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“I told her none for now, you’re welcome” he adjusts in his seat and I shrink.
A joke? Is he making jokes with me?
“That dress looks good on you,” he adds.
A compliment.
Not quite.
This is where he adds but he’d rather I sit naked and then makes me take it off. If he says that, I won’t waste one second. I understand that language. What I don’t understand is this language. He is not speaking the language I know.
I shrink, folding to my default position of keeping my upper body bowed.
The language of a slave and master.
“We are here,” he gives the information, not minding that I have not been chatty. He sounds like I’ve been great company to have around.
Is he testing me? Will he prick my skin with needles for not chatting with him and indulging his jokes? Should I laugh? Is it too late to laugh? How many minutes ago was that joke?
I suck in the air, readying myself to laugh. I no longer know how to, but for my master’s sake, I’ll try. Anything to keep his brutality away and stall the inevitable for a few days. Or I can faint again and have him give me more water and sugar. I make a mental note to faint when I need water and sugar.
I see a tinted glass gate spread open after a red sensory light scans the car. The car swerves into a sloppy hyacinth-lined driveway, past intimidating lights that’ll highlight every cut and spot on your skin.
We are really here.
My future. The one chosen for me again by traffickers and buyers. It scares me. It scares me that my life is about to take an unknown turn again. The night it did in Naples, I wasn’t expecting it. Not in my wildest nightmare would I have expected that I’d open my eyes and come face to face with this new horrific world.
I look around, taking in the extraordinary skill reflected in the building.
At least I get to see the outside of my new prison. And though I’ve always loved brick buildings, this tall glass house is astoundingly beautiful. A faint whisper to play my favorite game when I get close enough to touch it echoes in my head but I smack the alienated suggestion out.
This is a prison, my prison. This is not a place to play games or bring back the feeling of what could have been if I had stayed in my dorm that night. This is a place to regret simple decisions that wreak havoc.
I look around me. What if I try to run? I might be able to make it out alive and find my life again. I might go back to search for remnants of the life that was snatched from me. I might be ableto make something for myself. But as I look at the glass gate and see that from inside the outside is crystal clear, I give up. How would I ever even make it to the gate? I could never. This is my fate now. Sealed with the gate closed in place.
The car pulls into a private parking lot and the ignition is turned off. So is my desire and will to take flight. There’s no escape here. There’s no way out. This is my life now.
Master Claudio steps out of the car and rounds the corner to hold the door for me. Such queenly treatment for someone who will serve as his doormat…
I put one frail leg in front of the other on rocky tiled ground and step out of the car holding my empty bottle of water. It represents kindness, the first I’ve received in years. I want to hold on to it no matter how quickly it ends.
“This way,” he gestures toward the intimidating building in front of us. So tall. Towering. Frightening. And beautiful.
Cream and brown line the sides of the house, with a large cream and white sitting area, and a mini pool by the side that is shimmering with silver hues from the white light above it.
Master Claudio leads me to an elevator and uses a code to grant us access.
The box stifles with musk and the sound of my bottle crumpling as my fingers tighten around it, brings his attention to me. Ibow my head immediately, throwing myself to that place of nothingness as I wait for the first strike. He has shown me kindness and I keep tugging at the thread of his patience. I keep testing him, not intentionally but it seems I’ve forgotten everything I’ve ever been taught during the drive to my new prison alone.
No hit.
The dinging sound of the buttons linger as a warning note in my head as the box jerks smoothly into motion. I keep my eyes on his black dress shoes and hug my empty bottle of water. It doesn’t matter if he hits me this night. This kindness that I’ve found after years is worth relishing.
I sway forward as the box stops and the door opens.
“Come now,” he beckons and I fall in line beside him as he walks into the gold-lit apartment.
Barefoot on brown marble tiles, with long beautiful masculine toes, a man greets us from across the room. I don’t need to lift my head. The charge in the air is different. It reeks of dominance and power. It sprinkles anxiousness into my stomach again and snakes to my spine, making me bunch my back instead of straightening it. He makes me want to run to Master Claudio for protection. To take cover. To hide away until I’m dragged out of my hole.
