No Refunds
Part six and seven; parts one through five are available here if you're curious.
I finally managed to fall asleep after he'd gone, still huddled beneath the blankets, preferring unconsciousness to the chaos of my thoughts. I dreamed.
...I was walking along an dimly-lit hall, moving at a slow but steady pace. There were others walking with me, several in front and at least one in back. I didn't look back over my shoulder, I just knew they were there, heard their footsteps. Bare feet on stone, the walls draped with brightly-dyed burlap between the flickering light of torches, the roof stained pure black with what must have been decades of smoke.
There was steel around my throat, steel around my wrists, steel around my ankles. A chain ran between my wrists, linking them together. Another was attached to my left ankle, a much longer one that stretched forward and backward, linking all of us in the line. The collar was heavy, a round bar bent to fit and then locked in place. Wait... no. I could see the collar of the person in front, it was turned with the fastening in the back, facing me. There was no lock, just a lump of metal soldered in place to ensure it couldn't be removed.
I kept walking - the chain at my ankle ensured that even if I stopped, I would be pulled along, and more than likely would cause the entire line to end up with sore ankles. I knew, somehow, that injuring the others would bring me considerable pain and suffering.
The hall seemed to stretch forever. I had time to look quite closely at the boy in front of me. Long, narrow scars crossed and recrossed his back and his thighs. He was wearing something that called to mind the wrap skirts of ancient Egypt, white fabric with a vivid blue trim along the waist and bottom. The fabric was nearly transparent, and I could see a mark on his hip as the corridor curved, a series of numbers written or tattooed there. I glanced down at my own hip; the cloth covering my mark was tinted yellow, with red trimmings, but still translucent enough for me to make out the numbers.
They were not just numbers, there were a few letters as well. Now that I was focusing on it, I could feel a faint throbbing there, and I could see the reddened, raised skin. Definitely a tattoo. I shook my head in puzzlement; Sarah had tattooed me there, but that wasn't her mark...
...wait, who was Sarah? I struggled to remember, to bring back a face, a memory. The harder I tried, the further it slipped away until I wanted to scream in frustration. Then... then I did scream, suddenly terrified, the hall seeming to melt away into nothingness...
"Hey. Hey! You're ok, you're safe, whatever it was, it was just a dream. Wake up. It's ok."
I knew that voice; still trembling, I pressed against the hand that had slipped through the bars of the cage, wrapped myself around it, clung to it for a moment. My eyes were still tightly closed, and it took several minutes of arguing with myself to manage to open them. When I did, the first thing I saw was a concerned Kieran staring at me with a rather worrying intensity.
Somewhat sheepish now, I shook my head to clear it, then scooted back, releasing his hand and pressing my back against the far side of the cage from where he knelt.
"I'm sorry, I don't usually dream... If I woke you, I apologize, I'm truly sorry-"
A raised hand was signal enough, and I shut my mouth.
"You didn't wake me, boy. I was reading, I heard you calling out, and I stuck my head in to make sure you're ok, is all. ...you ARE ok, yes?"
"Yeah. It was a weird dream..." I trailed off, remembering it with surprising clarity. "I don't even know what was so scary about it, up until the end it was actually kind of boring."
There was an odd flash of recognition in Kieran's expression when I said this, quickly disappearing to make room for polite concern. He glanced at the cage door, then chuckled.
"You have a bit of a problem there, unless I'm mistaken."
I followed his gaze, saw the closed and locked cage door.
"I... did you... why did you lock me in?"
"I didn't lock you in. It was like that when I came in, I believe; you must've done it yourself in your sleep. Do you know where Sarah keeps the key?"
"Yeah," I sighed, leaning back against the bars with a disgusted look, "she keeps it on her keyring. Which she packed."
He started chuckling again, then as he caught sight of my expression it turned to laughter, leaving him rolling on the floor for a moment, struggling to catch his breath.
"Oh... oh gods, and we don't even know for sure when she'll be back... hehehe, you're going to be stuck there... oh gods, and when she gets back she's going to be so confused, she knows I can't stand putting anyone in a cage... oh, the look on her face will be priceless!"
I rolled my eyes and muttered, "At least one of us is enjoying this..." which only had him laughing harder, gulping for air. After a minute I couldn't help it, I started grinning... then laughing as well, the ridiculousness of the situation outweighing my annoyance at myself.
When the laughter had died down, I scooted over to the cage door, looking it over; I'd never really paid much attention to it, as I'd only been in before when Sarah had been nearby, knowing that the door would be opened again when she wished it, and not until. The idea of escape from the cage hadn't even entered my mind until now. Kieran hopped up to sit cross-legged on her bed, watching me with quite a bit of amusement.
"I've been over every inch of that thing; trust me, there's no way to open it without the key. It's possible if you're a contortionist to unhook the bars from the base at one end, or it used to be. I think she welded that spot after I'd gotten out the first few times, though."
My attention turned back to him after the last few words, a look of amazement no doubt quite visible. He laughed again, somewhat bitterly.
"She never mentions that part, does she?"
"I... I hadn't really thought about it. I got the impression that she purchased the cage after I arrived," I answered hesitantly.
"Hell, no. She's had that thing since long before I knew her. She doesn't bring it out unless she thinks she needs it, though. I didn't get shoved in it until the first time I slipped my cuffs." His hands flexed, the memory more than mere words for him, it seemed. I realized my own hands were clasping opposite wrists and managed a chuckle.
"That's when she... I guess when she got it back out, then, for me, too. I was being kind of a brat, I guess. She said if my cuffs wouldn't hold me, she'd find something that would."
"Yeah, that sounds like one of her lines. It's always the way with her; every time you think you've found some way to fight back, to save face, to hold onto your pride, she'll come up with something new to beat you right back down." His voice was quiet now, no trace of laughter as he continued, "She knows what she's doing, too. Everything she does, somehow it's all part of her plans. Anything you do, she's already a step or two ahead, always. You can't beat her, no matter how hard you try..."
I couldn't help shivering at the tone in his voice, and quickly wrapped myself in one of the blankets, suddenly feeling relieved to be shielded from view. His head, which had been half-bowed, his gaze fixed on the floor, suddenly raised to look at me.
"Take that off."
He'd barely finished speaking when I had the blanket shrugged off, was kneeling a second later... and blushing, furious with myself for such a reaction, a moment after that. Again that bitter laugh tumbled out, his gaze knowing.
"She's definitely got her claws in you. What made you do it, boy? Why'd you give up your freedom for that bitch?"
That last word was enough to set my teeth on edge; I snatched the blanket back up, wrapping it around myself again, and settling crosslegged as he was. Only then did I answer him.
"I asked her to take it from me. My 'freedom' wasn't doing me a damn bit of good... I didn't want it, don't want it. A day spent serving her is more satisfying than a year of freedom. Oh, and just so you know, I would prefer it if you didn't try to insult her, or me... boy."
He raised an eyebrow and what anger I'd been holding onto was lost again as I realized that pissing off the only source of food and water I was likely to have for a while wasn't the brightest of ideas. Wise or not, I managed to keep my expression from shifting, glaring right back at him with far more pride and certainty than I actually felt.
"I think I've earned the right to insult her all I want. I don't do it often; certainly not as often as she deserves. Hell, she's proud of the fact that she's a bitch, she revels in it most days.
"I think you need to realize that the way you see her, adoration and respect and all of that, isn't all there is to see. She's got a dark side, and one day you'll be faced with it. I hope, for her sake, that after you've seen it you will still stay with her. For your sake, I hope when the time comes you'll run as far and as fast as you can, and never come near her again. Unfortunately, I rather doubt this'll be the case. You love her, don't you?"
My mouth opened, about to answer... something in his tone gave me pause, and I actually considered the question rather than blurt out my first, instinctive response.
"Yeah, I do love her. Kieran, every positive thing in the last year has involved her. Every good moment is her gift in one way or another. She... she does so much, gives so much, and all she asks in return is submission; if she wanted the moon on a string I'd find a way to climb into the sky and bring it back for her, I'm thankful that she is satisfied with a collar around my throat and a tattoo on my hip. She means the world to me."
He leaned back, silent, digesting my answer... then shook his head, rising and heading to the door.
"Just try to remember one thing: she meant the world to me, too... and to the boy before me, and the one before him, and so on. You're not the first. You won't be the last. Enjoy it, her, while you can."
With that, he stalked out, closing the door and leaving me in the darkness.
I finally managed to fall asleep after he'd gone, still huddled beneath the blankets, preferring unconsciousness to the chaos of my thoughts. I dreamed.
...I was walking along an dimly-lit hall, moving at a slow but steady pace. There were others walking with me, several in front and at least one in back. I didn't look back over my shoulder, I just knew they were there, heard their footsteps. Bare feet on stone, the walls draped with brightly-dyed burlap between the flickering light of torches, the roof stained pure black with what must have been decades of smoke.
There was steel around my throat, steel around my wrists, steel around my ankles. A chain ran between my wrists, linking them together. Another was attached to my left ankle, a much longer one that stretched forward and backward, linking all of us in the line. The collar was heavy, a round bar bent to fit and then locked in place. Wait... no. I could see the collar of the person in front, it was turned with the fastening in the back, facing me. There was no lock, just a lump of metal soldered in place to ensure it couldn't be removed.
I kept walking - the chain at my ankle ensured that even if I stopped, I would be pulled along, and more than likely would cause the entire line to end up with sore ankles. I knew, somehow, that injuring the others would bring me considerable pain and suffering.
The hall seemed to stretch forever. I had time to look quite closely at the boy in front of me. Long, narrow scars crossed and recrossed his back and his thighs. He was wearing something that called to mind the wrap skirts of ancient Egypt, white fabric with a vivid blue trim along the waist and bottom. The fabric was nearly transparent, and I could see a mark on his hip as the corridor curved, a series of numbers written or tattooed there. I glanced down at my own hip; the cloth covering my mark was tinted yellow, with red trimmings, but still translucent enough for me to make out the numbers.
They were not just numbers, there were a few letters as well. Now that I was focusing on it, I could feel a faint throbbing there, and I could see the reddened, raised skin. Definitely a tattoo. I shook my head in puzzlement; Sarah had tattooed me there, but that wasn't her mark...
...wait, who was Sarah? I struggled to remember, to bring back a face, a memory. The harder I tried, the further it slipped away until I wanted to scream in frustration. Then... then I did scream, suddenly terrified, the hall seeming to melt away into nothingness...
"Hey. Hey! You're ok, you're safe, whatever it was, it was just a dream. Wake up. It's ok."
I knew that voice; still trembling, I pressed against the hand that had slipped through the bars of the cage, wrapped myself around it, clung to it for a moment. My eyes were still tightly closed, and it took several minutes of arguing with myself to manage to open them. When I did, the first thing I saw was a concerned Kieran staring at me with a rather worrying intensity.
Somewhat sheepish now, I shook my head to clear it, then scooted back, releasing his hand and pressing my back against the far side of the cage from where he knelt.
"I'm sorry, I don't usually dream... If I woke you, I apologize, I'm truly sorry-"
A raised hand was signal enough, and I shut my mouth.
"You didn't wake me, boy. I was reading, I heard you calling out, and I stuck my head in to make sure you're ok, is all. ...you ARE ok, yes?"
"Yeah. It was a weird dream..." I trailed off, remembering it with surprising clarity. "I don't even know what was so scary about it, up until the end it was actually kind of boring."
There was an odd flash of recognition in Kieran's expression when I said this, quickly disappearing to make room for polite concern. He glanced at the cage door, then chuckled.
"You have a bit of a problem there, unless I'm mistaken."
I followed his gaze, saw the closed and locked cage door.
"I... did you... why did you lock me in?"
"I didn't lock you in. It was like that when I came in, I believe; you must've done it yourself in your sleep. Do you know where Sarah keeps the key?"
"Yeah," I sighed, leaning back against the bars with a disgusted look, "she keeps it on her keyring. Which she packed."
He started chuckling again, then as he caught sight of my expression it turned to laughter, leaving him rolling on the floor for a moment, struggling to catch his breath.
"Oh... oh gods, and we don't even know for sure when she'll be back... hehehe, you're going to be stuck there... oh gods, and when she gets back she's going to be so confused, she knows I can't stand putting anyone in a cage... oh, the look on her face will be priceless!"
I rolled my eyes and muttered, "At least one of us is enjoying this..." which only had him laughing harder, gulping for air. After a minute I couldn't help it, I started grinning... then laughing as well, the ridiculousness of the situation outweighing my annoyance at myself.
When the laughter had died down, I scooted over to the cage door, looking it over; I'd never really paid much attention to it, as I'd only been in before when Sarah had been nearby, knowing that the door would be opened again when she wished it, and not until. The idea of escape from the cage hadn't even entered my mind until now. Kieran hopped up to sit cross-legged on her bed, watching me with quite a bit of amusement.
"I've been over every inch of that thing; trust me, there's no way to open it without the key. It's possible if you're a contortionist to unhook the bars from the base at one end, or it used to be. I think she welded that spot after I'd gotten out the first few times, though."
My attention turned back to him after the last few words, a look of amazement no doubt quite visible. He laughed again, somewhat bitterly.
"She never mentions that part, does she?"
"I... I hadn't really thought about it. I got the impression that she purchased the cage after I arrived," I answered hesitantly.
"Hell, no. She's had that thing since long before I knew her. She doesn't bring it out unless she thinks she needs it, though. I didn't get shoved in it until the first time I slipped my cuffs." His hands flexed, the memory more than mere words for him, it seemed. I realized my own hands were clasping opposite wrists and managed a chuckle.
"That's when she... I guess when she got it back out, then, for me, too. I was being kind of a brat, I guess. She said if my cuffs wouldn't hold me, she'd find something that would."
"Yeah, that sounds like one of her lines. It's always the way with her; every time you think you've found some way to fight back, to save face, to hold onto your pride, she'll come up with something new to beat you right back down." His voice was quiet now, no trace of laughter as he continued, "She knows what she's doing, too. Everything she does, somehow it's all part of her plans. Anything you do, she's already a step or two ahead, always. You can't beat her, no matter how hard you try..."
I couldn't help shivering at the tone in his voice, and quickly wrapped myself in one of the blankets, suddenly feeling relieved to be shielded from view. His head, which had been half-bowed, his gaze fixed on the floor, suddenly raised to look at me.
"Take that off."
He'd barely finished speaking when I had the blanket shrugged off, was kneeling a second later... and blushing, furious with myself for such a reaction, a moment after that. Again that bitter laugh tumbled out, his gaze knowing.
"She's definitely got her claws in you. What made you do it, boy? Why'd you give up your freedom for that bitch?"
That last word was enough to set my teeth on edge; I snatched the blanket back up, wrapping it around myself again, and settling crosslegged as he was. Only then did I answer him.
"I asked her to take it from me. My 'freedom' wasn't doing me a damn bit of good... I didn't want it, don't want it. A day spent serving her is more satisfying than a year of freedom. Oh, and just so you know, I would prefer it if you didn't try to insult her, or me... boy."
He raised an eyebrow and what anger I'd been holding onto was lost again as I realized that pissing off the only source of food and water I was likely to have for a while wasn't the brightest of ideas. Wise or not, I managed to keep my expression from shifting, glaring right back at him with far more pride and certainty than I actually felt.
"I think I've earned the right to insult her all I want. I don't do it often; certainly not as often as she deserves. Hell, she's proud of the fact that she's a bitch, she revels in it most days.
"I think you need to realize that the way you see her, adoration and respect and all of that, isn't all there is to see. She's got a dark side, and one day you'll be faced with it. I hope, for her sake, that after you've seen it you will still stay with her. For your sake, I hope when the time comes you'll run as far and as fast as you can, and never come near her again. Unfortunately, I rather doubt this'll be the case. You love her, don't you?"
My mouth opened, about to answer... something in his tone gave me pause, and I actually considered the question rather than blurt out my first, instinctive response.
"Yeah, I do love her. Kieran, every positive thing in the last year has involved her. Every good moment is her gift in one way or another. She... she does so much, gives so much, and all she asks in return is submission; if she wanted the moon on a string I'd find a way to climb into the sky and bring it back for her, I'm thankful that she is satisfied with a collar around my throat and a tattoo on my hip. She means the world to me."
He leaned back, silent, digesting my answer... then shook his head, rising and heading to the door.
"Just try to remember one thing: she meant the world to me, too... and to the boy before me, and the one before him, and so on. You're not the first. You won't be the last. Enjoy it, her, while you can."
With that, he stalked out, closing the door and leaving me in the darkness.