The Ventura Highway

Prologue

The way cruel Miss. Fagan primed herself like a hen and tripped over her words around the man, made the girl all the more uneasy of him. How cruel did he have to be to make even the devil herself blush?

She was grateful even more so for the bruise.

The man started at the front of the line- a small, mousy girl named Adelaide was the first of the lineup. Though she was well in her twenties, she looked no older than sixteen with her tiny frame. But the man only glanced at her, and kept his steady pace down the lineup.

The girls heart pounded in her chest, she could feel the blood pounding it's fists bloody into her eardrums and she thought they might burst. She gripped her clammy hands into fists, and bowed her chin to her chest wishing more than anything that she had the privilege to close her eyes.

She didn't look, but the mans footsteps clicked against the parlor floor in a smooth, sinister rhythm as though taking his time to toy with the girls anxieties. When the footsteps came to a halt, the girl hoped and prayed that finally he had made his decision. She didn't look up, she could see the polished black shoes standing right before her.

Her heart sank.

A wand was pressed under her chin, gesturing her head up as the tip sank into the soft flesh of her throat. The man was studying her, but she found herself unable to look him in the eye. Again she diverted her attention, this time to the side.

"I thought I gave clear instructions to not touch any of the captives until I made my pick?" The mans voice was deep, and almost pleasant if it didn't have the undertones of threat to an explosive unforgiving temper.

"She's a bit hard to handle, she has a mouth on her- nothing our training won't smooth out, but she had to receive a punishment nonetheless." Miss. Fagan's words were cool, but her face was contorted to that of anxiety.

"I wasn't the one to do it of course, wasn't even there to see it. But what's one bruised savage? It'll clear up with time and she'll be good as new."

The wand still pressed into 108's skin as the man surveyed the bruise on her cheek. She hadn't yet seen it, only just heard how grotesque it looked. She was grateful almost she didn't have the luxury of a mirror.

"Is it broken?"

"N-no, well can't be sure- it'll heal up though, I'm confident in that." Miss. Fagan found the confidence to approach the man, but she still held the timidity of encountering a wild stallion.

"You don't want that one, sir. With all so respect of course- you see she's utterly unmannered, completely disobedient- no good wits to her, not even to help herself." She continued surveying the girls tattered face in disgust.

The man lowered her wand from 108s throat, the girl sighed lightly in relief that Miss. Fagan's disgust in her had rubbed off. She relaxed her chin to its resting position as the man scoffed lightly.

"I'll take her."

108's eyes widened and only now did she look at the man, her hands went cold and her knees felt weak- no, no, no!

"Great Ambassador, with all respect that girl is far more trouble than she's worth- plus, you don't want to be looking at that face for the next few weeks, spare yourself the trouble and-"

"You think I can't handle an unhinged little girl? You dare question my abilities?" He barked in agitation.

"No!" Miss. Fagan's words slipped her lips in a loud horrified tone, as though disgusted at herself for insinuating such a offense. "I just think you deserve better, here how about girl one hundred and twenty-t-"

"Where is 108s papers?" The man cut her off. "I want a challenge."

This seems to brighten Miss. Fagan's mood, this man was about to receive her problem child- what a perfect punishment of such cruelty, she was surprised she hadn't thought to find the glee of it herself. She smirked lightly at 108, who shivered.

"Really, how thoughtful of you." She smiled before nodding at one of the men sitting across the room at the loveseat. One got up, and carried a briefcase to a small desk. He opened it up with a click before shuffling through some papers.

The other girls in the lineup were now looking towards 108 in pure empathy, she could almost feel the heartbreak as the watched for her. Her blood ran cold, but she didn't dare show a reaction for their sake. She didn't want to terrify them even further.

Before the ink on the papers signatures even dried he came back to collect his property. Miss. Fagan was popping a bottle of champagne but evidently the man had no interest.

"Come along." The man ordered 108, but she stood frozen in place. Her feet felt too heavy to use, but the man grabbed her arm and tugged her out of the room.

It was only when the great big door creaked and groaned to a close that she really debated running, or perhaps throwing a big enough fit that the man really brushed her off as too much trouble. But she just walked, like a lamb to the slaughter.

This man owns me.

My actions.

My body.

My thoughts-

He owns me.

I want to die.

It was the first time she had ever thought such a thing and truly meant it, she wanted to die. If someone were to have handed her a letter opener she would have sent it into her stomach and twisted its handle as if spinning her intestines like spaghetti on a fork.

But still she kept walking, each step she felt as if she were to be ill.

They came outside to a buggy parked at the front, the house elf hopped onto the footrest to open the passenger side door to the old fashioned vehicle. She didn't look up to see her captor, even if she could stomach it he wore that disgusting mask.

Her shackled hands reached for the door handle, slightly by habit before the man stopped her.

He held a key up in front of her face, before his black gloves hand gestured for her restrained wrist. Her mind felt foggy as he gently took the chains into his hand and stuck the key into its lock. The twist brought for an utter relief as the restraints loosened over her wrists. He slipped them off and the girl could now see the purple and blue imprint left. She rubbed them lightly as she looked down at her feet.

"Ventura."

Her eyes widened- was she hallucinating? But as she looked up the man remained unmoving- he knew her name.

"You know my..." But she couldn't find herself able to finish. He reached a hand to the back of his head to take off the cloak, exposing the white unmistakable locks. He removed the mask as Ventura's mind fumbled with the prices of the puzzle- it was elementary, but she didn't want to believe it.

But the mask came off, exposing a face she had not seen in three years. It felt like a lifetime ago since the name had slipped past her lips.

"Draco?"