Chapter 41

• I stop in front of a mirror. I look like a painted-up hooker. There is nothing beautiful about the way I look. I have on too much makeup and way too revealing clothes. This is ridiculous. I stand in the hall waiting with other people. Men, women, and creatures that I am not sure what they are waiting to have their picture taken for the auction. Every time I pass a mirror, I look at myself. I am disgusted by my appearance. They paint us up like dolls and then buy us to do who knows what to us. Why is this allowed to happen?
• "You look sexy, hybrid," Horace says, smiling at me with his nasty teeth. He makes me sick. I hope someone kills you. 
• I cannot even stand the way he looks at me. He gives me the creeps. No worries, Horace, if I ever get out of this, I will find you and send you far, far away. I will make sure you pay for this someday.