by Rae, Nikki
“You get used to it,” he said, eyes preoccupied with the rug beneath us. He motioned with his fingers to give him back his cigarette and I had no problem doing so. Master Lyon took a long, deep pull. He held it back out to me, more than willing to share, but I had been tortured enough for one night. I shook my head and he inhaled another lungful of smoke, blowing it out over my head so I could still smell it.
“What did you need to tell me, sir?” I finally asked.
He looked into the fire for what seemed like the longest time, glass still in hand despite its emptiness. “It will take place tomorrow.”
I’d been watching his face, but now I could look nowhere else but at the fire either, same as him.
“Do you…have questions, Doe?” he asked tentatively, not wanting to say the wrong thing.
Of course I did. When? How? Would I see him again? How much time did we have left?
Right now, I didn’t want answers to any of them.
I licked my dry lips and picked up my glass, tossing back the rest of the alcohol inside. “Can I please have more?” I asked through my burning throat, swallowing as it spread through my chest and settled in my belly.
Master Lyon slowly turned his head towards me, looking past me at the bar cart before deciding to bring back the entire bottle of what he’d poured us.
Lining up both glasses, he gave us more and slid mine to me. He sat closer now; instead of in front of me, he came to my side. The blanket had slipped down one shoulder, so when he wrapped his arm around me, he had partial access to the design on my back, which he traced without having to look.
“How long will my henna take to fade, sir?”
He narrowed his eyes a moment, one corner of his mouth fighting a smile.
“A few weeks,” he said. “You were so patient when I gave it to you. My mark may stay longer than that.”
Patience. That had been the entire reason he’d bestowed the flowers and lines that meant I belonged to him. His eyes followed my every little movement, waiting for me to say something. I drank more of my brown liquid; it didn’t burn as much now. I watched as the last of my ice melted into nothing.
“Will you…” I wanted to stop myself, but I allowed one selfish thing. “Will you tell me?”
His head tilted slightly to the side.
“Before,” I explained.
He glanced away and then stared into me. “Of course, Doe.” His lips parted, but he didn’t say anything more.
I cleared my throat, suddenly more exhausted than I’d been all day. “Can…can we go to sleep soon, sir?”
He hadn’t been expecting this, but he covered it well, holding up the bottle. “One more?”
I tossed back the rest of my drink and handed it to him and he finished the bottle evenly between us. We finished them more or less quickly and then he helped me stand.
The bed’s smooth black blankets and pillows were almost enough to distract me from the dead eyes hanging on the wall, and before I could take a step towards it, Master Lyon grabbed my hand and stopped me.
“You have a choice to make right now, Doe.” His restless fingers betrayed his commanding tone.
I didn’t understand until he had led me to the side of the bed, which had been out of view until now. On the floor there, gilded in gold, was a cage large enough for a dog. Me.
“You don’t have to,” he whispered, drawing my eyes back to him. His thumb actively rubbed my hand now; he wasn’t trying to convince me he was unaffected.
I glanced at the bed, running my free hand over the silky sheets. It would be my last night as a human being with the privilege of not only a warm bed, but to be close to Master Lyon—my Owner for a few hours more.
There would be plenty of time to sleep in a cage, yet I couldn’t help but remember his faint words: “If I lose myself in you now, I won’t be able to do it. I’d fail.”
I wanted nothing more than to soak into his warmth one final time, but it would only hurt me. I would fail too.
“No,” I finally said. “I-I’d like to sleep in the cage, sir.”
Neither of us believed that, but it didn’t matter.
I could see he was biting the inside of his cheek.
“Really,” I added evenly.
His jaw set into a firm line and he nodded once, seeming to understand why I needed to do this. Master Lyon cleared his throat as he let go of my hand so he could kneel in front of the cage to unlock an ornate gold lock with a key that lay on the glass night table.
Rather than let my dread consume me, I emptied my mind of everything else and remembered that this time, I had chosen this and it had been with him.
The barred door opened up with a tiny squeak and he moved aside and waited.
Kneeling, I made it a point not to look away from my Owner. I would not be ashamed. Not with him and not yet. Master Lyon nodded once, and the approval and pride in his eyes helped me crawl towards the cage.
I climbed into the narrow, enclosed space, but thankfully, there was enough room to turn around so I could face him. Picking up the fur I’d abandoned on the floor, he tucked it in with me then placed a pillow under my head. I should have argued—any comfort made this practice less realistic—but I seemed to need it as much as he did. As I settled to the ground on my side, I could smell the smoke and fire in the fur and the memory of the night Master Lyon and I had first spent in front of his fireplace skipped through my mind like a gouged record.
My Owner closed and locked the door and I watched every tiny movement; the skin stretching across his knuckles, his fingernails, how he turned his wrist to make sure the lock was completely secure before he pulled out the key.
Then he stood and walked around to the other side of the bed, out of sight. I relied on my hearing and waited for the sound of the mattress shifting underneath him, the sheets sliding against each other. My head still buzzed with the drug and now the alcohol, but it was easier to pay attention with my eyes closed. Now that I could no longer see him, there was no reason to keep them open now anyway.
The lights turned off so the only illumination came from the fire. Master Lyon took a few more steps and I heard the blankets moving, but he didn’t lie down. Instead, he rounded the bed and circled back to me.
I sat up a little, watching him in the flames’ glow as he lay a pillow on the floor beside my cage and covered himself with nothing but the top sheet. The golden bars were just wide enough for him to reach in and touch me.
Appreciating the silent reassurance, I lay back down. We stayed like that a while, him rubbing my back before his fingers wove through mine.
My eyelids became heavier. I drifted, knowing sleep was the smart choice but not wanting to say goodbye to him just yet. Even if he was here in the morning, he would be different. So would I.
Fourteen
I woke the next morning as the door to our room opened. My arm still hung out the cage, but no one held it now. When I opened my eyes, the world spun and I needed a minute to compose myself. There were no pillows or sheets on the floor now. Master Lyon was gone.
I realized this in a matter of seconds and it took just as long for whoever had entered to unlock the door to my cage.
The grogginess immediately lifted and I shot to my hands and knees, backing away as far as I could in the limited space. I hadn’t even looked to see who it was; I just knew it wasn’t my Owner.
Mr. B, dressed in an all-black suit and tie, stooped down in front of me. “Breakfast, Miss,” he whispered as if I was still asleep.
Without waiting for me, he stood and went to wait for me by the table near the window.
I crawled out of my temporary prison with sore muscles and aching eyes. I kept the fur around me instinctively as I shuffled to a chair and sat.
Mr. B slid a tray towards me; toast, eggs, bacon, orange juice, and water. There was even a tiny glass vase holding a single rose. On top of the red cloth napkin were two pills: the one I recognized as the birth control I’d taken nearly all my life an
d the other was a clear capsule with a white powder inside. Mr. B walked across the room to stoke the remaining embers in the fire and I didn’t notice he was standing beside me again until he spoke.
“It’s called Cerberus,” he said, only looking at the tray in front of me. “Master Jäger created it. Take it after you’ve bathed and dressed; it’s strong.”
He spoke matter-of-factly, no professional mask or polite gestures. He had shut down in that way. I was no one to him and that was the only way he could do this.
“I will be drawing you a bath while you eat, Miss,” he said, swiftly walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. Moments later, I heard water running.
I stared at the pills on the table, then the food, not knowing where or how to start. To give myself some time to process these things, I picked up my napkin and unfolded it in my lap. As I did so, something fell out of it and fluttered to the floor.
I froze, unsure of what this could mean or if it was even real. Then I bent down to retrieve the envelope that was concealed in the fabric. I needed to think about this logically, but my thoughts were muddy and it was hard to trudge through them. This was a letter. A letter meant a message. Whoever had made sure it had gotten to me took the time to hide it in a way that made it inconspicuous to the cameras. There were none pointed at the table at the right angle to get a view of my lap, and no one would be the wiser if I ate my meal with my head bowed like a good little slave. It hadn’t been Mr. B; he would know about the lack of recording devices and just would have told me whatever it was he needed to say.
Too afraid to inspect what lay in my lap now, I tried to distract myself by taking small bites of my food, not tasting anything. The longer I stayed there without looking at it, the more nervous I became. I had something no one like me was supposed to have: communication between Members without the permission of my Owner.
Finally, I gave up and tore into the white envelope, hands shaking too much to do it gracefully.
I didn’t know what I was expecting, but the message was brief:
Our petals will be trampled no longer
—The Chaos
Underneath, there was a scribbled depiction of a rose in red ink. I hadn’t noticed until now, as I unfolded the napkin automatically, searching for more of an answer, that a letter opener had been included in this clandestine package.
At first I thought it odd; it was hard enough sneaking a letter—albeit a cryptic one—to someone in this situation, let alone an unnecessary tool to open it. But as I looked closer, gripping the slender, flat, almost file-like instrument had been sharpened to a point that didn’t appear natural. It was sharp enough to prick skin. To draw blood.
The bathroom door opened and I scrambled to cover up the weapon as well as the letter. Mr. B came back into the room, almost casually picking up my tray of uneaten food and setting is aside as he leaned against the edge of the table. I realized now that he would have been in direct line with the camera Master Lyon had found in the Wolf’s mouth; he was intentionally blocking it.
He motioned with his fingers for the napkin and trembling, I handed him back all of it. I wanted to tell him that there wasn’t any need to communicate without words, choreographing our movements so whoever was watching didn’t suspect anything. However, I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t make any of this make sense.
“Here you are, Miss,” he said, handing me the pills and the orange juice. I could do nothing but take them, in shock and convinced I was hallucinating.
“Your clothing is hanging in the bathroom,” he said, taking the tray, napkin, and letter opener with him as he neared the fire just so he could destroy the letter while standing in front of it. “I’ll help you into it after your bath. I’m going to drop this back at the kitchen and then I’ll be back.”
I also watched him slip the letter opener into his pocket.
Then he disappeared out the door, leaving me at the table with nothing. Maybe the drugs from the day before had messed with my mind and made me see things that weren’t there, believe things that I shouldn’t hope could be true. I didn’t know how long I sat there, but I jolted out of my seat when I felt a hand on my shoulder, toppling the chair to the hard floor with a clatter that sounded much louder than it probably was.
Mr. B turned me to face him, and I couldn’t take his blank gaze anymore. “There aren’t any cameras or recorders,” I whispered anyway. “Master Lyon got rid of them.”
He held me steady, searching my face. “It’s all right,” he said, bending slightly to pick up the fur that had fallen with the chair and wrapping it around my shoulders. “I’ve got you.”
He waited for me to catch my breath before he held me at arm’s length.
“Only a little while longer,” Mr. B said, leading me to the bathroom.
I stared at the floor as he took away the fur, expecting me to undress and climb into the tub, which had steam rising from it and bubbles on the surface. “What’s going on?” I whispered, still too afraid to speak at full volume. I wanted to ask more; was he in on this? What did this mean?
He squared my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “I told you I wasn’t leaving you. Remember?”
I nodded, unable to do much else. It still didn’t explain anything, and I couldn’t allow myself to fully hope this was true with whatever awaited me downstairs.
He reached into his pocket, took out the improvised weapon, and wrapped my fingers around it. “You’re right,” he said as if I’d made some point. “No bath. Just let me help you get dressed.”
My head spun, but as he stepped to a hook on the wall and the black garment back hanging from it, all I could think about was the sharpened blade in my hand, how it glinted in the light and how my knuckles ached when I squeezed the handle. That was all I needed to know right now. I could protect myself. I could survive.
Mr. B produced a plain black garter belt similar to the one I’d worn the night before, stockings, black, lacey underwear and matching bra, and a black satin corset that would only wrap around my middle, pushing my modest chest closer to my collarbone.
I didn’t move. “Let me help you.”
When I looked at him, I could tell he wanted to say more, but he held back whatever it was.
Guiding me closet to the items I was to wear, he let me walk at my own pace. He didn’t undress me, instead opting to let me lean on him and stay somewhat covered as he dressed me in the corset and I slipped on the new underwear and tights. He took the liberty of hooking the garter belt to the stockings and tightening the corset’s ribbons.
“Can you breathe?” he asked.
“Y-yes,” I stammered, realizing I hadn’t said a single syllable in a long time.
He tenderly rubbed my back and it was as if he’d lit up the part of me that still belonged to Master Lyon after today. At least that thought was comforting. There weren’t many others.
Then, stepping behind me and reaching across my newly-bound stomach, he wrapped his fingers around mine and the letter opener, taking it from my hand. Both arms around me, he carefully severed just enough of the delicate threads, which held a length of boning in place.
“I’m afraid this might be a little uncomfortable,” he said, and I remained completely still.
Just underneath my left breast, he used two fingers to extract the boning. Moving only slightly, he placed the curved plastic into the garment bag. Finally, he slipped the slightly larger strip of metal into the hole. It was heavier now, but he’d made it so no one could see any protrusions or the broken seam.
Mr. B stepped around to face me, running a careful finger over the spot to make sure it was completely concealed. “Just in case you need it.”
Was this it? Was this my rescue, or the last time I’d see any of them?
Silently, he opened the small makeup bag he’d brought with the clothing and found a brush, which he ran gently through my hair until it was smooth. He seemed to be taking extra care, dragging it out like he wasn
’t ready to leave me on my own. I stilled his hand and he understood; there wasn’t a point in stalling.
He cleared his throat. “Master Lyon has been granted private goodbyes, Miss Doe.”
I would have gasped if the corset allowed it, but all I accomplished was sending a sharp pain through my ribs. He had gone back to calling me by my Owner’s name for me. He had gone back to being the butler of Lyon Estate.
I stood with my mouth open, words begging to leave but becoming choked. Mr. B placed his hands on my shoulders, staring into my eyes. Too soon, he let me go, disappearing out into the hall and closing me in alone again.
Whether it was the letter, the news, or the drugs kicking in, I wasn’t sure, but the room began to revolve around me, the floor unreliable under my bare feet. My knees gave out and I collapsed in a kneeling position.
The door opened again not long after that, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t look.
“Doe,” my Owner whispered before he shut the door behind him and came closer. He held my hands in an attempt to help me to my feet but I jerked away. I’d known from the beginning it was a bad idea to lean on him. It made it so when he walked away, it would hurt that much more when I fell.
I stood on my own and he took the time to brush my knees of nonexistent dust before he finally tilted my head upwards so I would look at him.
The eyes that stared back at me were more than forlorn, too intense to be sad. I could see the fear in them too; how torn he felt.
Pushing Mr. B’s words and the letter out of my mind, forgetting about the weapon in my clothing even as it pressed into my ribcage, I searched his face for anything that would indicate some promise that he would return—that the Chaos was real and we wouldn’t have to wait; I could be free by this afternoon.
