Ch 13

“I wasn’t always a slave.” When Minge started speaking it was so late at night, I thought that I must be dreaming at first. She had been unresponsive for days with a vacant look in her eyes but tonight she had started crying and now after hours of sobbing gently she had begun to speak unprompted. “When I was a little girl I lived with my mommy and daddy. We didn’t have much, but we were happy. Then one day Daddy got sick and then it was just Mommy and me after that. She tried so hard but its hard for a poor woman to catch a break when her husband dies.”

            Minge seemed to be telling her story, she probably felt that she would die soon and wanted someone to know what had happened to her life. Even someone as lowly and insignificant as a slave. Of course, who else would care enough to listen to a slave’s story. “One year, Mommy started keeping men company for money. We had enough to eat now but I was always alone because she had to work. Then, one day she didn’t come home either. I tried an I tried to keep the house together until Mommy got back but I was too little, and men came saying we owed them money.” Silent tears were streaming down Minge’s face, glinting in the candlelight as she told her story, her face for once not turned towards the wall. “Finally, they came with the guards and the collar and made me a slave. I told them NO! I said I didn’t want to, but they forced me. Nobody cares what they do to you once they put the collar on. We aren’t even human anymore.”

           With this Minge started sobbing loudly and would not stop again for quite some time. I had fallen asleep before her sobs stopped and when the morning came again, she again had a blank stare glued to her face, looking for all the world as if the previous night had been a dream. As per usual, Silvan came into the basement where he made us sleep first thing in the morning, unlike most days however he did not immediately begin whipping Minge into position.

            “Good morning Minge” he said to her in a drawling, snide voice that was meant to make a mockery of kindness. “I’ve been thinking about you Minge. I have been thinking about how no matter what I do to you, you don’t seem to care anymore. Have you gone numb Minge?” His eyes were cold as he gazed down upon her on the floor. “Aren’t you excited Minge? I’ve been spending so much time thinking about how to make you interested in life again.” There was a pause as if Silvan was waiting for an answer. In the pause I risked raising my sight slightly in order to see what would happen next. Silvan’s elvish features were twisted cruelly as he looked down on Minge where she lay on the floor. “Since you no longer get excited to see me in the morning maybe you’ll respond better to another form of treatment. Teka come here.”

            Teka raised himself from his bowing position and walked over to his master’s side. “Strip her,” Silvan said to Teka coldly without a trace of emotion in his voice as if he was commanding water drawn from a well. As Teka reached for Minge she began to tremble slightly and Silvan began to look excited, pleased that he was finally able to elicit some response again from his favorite torture victim. Teka pulled the sack like clothes from Minge’s body inelegantly with the same stony look he always wore, not excited but simply a tool in his master’s hands. As she lay there naked, she began to gasp and hyperventilate, her eyes still not coming in to focus but her psyche not being able to handle what was happening to her.

            Silvan’s face was awash in sadistic pleasure as he saw how strong a reaction she was having. Her naked body was shivering against the cold stone as she gasped for air and without the simple coverings she always wore and awash in the light of Silvan’s magick lamp with its clear white light I became extremely aware of how emaciated her body was. Her ribs were all clearly visible under her chest and she had precious little chest to speak of, what with her body having consumed itself in order to stay alive. Her hands moved to cover her body, trying to maintain even a modicum of modesty. The elf began to laugh cruelly, hatred in his eyes. After a few more moments of staring down at the traumatized woman he deposited the morning bucket of gruel on the floor and left.

            As soon as he was out of sight Teka turned from the rest of the room and began to focus on the bucket of gruel, shoveling it into his mouth, with his hands as was the practice when one had no eating utensils. Minge reached out and grabbed her clothing, not putting it on but only using it to cover her naked body while she shook and sobbed in the dimness. I couldn’t help but to feel sorry for her as she lay there, cold and miserable in the knowledge that this would be her life until she was given the sweet release of death. Teka finished with the gruel and headed up the stairs. Beetle moved in on the pail and began to eat next. I walked over to Minge. “I’m sorry,” I said to her gently, “He is needlessly cruel, someone must have done something awful to him once.” She turned her head to the side and wouldn’t meet my gaze. When Beetle finished eating, I once again left her my portion, hoping that the extra food would help her recover even a little.

            After that I went up the stairs behind Beetle and prepared to start the day. My legs were already aching in anticipation of the weight of the hammers being strapped to my feet, and here I was just getting used to how sore my body is all the time. It seems like every time my body gets a little bit stronger, some fresh torment comes along to make me sore again. Oh well, at least I have it better than Minge.

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