over the bruise on my neck. Icy fingers of dread clawed at my guts with every shallow, tormented breath I dragged into my lungs, and adrenaline surged through my veins, making my heart hammer like it was trying to escape my chest.
Even though I’d given up on the dream of going home again, the most primal part of my brain was still searching for any sign of escape, or any sign that Logan might’ve come to rescue me after all.
Nothing ever came of it, and deep down, I knew nothing ever would.
The clock on the wall was like the timer on a bomb, each tick dragging me forward, helpless and pathetic. There was no avoiding my fate; no amount of wishful thinking that would turn back time or stop this from happening. I was like an animal sitting in a truck headed for a slaughterhouse.
“Done,” Eva declared a while later, stepping back with a satisfied smile.
I lifted my gaze to the mirror again, and my stomach lurched. Even though my skin looked perfect now, and my eyes and lips had been enhanced with dark shadow and red gloss, I didn’t look beautiful. I looked haunted.
“Try to smile,” Eva said, resting one hand on my shoulder. “Otherwise you’ll look sad, and no one wants to buy a sad girl.”
“If only that were true,” I mumbled.
There was a knock at the door. “Time to go,” a man in a black mask told us when it opened.
Eva clapped her hands together and let out a little squeal. “I’m so excited,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll miss you, but I’m so glad you’re going to a happy new home.”
She looked so earnest that all I could do was offer her a weak smile and a hug. Then I left the room and followed the masked man.
He led me downstairs and through the hall toward the auditorium. Then he directed me around to a side door before pushing me through. His hand stayed on my back as he ushered me toward the backstage area.
The velvet curtains were shut right now, but I could hear faint sounds of laughter and conversation drifting through from the other side as the auditorium filled up. Bile rose in my throat at the thought of all the people joking and chattering away while I waited to be sold.
How could they do this? How could they act like it was normal and acceptable to buy another person? Who the hell did they think they were to try and decide my worth, or anyone else’s? No price-tag should ever be put on a human life.
