The room I slept in was beautiful and immaculate. Every morning the sun came spilling into the room when Celia came in to draw back the heavy curtains. I had told her I was more than capable of drawing back the curtains myself, but she simply ignored me as she went about her business of preparing the room for the day.
“She’s not allowed to speak to you,” Caleb said as he sat on the edge of the bed. It was only our second week at the mansion and he looked so tired, like he wasn’t able to rest at all. He complained he couldn’t go on sleeping in all his clothes forever. Yet, every night, he did.
Caleb was more erratic than usual during those first few weeks. Yes, he was cruel. He put me through my paces, teaching me certain phrases in Russian and what actions to take when I heard them. He insisted I crawl, call him master, and that I go through a series of humiliations meant to make me get over my shyness.
For all that, he didn’t really touch me. He kept me clothed. He protected me by not letting others near me. I knew he stayed with me at night because I had nightmares when he didn’t. He slept in his t-shirt and shorts, seemingly content to just sleep next to me and not touch me unless I woke from some horrible nightmare and huddled close to him. He soothed me.
“Why isn’t she allowed to talk to me?” I asked, in a sardonic tone.
Caleb glared at me for several moments before he replied. “Kitten, you should really watch the way you speak to me. Just because you’re hurt, doesn’t mean I’m not keeping score.” He stared at me, squarely in the eyes, until I finally looked down.
“Sorry, Master.” He eyed me strangely. “Can I please know why she’s not allowed to speak to me?”
“Celia isn’t just her master’s lover, she’s also his servant. It’s not so unusual I guess. I’ve never been involved with someone long enough to know the idiosyncrasies that go along with being in a relationship, but I know enough to say it makes sense. It’s not like he can use her for sex all the time.” My face must have shown my indignant shock because Caleb pressed his finger to my lips to keep me from speaking.
Even though I shouldn’t and it might piss Caleb off, I spoke anyway, “Don’t you think that’s a silly rule? It sounds pretty mean to me.”
“Well trust me; sometimes talking to you is what is mean,” he commented, but smiled.
I smiled back. Asshole. Perversely, I thought about how much I would miss him after he sold me, and I wondered if he would miss me, too, perhaps even enough to come for me. You’re not a princess and he isn’t the handsome prince come to save you. Or don’t you remember? I sighed at my inner voice. I was talking to myself more and more. Not only was I going crazy, but I was bitchy company.
Some days I could almost forget I was being held against my will. I never did, but I flirted with the idea every now and then. Caleb would have Celia bring us breakfast and we’d eat it outside, just the two of us. Out in the sunshine, eating fresh pastries from Caleb’s hand and sipping hand-squeezed orange juice, I thought: This isn’t so bad.
Of course, some days it was nearly impossible to forget I was Caleb’s prisoner. I was still moving slowly from my injuries. The bruises had nearly faded away, but the pain in my ribs and shoulder was always there to remind me about a lot of things. It was a deterrent against running away again. It was also a reminder I had gotten off easy with Caleb. Still, leave it to Caleb to think of a way to use the pain toward his own ends.
One morning in particular, he’d left me alone in the room with Celia and against my better judgment I decided to talk to her.
Celia’s eyes avoided mine as she went about my room straightening things that didn’t need to be straightened and dusting. I really pitied her. She was beautiful and her demeanor hinted at her immense inner strength and yet…she was a slave. I wondered if I would be half as graceful as she when my time finally came. I did note, with some hope, she didn’t appear to be abused. There were no bruises on her, no outward signs to suggest she was suffering. Yes. There was definitely hope in that.
“Celia?” I spoke her name haltingly, scared she would answer me and scared she wouldn’t. Her gaze fell upon me kindly, with only a quirked eyebrow in question. It wasn’t really a response, but it was more than I’d gotten from her before. I figured since Caleb wasn’t present she would speak to me. “How long have you been here?”
She stared at me for a long while, until I grew uncomfortable and squirmed. I didn’t think it was a complicated question, though at some point I wanted to ask her those too. Finally, her mouth quirked to the side and she nodded briefly; neither was for my benefit. She looked at me with a smile in her eyes and held up six fingers.
I wanted to yell at her for not using her words, but I was sure it wouldn’t get me anywhere good. “Siiiiiix…months?”
She shook her head.
I took a deep, fortifying breath for my next question, “Years?”
She nodded and smiled.
Fuck. Years? She’d been Felipe’s slave for six years. I couldn’t imagine. “Did you never try to escape?!” My voice was apparently too loud. Her eyes were suddenly frantic and she looked at the door as if it would burst open and something horrible would happen. She scurried toward me and held her fingers to my lips.
I was stunned and still, waiting for the moment to settle. Her eyes scolded me and continued to scold me as she backed away from me shaking her head.
She left the room before I could apologize or ask another question.
Nice going!
“Fuck you,” I whispered to no one at all.
I had expected to face Caleb’s wrath within minutes of Celia’s exit, but no one came. I wasn’t allowed to leave my new room, Caleb had made that clear. So I waited…and waited…and waited. Hours later, I was starving and the pain in my ribs and shoulder was becoming less bearable with each passing minute. Finally, I risked trying the door, but it was locked.
Eventually, I resorted to screaming and begging Caleb through the door to forgive me and give me my medicine. I wondered if I might be an addict, but given the level of pain I was in, I doubted it. I needed those f**king pills. I also, needed to eat! Of course, Caleb knew it as well, and his punishment, free of violence, was still cruel.
Gradually, it became dark outside. As I lay crying on my bed, I heard the sound of someone unlocking my door. I cried in stark relief when Caleb entered the room.
“Are you ready?”
I whimpered and nodded. “Yes, Master. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“You always say that, Kitten, but then you refuse to follow the rules and I have to punish you all over again. Didn’t I tell you Celia isn’t allowed to speak to you?” he chided.
“Yes, Master. I know you did. I’m sorry.”
“Well, if you weren’t before, at the very least I know you are now.” He sat on the bed and held out a glass of water and some pills. “Sit up and take these.”
I sat up slowly, sobbing. Part of it was the pain, but there was also a sense of shame involved. Caleb was disappointed with me. He’d told me the rules, he’d explained. I hadn’t listened. “I can’t believe you left me this long. It f**king hurts.” I cried.
“I didn’t choose to leave you, Kitten. You made that choice yourself,” Caleb said. It came as a surprise he wasn’t yelling at me, or promising me more pain. He was very matter-of-fact about the whole thing. I wondered if it was just another way to mess with my head.
“Where were you?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Just now? Bed. Earlier, I went out. Felipe has horses and I’d never ridden one,” he smiled.
“Me neither,” I whispered. Now that Caleb was near, I felt calmer. I was angry with him, of course, but I’d come to live for these moments with Caleb. I felt protected. I felt kept. Without him, my life was a giant question mark.
He smiled a little and pushed an errant lock of hair behind my ear, “Maybe when you’re better, I can take you.”
My heart seemed to swell in my chest, “Will I be here long enough? With you?” I met Caleb’s clear blue eyes and they appeared wistful. I would have given anything to know what he was thinking, but I knew better than to ask.
“Maybe, Kitten. Sometimes…” he paused.
“Sometimes?” I tried to urge him along.
“Sometimes.” He smiled and stroked my hair with so much silent affection I felt like crying again. “Are you hungry, Kitten?” he whispered.
I inclined my face into his hand and closed my eyes, trying to hold on to him and knowing there was no way I possibly could. “Yes, Master.”
Then we ate, Caleb feeding me pieces off his plate. It was strangely…comfortable. Afterward, he rubbed my sore body until I fell asleep.
I slept, but I was having that horrible dream again. My stomach felt like a tight, hot knot of pressure weighing me down from the inside. I turned and turned, the knot only getting tighter and hotter and heavier.
They held me down, and the smell of beer and cigarettes came off of them in waves. Their rough hands blazed a trail along my skin as they pulled at my clothes, and the sound of my protests fell upon deaf ears. The horror played in slow motion, coming in random flashes of what I remembered, and what I still felt. Then the nightmare took on a life of its own, no longer bound by the facts.