Most days he would be made to line up like a criminal and see if we suited the vampires -Who was gathered in front of us.- fancy. They would be made to stand shortest to tallest on a wooden platform while the Homemaster shouted out to people below about us. Sizing us up like property, then again, to vampires we, humans in general are property. Property to use or abuse as they wish. 

But what depressed him the most was day after day, just hearing his life summed up in a few words, words repeated so many times before it was burned into his mind. "Next up, we have the boy here, Half-Vampire you know, so he's better at labour than you think, Family dead so no attachment there..." The first time he heard that part. He had started to curse and struggle until someone silenced him, and he awoke in this room later with a shining black eye. The next time he heard the rest. "...Bloods taste is strong but not filling, but surely he inherited some healing off his daddy. Come on, who wants to buy him." The housemaster's smile disappeared as not a single offer came. At that time he has been relieved, but now he knew. Produce that did not sell was bad, and bad produce was destroyed.