Chapter 7 – Cinder
Twisting my hair intotwo braids, I secured them with a rubber at each end and stood. I glanced at Luke’s chair and wondered what happened to him. I still had no sense of time, but I knew it was a while since he hadn’t returned. In that time, Master had taken me upstairs again to that room with the white seats. After he had his way with me, he cuffed my hand to his and while he slept on one of those soft seats, he made me sleep on the floor. The rug was nice, though, and my body was used to the hardness of the floor.
Again, I looked at Luke’s chair. Maybe Master decided I didn’t need a security guard anymore. Maybe he planned to take me upstairs again. Not that I wanted to. I preferred my books to his company. Since Zarina took me out, Master’s visits became more frequent, his playtime rougher, harder, and more painful.
And every time he finished, he always ended with, “You’re mine, kitten.” Strangely, I feared his possession now more than I’d done over the years with him. Maybe Zarina told him something about those men wanting to buy me. Perhaps he was dying.
“What would happen to me if he did?” I panicked.
Only Zarina and Luke knew about me, and both hadn’t returned.
About to remove my tunic, I heard the deadbolt slide open and quickly dropped to my knees. Bowing my head, I clasped my hands to my chest and waited.
“Eyes,” Master ordered, his tone hard.
I opened my eyes and flinched. Master looked different today. He was a cold man usually. Today, though, I felt that iciness only winter brought—when my thin blanket barely provided any warmth and my jaw ached from my chattering teeth. Sometimes Luke would take pity on me and cover me with an extra blanket he always hid when Master visited.
But Luke wasn’t here today to offer me any warmth. The tiny creases on Master’s face appeared deeper, and the way his jaw clenched, I knew he was angry.
What did I do wrong?My heart asked the words my mouth couldn’t.
“Who is he?”
I didn’t even see his hand move before a burst of pain slashed across my cheek, my head snapping to the side, my tongue slipping between my teeth, biting down to cut off my cry. I felt the wetness of blood on my lip, felt it roll down my chin. I didn’t touch it. I never did. I just stared at the floor, my insides crying out for him to leave me alone.
“Who the fuck is he, kitten?” he screamed again.
“Who, Master?” I whispered, and another slap rang through the air, my punishment for talking.
His breathing heavy, anger colored the air around him a shade of red I dreaded most. He crouched in front of me. “Look at me,” he demanded.
I did, just managing to keep my eyes fixed on his. It was like staring at my dark ceiling when the lights went out. No life, no shape, no feeling. And I feared the darkness. Always afraid of those imaginary fingers reaching down to squeeze my neck, to hurt me. Sometimes I didn’t sleep, waiting for Luke to switch on the lights so I could breathe easily.
Those empty eyes glaring back at me told me death was at my door.
Tired and too weak to fight anymore, I welcomed it.
