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“She doesn’t know. She thinks her superstitions brought this on herself. Rob, I’ll watch the tapes again, but I couldn’t find anything that might have poisoned her. It wasn’t the food from the restaurant. We have every angle of that kitchen recorded. Nothing was done to any of your meals. Are you sure there’s nothing you’re forgetting?
“I’ve tried to think. I…I don’t know. I can’t think of anything.”
“Can I watch the video from your apartment?”
“I beg your fucking pardon?”
“Don’t look at me like that. Every inch of this place is recorded. It has to be for situations just like this. I haven’t looked out of respect for your privacy, but I need to watch. She said she did this. Just in case she’s not referring to her religion or views, I need to see for myself.”
A sound left my Master. I turned towards them, watching as his stare narrowed at me.
“Do it. Let me know immediately if you come across something.”
“I’ll call the moment I finish.”
Elec gave me one last glance before he left the room. Concern and anger tightened my Master’s expression, but he continued towards me, taking a seat on the edge of my bed.
“I’m having Elec watch the video of our apartment. Is there anything you want to tell me before he does?”
“There’s nothing to tell. He’ll see why this happened when he watches.”
“Because what we do is dirty, or because you did this to yourself?”
My eyes studied his as sleep tried to pull me under. My mouth felt heavy and talking seemed so hard to do. “Dirty,” I said, waving my hand, but pointing upwards. “Fate. He disapproves. It’s my fault. I knew better.”
“So, you didn’t poison yourself?”
“Poison, no. Karma, yes.”
Master B-1212
One day. Three days. Five.
Every hour was fucking torture as I watched my slave get further and further away with having anything to do with me. Concern over her wellbeing had kept me from putting my hands on her, but now that she was becoming obsessive in her cleanliness and rituals it was getting to the point where I was quickly running out of patience. And hadn’t that used to be my biggest problem? I didn’t think; I reacted. I didn’t think; I spoke. I didn’t think; I did. And we all knew anything I did was never good enough. Not for the public, and not for my impossible, abusive, career-politician father. He hadn’t been the best role model, despite what he showed for outward appearances.
To the world, Roger Delgado was without fault. They saw the grief-stricken husband and doting father. They saw a man who spent nearly a year at his wife’s bed as she withered away from sickness and cancer, and the son he raised for years on his own after her death. To them, he could do no wrong. What they didn’t see was the evidence of his darker side burned all over me. Cigar burn, here.You’re a failure, Robert.A burn, there.Did I tell you to use your fucking head? What were you thinking?A collection of his wrath, all over my chest, thighs, and back.“You know better than that. Do you see what an embarrassment you are? Did you see the headlines you made? How could you do something so stupid?
I thought I’d become more patient. After all, I’d taken all the classes. I went through therapy and training to better manage my emotions and reactions for situations. Patience. Empathy. Breathing through the impulses. Analyzing what caused the reaction. Was it rational? Was it the right decision?
I was losing my fucking slave to a stupid belief. One I didn’t understand. One I couldn’t fathom. Yes, that was worth knocking her straight. Maybe even physically. She had to see she didn’t do this to herself, and that’s what pissed me off the most. Somehow, somewhere, someone hurt my slave. Maybe not even intentionally, but there was a chance, and I would not rest until I figured out what happened.
“Come on, Clara, time to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.
“You barely touched your lunch. You’re eating.”
“Later. Sick.”
“Still? It’s been days.”
Her eyes closed, and she curled more into herself. I wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not. How far did this superstition go? She thought her actions made her sick. Could she be holding to that even though she was fine now…or was she truly not feeling well?
“Up. Come on.”
I scooped her into my arms, shoving the bathroom door open. Clara thrashed in my hold, but I refused to put her down.
“What are you doing? Take me back.”
