Chapter IV -- A Humbling Prelude to Hygiene
Thirty-Seven was right. My stomach has shrunk. It took some time to find the bread in this darkness, and by the time I did, my hunger had faded. I took only one bite, chewing slowly to savor its rich fennel flavor and only reluctantly washing it down with a few sips of water.
Now I wait, but I know not what for. The waiting is torture in and of itself. In the darkness, my mind paints pictures of the life I left behind. I imagine my mother and father, both proud and concerned. Allura is no doubt already dreaming of the riches and scheming of ways to spend them for me. On my Emancipation Day, I'm sure her smile will be the biggest—and falsest—of them all.
Emancipation. A thought I had dreaded. It seems strange now to be afraid of freedom, now that I have realized my childish dream was just that. I was a fool to think that Master Twelve would love me as I have loved him. How could he? To him, I am just another plaything--a conglomeration of parts for his amusement. Not a person, but a thing that doesn't mind being locked away in the dark when not in use.
I should have listened to Allura. I am not good enough to be a Tithe. Not only weak and without purpose, but also immature and idealistic. This household has no place for a toy that is already broken, and that is what I am--a defective rag doll that no one would want to play with. What I saved as a gift for my Master isn't fit for a farm slave.
I hear the lock rattle outside. Are they coming to take me to the farm already? Or will it be straight to the village brothel to be bound to a pommel horse, kept oiled so that I am always ready to accept the cock of any man with a coin in his pocket who doesn't mind looking at a wooden box instead of a lover's face?
The door opens and the gaslights flare to life. I curl into the corner and hide my face.
"You poor girl," says a soft baritone voice. "You've no need to hide from me."
His footfalls are soft and as he approaches, the scent of lavender fills my nostrils. I chance a look.
"My! You are the pretty one," he says as he stretches his slender torso. "Come now. Let me have a better look at you, please."
He laughs. A gentle, warm sound. "Didn't think you'd hear that word again, did you?"
His smile sets me at ease. Almost. "How am I to address you?"
"My name is Eighty-Eight. I am your groomer," he says. "You should address me simply as 'sir.' Not that it bothers me personally, but I must insist that you refer to yourself as 'this girl.' It really is in your best interest to get in the habit of it."
"Yes, sir," I say. "This girl is sorry."
"It's alright, Two Seventy-Six," he says and pats me gently on the head. He looks at his palm with disgust, pulls a cloth from his pocket and begins to wipe his hand as he walks away. "What isn't alright is the state of your hair. When is the last time you bathed?"
"This girl cannot remember, sir."
"Well, that is something we shall have to remedy," he says. "Now, come here so that I may get a better look at you."
I like this man. I want to please him, so I try to remember all of the instructions Thirty-Seven gave me regarding the proper way to crawl. His smile widens as I approach him.
"Very good, Two Seventy-Six," he says. "You're a quick study. Now stand for me."
I do. He gently takes my face in his hand and turns it first left, then right.
"Nice bone structure," he says. He runs his hand down my neck to my chest. "I just wish I couldn't see so much of it."
He looks me in the eye. I look away.
"Now don't you worry," he says and reaches into his belt pouch. He unfolds a small gray paper, revealing a small, blackish ball. "Close your eyes and open your mouth, girl."
He places the ball on my tongue and it is heaven. Pure, melting heaven. I don't know what this is called, but I like it.
"Ahh... you should do that more often," he says. "Ghandrillian chocolate always makes me smile, too."
Am I smiling? Yes. Amazingly, this gentle man has found a way to make me smile, even through this.
"Not a word of this to anyone. It's very expensive and Tithes aren't technically allowed to have it. I only wish it wasn't so fattening," he says, "but in your case... those mindless train guards! I doubt they even once stop to think of what difficult work they make for me."
Reluctantly, I swallow the chocolate, trying to memorize the sensation. Good memories seem hard to come by in this place. "Thank you, sir. It was delicious. This girl won't speak of it to anyone."
"I know you won't," he says. "If for no other reason than you believe there is more where that came from."
I hadn't even considered that. Though I like the thought of more chocolate, I don't like the thought that this man might believe my desire for more is the only thing that will keep my silence. Is that how things are here? Does no one do anything simply because it is the right thing to do? I shake the thought from my head. I have to believe this man's kindness is his nature, not merely his job.
"Now kneel for me," he says. "It's time to get you clean."
I kneel and he fixes a worn, red leather collar around my neck, attaches a chain leash and locks both into place. "This is just a training collar. It's seen better days. I'm sure Master will have a much nicer one for you at your ceremony."
Master Twelve. My Master. "When will that be, sir?"
