Slavery

Alana stared at her master with the hardest eyes that she could muster. Standing at the end of the bed, he had been staring at her for what felt like hours. She couldn't read his emotion; his face was a blank except for his eyes, but Alana didn't know if it was anger, sadness, or something else entirely. When the doctor entered, Alana's master visibly flinched. Alana hated not knowing what to call him anymore, hated not knowing his name.

The doctor, he was another matter. The man last night had specifically mentioned his name. If he were to continue to give her language lessons, Alana would have to play this carefully, she couldn't afford to endanger herself again so quickly. Last night had been a huge mistake, one that had nearly cost her life. Alana doubted that she would get to go home anytime soon, doubted that she would even find a way, but she still had hope. Running away was not an option until she knew more about this planet, she realised that now. Trying to communicate Jaron's part in the incident would surely get her killed.

"Azeric?" Alana forced the word from her mouth. Knowing its meaning left it hard to say, and left her gut clenching. The worst thing, though, was that he completely ignored her. He spoke to Jaron who happily lifted the covers from Alana, running a loving finger over the hasty stitches that he had administered last night. Alana knew that a world of pain was in front of her this morning; the treatments had been temporary, and Jaron would have to cleanse and close the wounds properly today. When Jaron handed Alana a bitter tasting drink she was grateful. The effects of it soon took hold, and the world that she was in suddenly seemed very far away. She wasn't unconscious, and could feel stitches being tugged uncomfortably from her stomach wound, but was able to focus her mind elsewhere.

Unfortunately, Alana's mind drifted to a place that she really didn't want to go to. Alana was back in the cemetery, the sun blazing overhead. It wasn't right, that sun. In films, she thought, it was always raining at a funeral. FUNERAL. Someone had once pointed out to her that you could rearrange the letters to spell REAL FUN. That was playing on her mind today, it was all that she could think of. What a sick, sick joke.

Alana walked, and walked. Sweat trickled down her back and between her breasts. She desperately wanted to avoid the fresh mounds of dirt that were behind her, and instead played a little game with herself. She would look at the names on the headstones, look at the dates, and imagine a whole life for the corpse rotting beneath her. After a while, Alana could almost smell the decaying bodies, could imagine them shifting in the earth, turning and fidgeting. It was when images came to her mind of bony fingers clawing to escape that Alana fell to her knees on the hard ground, hands over her ears, tears streaming down her cheeks. The reverend found her like that. He took her to the small church, and made her tea. He had asked Alana if there was anyone he could call, and when she had shaken her head he hadn't looked surprised. There had been no one else to help bury them, after all.

Alana reached up clumsily to wipe at the ghost of tears, and was shocked to find them really there. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was only just over two weeks since that day in the cemetery. Jaron's face came into focus above her, and for once she was grateful to seem him. Alana listened as her master said something to Jaron.

"He is leaving. You will see him in ninety nights." Alana was puzzled for the moment. It was abrupt, to the point, but didn't really explain anything. Her master was leaving, and she didn't even know his name. Panic made her bold.

"Why is he leaving?"

"If you can't work it out, slave, then it isn't my place to say." That led Alana to wonder if he was leaving because of her.

"What is his name?" Jaron opened his mouth to reply, but Alana's master beat him to it. He conversed with Jaron, sighing for a moment.

"Kalen." When Alana looked blankly back into his red eyes, he pointed to the doctor, then her. "Jaron, Alana." He pointed back to himself, "Kalen."

"Kalen?" Alana tested the word uncertainly, and received confirmation from Jaron. As far as names went, she much preferred Azeric. Kalen didn't sound as powerful and commanding, which Alana supposed was appropriate. No, she was loathe to call anyone master; Kalen would do just fine.

"Alana, I will be here every day to help you with the comprehension of our language. Your master leaves in several minutes. You may wish to say goodbye, whilst I instruct Mia on the care you are to receive until tomorrow."

Alana glanced at Kalen, completely confused as to what was expected of her. Her whole body throbbed, and she wasn't sure that she could get out of bed. She was somewhat relieved when he came over to her, and kissed her quickly on the head. He looked like he wanted to speak with her, but just sighed in frustration. When he left the room, Alana burst into tears. Her world had been turned upside down so many times in the last month, Kalen leaving felt like the last straw. On this world, he was all that she knew.

For the rest of the day, Alana was left to mope in bed. Mia brought her painkillers, food and water, but did nothing else to keep her company. Alana had endless time to think about her predicament. She came to several conclusions though, and by the time the sun was setting she felt a lot happier. She was on an alien planet with no way to get home, but home was pretty much gone anyway. She would have to make a home here. With that in mind, she resolved to make friends with Mia. Kalen was gone, but that left her three months to improve her language skills, and to become the 'slave' he wanted. That way, he might keep her. Alana had decided that it was 'better the devil you know'. The real quandary had been the doctor. Jaron freaked her out, but so far had not hurt her. His fellow doctor, the man whom Kalen had conveniently consumed had implied that he would like to, but there was no way of knowing if last night's attack was due to Jaron. The issue of Kalen eating the heart of a man was something that she was desperately concerned about, but Alana decided to leave that issue until a later date. It didn't mean that he would eat her. Probably.

It was three weeks until Alana learned that Kalen had left to fight for Zeve. In all of the weeks of not knowing, Alana had worried that he was being punished for her behaviour. The first week with him gone had been awful. Alana had been bed bound until Jaron announced her injuries healed. The methods that he used were highly effective; after a week all that was left were thin, pale scars. Alana was glad she had them though. In moments of fancy, she would imagine escaping to freedom. Her scars were there to ground her, and to remind her that chopping up little humans seemed to be a pastime for two out of the ten or so natives that she had met. When considering the odds, avoiding being dissected whilst alive was not looking like a possibility.

As well as her largely uneventful, daily language lesson from Jaron, once Alana was deemed fit Mia had been doing her best to tutor her as well. Mia had taken Alana everywhere with her, and insisted on pointing to, and naming everything. Alana really enjoyed trips to the market, and to visit Mia's friends, although, apart from carrying the groceries, she suspected that it was to ensure Alana didn't try to run again. After their morning excursion, Alana's day was mostly repetitive. She was generally left to her own devices, and would be shooed out of a room if she tried to help Mia to clean or cook. Alana decided that she would try to teach herself to read, a largely impossible task. Jaron would help occasionally, but he was rarely in good enough cheer. The symbols that passed for writing looked annoyingly similar, and Alana had forgotten the ones that Kalen had taught her. In the end, she spent so much time thinking about Earth that it was depressing.

It was during one of her formal language lessons that Alana decided to ask Jaron a little more about Kalen.

"Why is everyone here so afraid of him?" Jaron glared at Alana for interrupted him mid explanation, but he clearly couldn't miss an opportunity to taunt her.

"There are many reasons, slave; your master's race are mighty and vicious, they rarely have mercy for anyone."

"Please, Jaron, explain." Even to her own ears, Alana's voice sounded exasperated.

"You saw that your master ate my associate's heart after he killed him. That is one reason. As in sex, they believe that they should consume fluids, this time of the fallen. It is a way to obtain the strength of the enemy. It is a sacred practice of theirs that we find abhorrent."

"Do they like all bodily fluids?" Alana enquired, thinking about Kalen's refusal of a blow job. She blushed, and Jaron scowled.

"It is the blood. Why do you turn that hideous shade?"

"Do you know why he would refuse to receive oral sex? He happily gives it..." At the risk of offering too much information, Alana paused. Jaron actually look thoughtful, and paused before answering.

"It is a practice that their women hate, they believe that the semen is extremely unpleasant, and find the act demeaning. It is often used as a punishment, but it is odd that he would not allow you to demean yourself. Most of the men of his race enjoy forcing the act upon their slaves, although I doubt many have humans. Perhaps you are merely too small. As for goving it, that is more astounding. It is often given as a reward, yet I see nothing that would deserve one." The last words were said with a sneer. Alana considered the information, the smiled to herself. Surely that showed that Kalen cared, in some odd way. Lately she had wondered if he would sell her on his return because of her previous behaviour, but she prayed that he would keep her. She couldn't imagine any other owners putting up with her, and with him gone she was feeling sentimental.

"There is one other thing that we fear them for." Alana was puzzled; this was the first time that Jaron had voluntarily expanded upon an answer without her probing. "Their race conquered ours, and took many of our women as slaves. They were peaceful for the most part, and treated us well, but the slaves suffered. Their women had fallen prey to a disease that killed many, and left more infertile. The men needed to reproduce, as the disease had ravaged them for decades, leaving few children. Let us say that mating with their race did not end well for the slaves. Of course, they have a cure now, but we are wary."

"Why did it not end well?" Alana thought that Jaron was being very cryptic, purposely so.

"I have a feeling that you will come to understand the reasons, sooner rather than later." With that, Jaron took his leave. Alana was annoyed and puzzled, but didn't work up the courage to ask more on his next visit. The idea was soon pushed from her mind. Jaron was often cruel, although he didn't physically harm her, and she put it down to another meaningless taunt.

It was with only ten days to go until Kalen's return that Alana started to worry. As she had clambered out of the bathing pool that morning, Alana had been surprised to see Mia. At first, she had watched her bathe every day, but now that she trusted her, Mia largely allowed her time alone. Mia had studied her naked body across the room, and Alana had watched her visibly pale as her eyes came to rest on Alana's stomach. Alana looked down herself, and realised that she was starting to get a little rounder. She had never been slim, but thought that she had been losing weight. She had certainly lost her appetite, especially in the afternoons, and evenings. In fact, she had been feeling very nauseas around those times, and had put it down to lessons with Jaron, and the heat.

Alana met Mia's eyes as the old lady strode towards her. Mia's hand touched her tentatively, then grasped her wrist. There was only the one mirror in the house, and Alana knew that she was being taken to it. As she walked, she considered when her last period had been. Earth. It hadn't seemed too strange that she hadn't bled here, in fact, she had completely forgotten that she should have had several by now.

Standing before the mirror, Alana was shocked. She had lost weight, certainly. Her face was pale, her cheeks a little hollowed, and her eyes had black smudges under them. She hadn't been sleeping well for a while, but again had but it down to the heat. Her stomach had a soft curve to it, nothing that stood out under her clothes, but turning to the side she realised that it was definitely pregnancy, and not fat. Alana took a shuddering gasp, and turned to Mia.

"Don't tell Jaron, not yet." Mia nodded. As Alana's language had developed, she had discovered that Mia didn't think much of the doctor, either.

"Kalen won't be happy, Alana. You must prepare yourself for his sadness." Alana nodded, dumbly. She didn't ask why, she didn't care. She was pregnant. What the hell was she going to do now?

That night, all Alana could do was think of her mother. How often had she joked about not being a grandmother too young, when secretly that was what she longed for? Alana knew that her pregnancy would have thrilled her mother, or at least it would have done if it had been a human baby. She remembered that Jaron had referred to a possible child as 'a bastard, half breed.' That would be exactly what it was. Alana lay on her bed, sick to her stomach. How had she not noticed the signs? Yes, the morning sickness was in the afternoons, but that wasn't so unusual. One of her friends had been ill all day, every day. There was no excuse, she was an idiot.

Without meaning to, and for the first time in months, Alana thought back to why she had been taken as a slave. She remembered being pulled from the water after jumping from the bridge. She had been chastised for trying to waste her life, as if her suicide had been anyone else's business. In the cold, and through the shock, Alana hadn't noticed that her rescuer hadn't been human. Maybe, she thought, she should attempt to end it again. The thought made her weep. She couldn't, wouldn't risk the life of her baby, even if it was 'a bastard, half breed.' Her mother was dead, her brother, her father. Her fiancé had left her for her best friend. She had no family, except this baby. She had no home, but she was providing one for her child. Alana curled up under her blanket, hands on her stomach, her mind wondering back to her mother.

The day of the crash, Alana had been working. She was supposed to go out with her family, spend the day having a picnic and a catch up. The sunshine had been blazing, and she had been looking forward to it, but when work had called with overtime, she had snatched the opportunity. She was on her own now, and bills weren't cheap. The thought of Marcus had made her want to vomit, and there was nothing like work to help her forget.

The truck that had hit the car had faulty breaks. They died on impact, her father and brother, but not her mother. She had been trapped in the car for hours, and had died just before the rescue team could cut her out. Alana hadn't found out until it was all over. Kelly had taken the call at work, Kelly who had gone for lunch after a brief look for Alana. She had forgotten then anyone had called, and had subsequently been fired, but that would never give Alana back the chance to say goodbye.

Alone, Alana had found herself on the bridge, thinking of all the times she had been swimming with her brother. The funeral had been awful, and she had been as alone as she felt. There had been others there, friends of her family's, but they weren't really friends of hers. The water used to feel good, cleansing. She had thought about how good it would feel, so she had jumped, tried to end it all, and ended up in a slave house being sold. Now she was pregnant to a man who ate the hearts of his enemies.

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*Author's note: Sorry that this is a short chapter. I am going away for ten days, and will be without computer access. I am sharing what I have so far as I hate having to wait, so don't want to make you guys wait either! Please keep commenting, I enjoy reading feedback, and it gives me something to work on! Thanks, Alice xx*