My Immortal (H.S.)

Chapter 3

Harry's P.O.V.

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I sigh heavily for the fifth time since I've been in the ballroom. This is boring as fuck. There is practically nothing to do here except wait and consume alcohol in the booths.

My head begins to pound by the irritatingly squeaky screech of the microphone being tested. The hostess of the ball stands in the middle of the stairs. I'm even more tempted to just turn and leave this shitty ballroom. It's just to extravagant for my liking.

"Lady's and gentlemen, I'd like to present to you, The 2020's auctioning ball!"

The slaves begin to walk down on both sides of the twin stairs, smiling. As if they didn't know they were going to die In less than a week. I somehow pity them for what they've gone through, and now this.

Everyone begins to clap and cheer. I just cross my arms and count as each girl comes down the stairs. All with a caked up face and an dull smile.

..46...47.....48......49....Wait, they said there'd be 50 slaves. where's they last one?

Guess they just decided to not sell her.... just yet.

"Here are the girls that will be sold tonight, all fifty.... I mean forty-nine of them."

Everyone seems to notice the missing slave, as they look at one another with confusion on their faces.

" But, the show mu-" Suddenly the door opens and everyones heads turn to the two big wooden doors being opened. I look at the direction where everyone was looking at. And I have to look twice to take every single detail of the sight.

Her hair was a rich shade of mahagony. It flowed in shiny curls to adorn her delicate, glowing, porcelain-like skin. Her eyes, framed by long lashes, were a bright, gray- blue, and seemed to brighten the world. A straight nose, high cheekbones, full lips, the soft color of soft pink - she seemed the picture of perfection. Her captivating, beauty. She was no compare to any other girl I've ever met or saw. She was... different. Who is she?

Why am I saying all these things about a girl I havent even talked to, nor even met?

My thoughts are brushed away when I come back to reality. This girl in front of me, I wonder where she came from? and if she was invited to the party? She must have been invited here. She can't possibly be-
My thoughts are then answered when I see her walk towards the file of slaves sitting on the stage, and sit in the back. Avoiding eye contact from anyone she passed.

What! she is a slave?

I need to stop thinking about her. But why can't I? I thought.

The hostess continues to talk about what will happen tonight. I really didn't pay attention to anything he said. For I was too captivated by her beauty. I kept watching her every nervous gesture.

Once the hostess got off the stage, after setting the rules that were to make no more physical contact with any of the slaves than to dance. But any other physical contact with any of the slaves is forbidden. They say it is but, that doesn't stop me from "messing around".

Just when I think of it. A blonde walks up to me. Blocking my perfect view of the girl. She's wearing a short black strapless dress, with the cleavage way too low for my liking, black stilettos, which she could barely walk in, and a caked up face. Make that a smeared caked up face.

"Hey, names Victoria." she said with a smirk, as her eyes grazed over my body. She's drunk. I could tell be the way her breath smelled like alcohol. It reeked, she reeked of it.