Born to be a slave

He curved his smooth fingers around my chin and pulled it lightly, attempting to get my attention. As I continued to ignore him, he took a stronger hold of my face.
"I said, look at me!" his voice was more threatening than before.
I opened my blue, teary eyes and finally looked at the boy, who bothered me.
He appeared not older than ten or twelve, with dark brown hair, perfectly combed backwards. His clothing was those of the rich. The white shirt enclosed his neck, a dark, thick, blue jacket covered his slim body keeping it warm, and a black, silky scarf hung loosely over his shoulders.
None of it amazed me, but something halted my gaze, his eyes - almost white, with a hint of purple in them. They looked so bizarre and strange. I had never seen anything like it. My eyes couldn't leave his.