Page 110 of Ruthless Chaos

She can’t be serious, can she?

Liz and Cassidy are thrilled by our reactions, it seems, for they share a laugh between them. Cassidy’s grip on Elena turns violent, and she gathers the girl’s hair in her hand to arch her face toward her.

Cassidy leans down, grinning. “Yes, you three are the only virgins we have here, and we can’t have that. Hemlock doesn’t induct virgins unless they’re betrothed.”

How the hell do they even know that I am—

Was it Tara? No, she wouldn’t.

Would she?

My eyes start to burn. I’m not sure.

“So, instead of fixing the problem with a broomstick,” Liz pauses for dramatic effect, and my heart’s beating so hard I feel it on my tongue. “We chose to auction it. It was Cassidy’s brilliant idea, and we might just make it a yearly thing.”

Cassidy’s idea.

She looks pleased with herself. I want to puke.

Apparently, Elena isn’t as defeated as I am.

“Why do we need to lose our virginity?” she contests.

Even in Cassidy’s vice grip, she’s defiant. I admire her strength.

“Because the man a woman loses her virginity to controls her,” Cassidy says. There’s an odd bitterness to her tone. “It’s better for it not to be an emotional affair.”

I can’t keep the emotions down any longer and throw up on the floor beside me, but only bile comes out. Liz kicks me in the torso. I fall over in my own spit.

“That’s fucking filthy, mongrel,” she says. “You’d better not do that after we’ve sold you.”

Liz’s eyes skate over my body. I see them linger on my thighs. She whispers something to Cassidy, and the two of them look at me and snicker.

I straighten, pain blossoming from my side.

As screwed up as it is, the pain helps me focus through the haze of thoughts racing in my mind. I don’t want to be here. Of everything I’ve had to endure at this school, I don’t think I can endure this.

This will break me.

I ball my fists, gathering the courage to speak, to stand up for myself, but Cassidy speaks first. My resolve dies in my throat, and I fall into a vat of helplessness.

“Be on your best behavior,” she says with a smile.

At that moment, six more people enter the room from a side door—they’re dressed in black overalls and combat boots with balaclavas covering their faces. They grab our arms and drag us out onto the stage.

There are spotlights pointing at the stage, which stop me from being able to see out into the audience. The room is small though, I can tell from the windows on either side of the platform. We’re forced to stand, and Cassidy appears at the podium beside us.

I will myself into dissociation.

I focus on my breathing, the way the creaky wooden floor feels on my bare feet, the way my hair tickles my bare shoulders, the ice spreading over my skin.

I have control of those little things.

It works for a while, until a bark of laughter from the audience pierces my trance.

“We’ll start the bidding with our most abnormal specimen,” Cassidy says into the microphone. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that will stop the tears from falling. “Allie Clarke is eighteen, five feet, four inches tall and breaks the scale at one hundred and fifty pounds. She isn’t much to look at but grabbing on to those love handles will make for a smoother ride, if you so desire.” There’s a cat call from the audience. “For one night, you can relive the good old days, and buy your own mulatto bitch.”

“We’ll start the bidding at $100.”