Sedition (14 page)

“And I expect you to address me properly, boy,” she tags on. “Just because my husband lets you get away with acting like a free man, don’t expect the same from me.”

Or, maybe she just doesn’t like slaves.

So that’s how it’s going to be. “Yes, mistress,” I reply, hoping that the glare isn’t obvious, and that my tone isn’t as haughty as I think it is.

I spend the day doing pointless tasks, the likes of which Cashiel would have turned his nose up at. I still clean for him, or at least, I did, but since he and I started working more closely together on things that matter, he no longer cares if things are spotless. A quick cleaning every other week or so took care of most of it, and he even helped sometimes. Lisa has me washing laundry, cleaning the toilets, dusting, and even weeding the stupid flower garden outside. Aside from the laundry, everything else seems clean enough already, but I don’t complain. It’s easy enough work, and I certainly don’t hurry to do it. If anything, it helps time to pass until Abriel gets home from work. I can only hope he’ll straighten this out.

Dinner is equally awkward. Abriel places himself next to me, and most of the meal is consumed with silence, or with the mindless chatter of the little girl, who talks over everyone in order to boast about her latest accomplishment (drawing an anatomically correct bunny), and goal (to learn how to make people fly so
she
could fly see her grandparents even though she isn’t old enough to drive a car). Abriel attempts to say a few sentences to Lisa, and is cut off by his daughter. He doesn’t even dare to directly address me. Looking in my direction is enough to make Lisa glare and Bella whine. I was pretty self-absorbed at that age, like all kids, but I’m pretty sure I lacked her absolute disregard for others. Our parents never would have tolerated that, much less encouraged it. Hell, at that age, all I wanted to do was make sure Abriel had the sharpest crayons, the biggest piece of cake, the fork with the handle with stars on it that he liked, even though he couldn’t really draw a star yet. Where did my little brother go?

I retreat to my room after dinner, lying on my back and staring at the ceiling. I suppose I could do something on my tablet, but I don’t want to. What I want to do is cry.

Abriel comes in without knocking.

“Hey, Sascha,” he sits next to me on the bed. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “It’s just a big change. I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

“I’m sure,” he agrees. “Lisa tells me you were a lot of help around the house today, thanks for that. I wish I could stay home more, but Bella’s pretty attached to her mommy, and I guess… I don’t know. I’m sure Lisa’s better able to get her prepared. We decided it would be better for her to stay home instead of hiring a nanny.”

I doubt that Bella would be such a budding little monster if Abriel spent more time with her. He was the friendliest kid ever. Why doesn’t he think that he would do a good job with her?

I wonder if Abriel knows about the Assessment, knows what I did back then. He’s got to have some clue. I don’t ask, though, because that’s just not something I can talk about, and I have an even bigger problem I want to address anyway.

“Abriel, what am I doing here?” I ask, unable to contain it. “I mean, is there anything you want me to do, or…?”

Abriel gives me a funny look. “Sascha, I bought you so you weren’t being treated like shit. Or… you know, raped or whatever horrible things they do to slaves. I don’t need a slave—hell, the only reason I could even afford you is I’ve been saving up ever since the Assessment to rescue you when I could. Just, I don’t know, hang out. Help Lisa around the house. That sort of thing. There’s nothing else you need, is there?”

No, nothing else. Not a purpose in life, a reason to exist, a reason to get out of bed every day. Not someone who actually cares about me sometimes. I can’t put this all into words, especially without sounding completely and totally ungrateful. “No. I’m set.”

“Good.” Abriel is still smiling as he walks out the door. He has no idea.

The next few days pass similarly. I occupy the role of mindless drone, Lisa glares at me and talks to me like I’m missing the better part of my frontal lobe, Abriel is clueless, and even little Bella looks down at me.

She catches me walking by one day, on my way to finish up some more pointless work that I’ve been given.

“Slave Sascha!” the little demon demands, a haughty look on her face. “You will come and join my tea party!”

My heart softens a little bit, because I think that maybe she’s going to try to befriend me. To be fair, I haven’t seen her play with any other kids, or even heard of a play date outside of pre-preschool, and I think that maybe her evil bitch mother just hasn’t socialized her properly.

“All right,” I crouch down on one of the little toy chairs, careful not to put too much weight on it.

“No!” she throws a plastic fork at me. “Slaves sit on the floor! This is
my
tea party and
my
rules are like at Grampa’s house!”

I roll my eyes and drop to the floor, starting to cross my legs before her glare prompts me to my knees.

“Good Slave Sascha,” she smiles at me, and her eyes are as cold and dark as her mother’s.

I suffer through a half hour of her “play,” which mostly involves me pouring all the imaginary tea for the dolls, and fetching play cakes for them, and shining their shoes. What the hell? Since when did three-year-olds play like this?

I’ve had about all I can take when I finally get up, about to return to the work I’m supposed to be doing.

“Slave Sascha, where are you going?” she demands.

“I’ve got work to do, kid,” I mutter. Cleaning toilets would be preferable to this.

“You stay here!” she demands, stomping her little foot. “Or I’ll tell mommy and she’ll be very angry and she’ll punish you!”

She’s got me. She’s got me by my sterilized balls.

“Oh, and my name isn’t ‘kid,’ it’s ‘Miss Bella,’” she announces, turning her nose up. “You’d better bemember it.”

Bemember. I’m being fucking held hostage by a toddler who can’t even pronounce the fucking word “remember.”

Turns out that I would much rather take a bloody whipping than play “tea party” with an arrogant three-year-old for two hours, because that’s how long it lasts. I haven’t seen her this interested in anything else for two hours, but she seems absolutely delighted at making me make the shoes “shinier” and screeching at me for letting Queen Polly Dolly’s imaginary tea get cold. At least her cutting remarks and childish threats are enough to guarantee that I don’t accidentally walk by her playroom again.

I’m miserable by the end of the week, but house is spotless, thanks to the list of chores that Lisa gives me every day once Abriel leaves. I wonder if he knows, or if he cares. I don’t tell him, because it would just sound like I’m complaining, and he doesn’t ask. I pretend that he just thinks I’m spending the day at home with his family, having a good time. Lisa is at least a little more cordial to me when he’s home, maybe she’s lying to him about everything.

We talk sometimes. Yesterday he even took me out for a walk—yes, it felt
just
like that, like I was a pet being taken out for a walk, but it was still nice to talk to him outside of the house. I can’t bring things about Lisa up with him, and he clearly doesn’t want to hear about my life as a slave, and we’re left with little to talk about. Sometimes he’ll tell stories from his first year in college, before Bella, but he’s vague about it. From what I can tell, he just drank a lot and looked for me. He doesn’t mention our parents at all, except to repeat that they’re in good health when I ask him directly. He keeps things pretty generic, talking about work, or his hopes for Bella, or stories from back when we were kids. I enjoy that part the most, in a bittersweet sort of way. I don’t refer to him directly, especially not when we’re in mixed company. I don’t refer to any of them directly, except Lisa, when Abriel is gone, and then I call her “mistress” like she’s ordered me to. I hate her, and it isn’t wearing off.

But I am at least following her orders, doing what she asks, and I’m quickly out of work to do. She’s taken Bella to pre-preschool or some sort of enrichment class—she has at least one every day—so I take the time to flop down on my twin-sized bed, pulling out my tablet for the first time. If nothing else, I have books to read on here, news to catch up on. Lisa has made it very clear that I am forbidden to access anything from their underdeveloped library. The tablet reminds me of Cash, which hits a bitter note, but I remind myself that I’m here now, in my new home, with my family. This has to be better, right? This was what I wanted, always.

Intellectual stimulation is wonderful, and my tablet is full of it. I’m engrossed in what I’m doing, so much so that I don’t hear Lisa come into my room.

She snatches the tablet from my hands. “Where did you get this?” she demands.

I sigh. “My old master gave it to me.” At her glare, I fight against rolling my eyes and add on, “Mistress.”

“What does a stupid slave need a tablet for?” she snaps. “Reading some sort of low-brow trash, I’m sure.”

Actually, I was finishing up reading the research that Cash had flashed over to me a few days before he sold me, some complicated psychological theories of slavery and freedom and training. The other screen will show a few business proposals that I had been studying.

“My master gave it to me,” I repeat, wishing I had never taken it out during the day.

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Well, it’s obvious that
you
don’t need such a nice piece of technology. Perhaps I’ll see if Bella’s ready for a tablet by now; she should have the coordination.”

I seethe, but I know better than to correct her. I’ll talk to Abriel about it later; it will do me no good to fight with this woman. “Can I at least clear some things off it, then,
mistress
?”

She glares at me. “Don’t get smart with me, Sascha, just because your brother spoils you doesn’t mean I will.”

Spoils me? Hell, he lets her treat me like a fucking prisoner! “Mistress, I just wanted to take off anything that might be inappropriate for Bella,” I manage, unable to stop sneering at her.

“Disgusting,” she snaps. “The things you must have put on here—let me guess, you were looking at
pornography
?”

Pornography. She says it like it’s unheard of, like it’s the most corrupt and dirty thing she’s ever imagined. “Among other things,” I snap, wishing I could send her to the brothel for just one day to see what corrupt and dirty really means. “Things your pretty little face has probably never seen. Lots of gay stuff. Anal. Just men fucking men fucking other men. Maybe even some animals. Kinky like you wouldn’t even know how to imagine.”

She slaps me.

I’m stunned more than hurt, but it hurts, too, the fucking bitch hits hard. I sit there and glare at her, and she grabs me by the jaw, forcing me to look at her.

“If you
ever
speak to me like that again, I’ll see to it that you’re whipped,” she threatens. “My husband might be too sentimental to sell you, but there are far worse things than being sold. Stay in your place, slave, or I’ll find a way to make sure you do.”

I don’t answer, and she fortunately doesn’t require me to as she turns to leave, taking my tablet with her. She pauses in the doorway. “Don’t bother coming out for dinner. I’ll tell my husband that you’re feeling ill.”

Right. Because she’s going to starve me, too. Fucking bitch. I don’t respond as she slams my door, but I shudder when I hear it lock. I’m a prisoner where I’m supposed to be home.

Chapter 13
Boundaries and Plans

It’s the next morning before the bitch lets me out, after Abriel has left for work, and I have to piss badly enough that I’m actually honest when I say, “Thank you, mistress.”

I’m on edge all day, I can tell that she’s waiting for me to fuck up. All I want to do is talk to my brother and get this figured out. What else can I do?

I’m afraid of her. I don’t want to be. I want to believe that my brother will keep me safe, but he isn’t, and I don’t know if he will. I have learned to identify threats as a slave, and she clearly is one, and I hate it. I feel my whole body tense up at just hearing her walk through the house.

She can’t hide me away forever. The first thing Abriel does when he comes home from work the next day is demand to see me. Lisa leaves to take Bella for her modern dance class, so I’m relieved to have the chance to talk freely with him.

“Sascha, is everything all right? You look, I don’t know, nervous or something. That stomach flu still bothering you?” The look on his face indicates that he has no idea at all what’s wrong, and I want to slap him for being so thick and trusting his evil bitch wife.

“Abriel, I wasn’t sick, she locked me in my room and wouldn’t let me out,” I snap, suddenly offended. I intend to shock him, to snap him out of the daze she has him in.

“What happened?”

What happened? What happened is
not
what I am expecting to hear. “Does it matter?” I yell, enraged. “I talked back to her and she hit me and then she locked me in my room!”

Abriel goes pale. “Shit, Sascha, I’m sorry.”

He should be sorry. He should be more than sorry. Sorry would be acceptable if she yelled at me or ignored me all day. He should be horrified, like I have been, and he should be trying to find a fucking solution to this.

“What did you say to her?” he asks.

“Nothing much, she just took my fucking tablet—by the way, my tablet? She took it to give to Bella and I asked if I could take the inappropriate things off, and she suggested I was looking at porn, and I was pissed off at her so I described the kind of porn that might have been on it and she slapped me!”

Abriel goes quiet for a minute and I wait, hoping he’s got a plan for how to deal with this. It’s not like I’m expecting him to leave his wife over one little altercation, but I want to hear some sort of plan from him, some sort of reassurance that he’ll at least
attempt
to keep me safe in the future.