His Golden Eyes

I hated taking the bus. It was late, very late and I needed to get home. It was Friday which meant I had piano lessons in an hour. (Not to mention it was 6th of January and -15 outside)

As I nervously paced back and forth with my backpack filled with textbooks and gym clothes, I thought of believable excuses. Knowing Miss. White, she wouldn’t except the “My bus was 15 minutes late”, excuse despite it being true. Unless I was in the hospital or my great Aunt Beatrice just died, she would make me do 100 push-ups. In a row.

As I started biting my nails in anxiety, a loud honk interrupted my thoughts a yellow school bus came rolling in. I’d never been happier. With the rest of my bus mates we jogged to the bus, eager to get home and start our Fridays.

As I boarded, I noticed the sub driver giving us all strange looks and ever so slightly nodding his head. Like he was measuring us up for something. I glanced at his golden brown eyes and choppy black hair one more time before I took my seat, and shuddered off the feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Alright kids let’s get you home. First we need to make a quick stop. Some bus broke down and we have to pick up the kids.” The driver was cheerful, but no one else was.

The other students groaned, me along with them. Our bus was already late and we had to pick up extra kids? I was going to be doing a lot of push ups.

The bus driver drove away from the High School quite fast and pretty soon we were in downtown Thunder Bay, Ontario. I gazed out the window, watching people float in and out of shops, mothers pushing their babies in strollers and hardworking business men talking on phones and holding briefcases.

I spotted a small family of 4 heading down the road and instantly felt jealous. The Mom and Dad were in-between their 2 kids, who I guessed were 8 and 5. The little girls laughed as their parents swung them back and forth never letting go. My own parents had let go a long time ago when they divorced.

My Mom was given full parental rights and my Dad left for the US, never to be heard from again. But sometimes I wished I was with my Dad. It’s not like she’s ever home, being a model and everything. Although people may think having a nanny for the past 10 years is great, it really isn’t. All you want at the end of the day is for your parents.

I was too busy sulking in my thoughts to pay attention to where we were. “Hey driver!” a student in the back yelled.

“Where are we? We’re almost out of the city!” a few others shouted in agreement.

I shook my head of my miserable thoughts and took a good look around. This part of the city didn’t look familiar, and I had an eerie feeling that we shouldn’t be in it.

The building were tall and dark, almost like they wanted to keep out the sunlight. Graffiti was everywhere and there were busted windows and wooden up places everywhere you looked. I wanted to get out of here fast.

Our bus driver kept driving despite the protests and eventually stopped at a busted up building. The driver took off his seat belt and stood in the isle.

“Alright ladies listen up good because I’m only going to say this once.” Something in his voice hinted that if we weren’t quiet, trouble would happen. The entire bus shut-up fast.

“I’m going point to a few people and whoever I do, you are to stand in the isle and wait. The rest of you are to stay in your seat.” he says, looking at all of us with his golden brown eyes.

No one spoke, although I could sense people wanted to. “Alright. You in the back with the red hair. And the girl right beside you. And I want you in the pink sweater too. Don’t you try and hide from me! Just because you cover your face doesn’t mean I can’t see you!” This continued on for a few minutes and half of the bus was standing up in the isle, not really knowing what else to do.

“And you, with the brown hair and purple jacket.” It took me a second to realize he was talking to me.

“Me sir?” I answer quietly.

“No, I mean Madonna. Of course I mean you!” His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

I timidly stand up and head in the isle. Somewhere behind me someone snickers.

“Alright you lot, follow me!” The driver is about to walk off the bus, but none of us move. This couldn’t be legal.

“Why would we go anywhere with you?” the red head snapped behind me.

“I agree with Shelly. I’m calling my Mom to pick me up, this is crazy.” another girl pipes in.

The bus driver swears and glances at his watch. “Well kids, we’ll just have to do this the hard way.” He honks the horn 4 times and a mysterious mist pours of side of the bus. It is thick and we’re all couching, trying to get it out of our lungs.

“Don’t fight it. It will put you asleep within minutes. Those of you who get fresh air in the next 10 minutes will remember what happened. Those exposed to this air for longer will not remember where we went and arrive in your homes like normal. Sweet dreams ladies.”

With legs that felt like jello, I slipped back into my seat, my eyelids getting heavier with each breath.
I barely heard the bus door creak open and saw dark figures boarding the bus, talking in soft voices. I knew I needed to stay up, but I couldn’t. And within seconds I was asleep.



My first thought when I woke up was, “Miss White is totally going to kill me.” But once I took a good look around my surroundings, I knew being late for my piano lessons was the least of my problems.

I was in a large, dark cell with stone walls and no windows. There were handcuffs chained into the walls and a few other girls chained to it, dozing off.

I recognized them from my bus. I glanced upward and saw my own wrists were chained and my skin was being rubbed raw from the coarse texture.

I struggle a bit trying to free them, but it was no use. All I succeeded in doing was rubbing my skin off my bones.

I sigh and wait. There was no use in screaming. Whoever chained me up wasn’t someone I wanted to see soon.

Unfortunately, the girl to me left didn’t think so. As soon as she woke up she let out an ear-piercing scream. “Let me go! There has been some type of mistake! I’m innocent!” She hollered.

The rest of the girls woke up quickly and started pulling on their chains and stomping their feet. I sat there quietly, hoping for them to settle down.

A few minutes past and the girls were still rammed up. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. But before I had the chance to say anything, a metal door that I hadn’t seen before opened and let in streaks of light.

The screaming stopped immediately and the girls were actually shrinking against the wall. I squinted and turned my head until my eyes adjusted.

Once they did I saw two people in their mid-twenties looking over us and talking quietly. One was a woman with a ballerina bun, dark pointed glasses wearing a tan colored business suite.
The other was a muscular looking man with short brown hair and a dark mustache. His whole image screamed bodybuilder.

The lady pointed to a girl on my far right and she was dragged out of the room kicking and screaming by the bodybuilder.

Once the door and slammed shut, the rest of us revealed our fear. Some fainted, others screamed and tried to release, and one poor girl had a smelly puddle around her.

I sat there praying to God that I would make it out of here alive. But deep down I knew it was pointless. Girls who got into this business hardly ever got out. I knew I wasn’t going to be one of the lucky ones who escaped.

I was the last girl in the room since all the others had been dragged out. The man came to me, unclipped me and forced me to walk in front of him and behind the lady.

I kept my head low, but took in my surroundings. The walls were grey stone and there were many cells on the left hand side. I could hear people screaming, begging, and crying. My heart ached for them.

When we had reached out destination, the lady stepped aside and pointed at the door. “Go through. We’ll hopefully never see each other again.” And then she turned and left, the man in tow.

I was very confused, but followed their directions. And I found myself in a large dressing room with make-up tables and expensive looking dresses on racks.

“Oh dear, you’re a mess,” a lady exclaimed behind me. I turn around and looked down at myself. My shoes were torn and my school uniform was covered in dirt. I had no idea what my face looked like, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“Well we have 15 minutes for you to look good. I’ll see what I can do,” the lady muttered mostly to herself. “Well, dear, let’s get you all dolled up!”

Before I could ask for what, I was pushed into a giant shower and told to strip.

Then I was dressed in a beautiful, silky yellow gown and make-up was applied to my face with my hair in a tight ballerina bun that made my head throb.

Afterward I was directed to a room where there was a line of young women standing and waiting in their beautiful gown dresses and hair piled up in tight buns.
Beyond them I could see a large stage and people screaming out numbers.

I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to know where I was. “Excuse me.” I tap the girl in front of me shoulder. “Could you tell me where I am and what is happening?”

When she turned I saw a huge black bruise on her cheek. I gasped in horror. What had happened? She glanced in front of her, and there was only one person left.

“You’re at a slave auction, where’ll you be bought by the highest bidder. Afterwards you must submit to your master’s every wish because if you don’t...” She pointed to her bruise.

My eyes widen in terror. This couldn’t be happening!

It was her turn next. “Good luck hun. Hopefully you’ll make it out alive.” She is disappears through the curtain.

I hear people bidding loudly, calling out numbers fast than horses could run. Soon I hearsold and clapping.

I want to throw up at the thought of being sold to someone. But there is no time. I’m next and a guard pushes me forward.

As I enter the stage, the bright lights make me blink madly and I hardly know where I’m going. A man one stage with a microphone grabs my arm and tugs me towards him.

Once my eyes have adjusted I see that there is a large crowd made up of mostly men staring at me, some undressing me with their eyes.

“This a young girl that we just got in yesterday. She’s 15 years old and still a virgin. She has never been a slave. Who wants to try their luck with this one?” the announcer asked grinning suggestively.

Some men hoot and holler, making me want to crawl up in a hole and die.

“Let’s start the bidding at $2,000.”