Indentures (H 1.3)

He may be the leader of the Sippians, but Lucky is beginning to strike me as more of a clean freak than I imagined. With the paltry privacy he permits, I quickly unbuckle the black harness over my dress, taking a moment to wash off the blood from it, then unzip my dress under my arm and slip the straps from my shoulders. It clings to my legs where the blood saturated most completely and Kiwi's face flashes across my eyes - ashy skin, blank stare, head in my lap. If I weren't standing mostly naked in the kitchen of a gang leader who isn't hesitant to grab my hair, throw me to the floor, and name me one of his, I might dwell on the image longer.

But I've never been anything but a realist. I make quick work of cleaning some of the blood from my legs and stomach before I slip the yellow dress on. Suddenly I am the flag of the ship, there to flap in the wind, to be loudly visible from afar. It makes me wish I could slip into something black and sleek, something to make me a spider too swift for the human eye to track and too toxic to be touched.

I put my harness back on over the top of the dress, some semblance of arachnidian spirit to hold me together, and slip off my boots, knowing I walked in the pool of blood around Kiwi on my way to slap Lucky earlier. I'm sure the blood has worn away by now, but still, I hold onto them, unsure of what I should do with them.

I'm still for a moment as I consider grabbing my scalpel back, but I'm too convinced that Lucky has been sneaking glances at me to do it, so I say, "Okay. I'm...ready." Ready for what, I'm not sure.

This star-bathed room is a single drop of the purest water I can imagine suspended in time. Looking inside is looking into a dream. I’m glad now that I took my boots off.

I also understand now why it’s so quiet up here. Children are sleeping. Not that I ever had so peaceful a place to rest when I was young.

"I won’t disturb her," I whisper and I step into the room. I turn to Lucky and I almost thank him, but how could I? I’m a prisoner here, at best. Then I almost say goodnight, but there has been nothing good about tonight, apart, perhaps, from the fact that I am still alive.

Instead, I say only what I know to be true. "See you in the morning."

Speaking the words turns them into snapping dogs that whirl back and bite my heart, reminding me that none of this will go away in the morning. Nothing ever does. My gaze drops to the starlit carpet as I turn away.

I stop in the center of the space, clutching my boots to my chest and processing what happened to get me here. I stare out the window at the stars, a view I can't afford, drawn toward the edge of my prison as a moth to fire.

I press a hand to the cold glass. The glittering waters below and the unfamiliar buildings nearby strike a hollow note in my heart. This may be the farthest from home I’ve felt since my parents died. If I were still downstairs with Bristol, Karo and the others, I know I wouldn’t be this clean or comfortable, but the dangerous surroundings would have forced me to stay in the moment. Here? There’s too much space to think and I can’t stop the tsunami of emotion from washing over me. The stars outside blur as a thick wash of tears fills my eyes. I sniff and wipe them away as quickly as they fall, but more come to replace them.

I haven't prayed to anything or anyone since my parents died. I was four and my memories of them now are nothing more than a handful of hazy moments, a few sensations, the scent of water lilies and wet leather. After they died, I begged any god or power who would listen to let me see them, speak with them, hear their voices one more time. No one answered, and I know now that's because there was no one there to listen. But in this moment, there's something desperate inside of me, some silly fragment of that child. I stare at the stars and whisper, "Are you out there, Kiwi? Is there something better than this out there?"

You feel a chill wind blow across the back of your neck. You realize the windows here are closed...

Salem starts to stir in her too-big bed. She's waking up.

What do you do?

Kiwi's whisper makes my whole being go tense. Even my tears hold their breath and my chin stops quivering. There is a moment of relief at hearing his voice again, but then he tells me I brought him back from a beautiful Beyond.

I exhale a breath like I have been punched in the stomach. I am a Siren's call, seducing death's sailors back from their celestial seas. Salem stirs and I press my lips together holding in my despair. "I'm sorry," I whisper, quick and soft, hoping she doesn't wake further. "Go back. Go back. Be happy."

Oceans take me, now I've woken up the child. I hope Lucky doesn't count that as messing with her or a busted up elbow may be the least of my worries. I close my eyes, pulling tears back inside before I turn, moving over to the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," I whisper. "My name is Helix. Your, ah, cousin, Lucky Strike, he said I could sleep here tonight. Is that okay with you?"

"I won't," I assure her and I slip into the bed, laying as close to the edge as I would if I were here with Lucky himself. I should probably just let her go to sleep again, but I can't help myself from asking, "Does this happen a lot? You having..." Bristol's words from earlier echo in my mind - other slaves, "...guests stay over?"

I can guess easily enough what Lucky have guests now means, even if Salem can’t. I don’t back away when she reaches for my hair, but I don’t scoot closer either. I’m honestly not sure how to handle it.

"What are you doing?" I ask softly.

A part of me feels guilty for making Salem back off like she does, but so much of me is so full of feeling from everything that's unfolded tonight that I scarcely have room for another.

"Well, I'm sure she wants you to sleep in your own room now because you're such a big girl, right?"