"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." Her voice is hypnotizing, a rich velvet. "My name is Cassidy, and I'm going to be your auctioneer for this afternoon. Welcome to this exclusive event. We have some very special items for bid today. I imagine you’re eager to see what’s been prepared.”
She glances at the far end of the stage.
A little girl with curly blond hair steps forward. She looks to be about ten years old. Her eyes are vacant, like she's a zombie without a soul.
"We'll be starting with this exquisite creature," she says. "Bidding starts at fifty thousand euros."
"Seventy," says a voice from my right.
"Seventy-five," someone else says.
I grit my teeth.
A familiar rage starts in my heart. It spreads to all of me, setting my entire body on fire. I'm going up in flames, but I wear an icy mask on the outside.
I look at the little girl. She's blinking rapidly, like she's trying to hold back tears.
"Oh, it looks like we have some eager bidders already," the auctioneer says.
The bidding continues. Two men go back and forth in a battle of egos.
It's less about the girl and more about who wins.
"One hundred thousand euros," the first bidder exclaims.
A hush falls over the crowd.
"We have one hundred thousand euros," the auctioneer says. "Going once...going twice..."
She pauses for effect.
I glance at the man to my right. He's bald with a mustache and greasy skin. I file his ugly face into my memory.
"Sold," the auctioneer exclaims.
The little girl is in tears. I stare at the ground and make a silent vow to the little girl.
"Grace Thorne," the auctioneer says, introducing the second girl.
I look up at the stage.
My heart skips a beat. My world stops spinning. The rage in my heart simmers down, replaced by a strange sense of peace.
I'm reminded of the Rembrandt painting of the boat in the churning ocean. In it, the disciples were swept away by panic, but Jesus remained calm.
That's how my heart feels right now.
Like it's finally found what it's been searching for.
I can't stop staring at her. The girl has rich brown hair, a soft figure, and skin that appears luminous under the sun, like it's made of thousands of tiny diamonds.
And then she looks up.
There are about a hundred people in the audience, but her eyes find mine. She stares at me the same way I do, like it's hard for her to look away.
"Bidding starts at twenty thousand euros," the auctioneer says.
"Two hundred grand."
