Angel's Weren't Meant To Be Slaves. Welcome To Hell, Master. *Completed*

[09] The Auction House

Edited

[Story Start]

Victoria's P.O.V.

"Ahhiii..." a scratchy old woman's voice said from somewhere in front of me, "I see it is this one again."

Oh great... Helga.

Her name perfectly suits her personality and appearance. She is the most disgusting, wrinkled old woman with horrible teeth that you will ever lay eyes on. How she even managed to acquire the job of cleaning and preparing the auction items is beyond me.

My hair was taken in her old bony fingers and lifted up and away from my face so she could look at me better. I flinched away from her beady, black eyes as they gazed down at me with no emotion. They reminded me of a ravens eyes, the bird most commonly related to death, as they were dark, beady, cold and selfish.

"Good. You've kept her face unmarked this time, Bruce. Tell your men that I thank them for that. It makes my job a lot easier as I don't have to try to conceal them."

The dumb brute grunted in response.

"Just hurry up and get her ready," his deep voice commanded harshly, "You are to make her look as nice as possible. There are some very important people here tonight... Don't forget to clean up her tattoo as well."

He sounded reluctant to say that last part. I think it's because a big part of an angel's beauty is meant to come from their unique wing tattoo. It makes each of us special. To our own kind at least.

Helga gave her own deep raspy grunt in acknowledgement, making her sound sort of like Bruce.

"Very well," her scratchy voice started as she basically threw my head back down on the floor, as I was expecting, "Help me and carry her over to the wash basin..."

As I heard her scurry off I could hear Bruce's heavy footsteps come closer to me and grab me roughly by the Gael collar again. My neck was already sore and I'm sure bruised as well so I couldn't help but cry out, as it was hardly avoidable at this point.

He carried me for maybe 5 large steps. Turning me to face him, he ripped off my sad excuse of a dress and sat me down into the ceramic tub that was big enough for me to sort of sit in.

It all would have been good if the water was at least warm, but it wasn't. It was at that stage where it was just going cold. At least it felt good on all of my cuts and sore muscles.

"That will be all, I'll send for you when it is ready," Helga said and Bruce grunted once more and left the room, closing the door loudly.

I lifted my head slowly to look at her from under my hair. I'm a woman, not an 'it', you wench!"

She sighed, "Good for nothing Neanderthal..." before she turned her attention back towards me.

She clearly noticed the look of anger on my face, "Oh don't look at me like that. We have too much of a history together for you to look at me like that now. It's been 2 years now that I've seen you in and out of this place. At least 17 times, by my count," 19 times, "Just be lucky that I don't call that fat brute back in here to beat you and set you straight again..."

I simply clenched my jaw and looked back down at the water. There was already a light shade of pink swirling around.

The Helga witch came back to my side with a bucket of soapy water and she dumped it over my head. Thankfully it was actually hot.

Without speaking, Helga started to roughly wash at least a weeks worth of dirt, filth and blood out of my black hair and off my skin. And there I sat simply watching the soap turn brown and I sighed, what else is new?