Lament of the Slave

Chapter 62: Dinner

Will it hurt? How much? The death of the thief and the woman looked very painful, their screams still vivid in my mind. When I thought about it, I might have been glad my legs were pretty much numb, the pain I felt reduced. Even so, I could already feel the tingling in my feet, and it went slowly up to my waist as the man-eating moss started doing its job.

My throat trembled as I took a deep breath, making the sounds of a frightened animal. That was something I didn't want to be in my last moments. I wished I was strong in the face of my end, yet I couldn't stop the tears from flowing. I didn't want to be terrified, but I was...

"What the hell are you talking about, girl?" asked Deckard through the link, puzzled.

"Huh?" a muddled whimper escaped my throat. What was he asking about? The message for Enola? Most likely. Realizing that, I thought quickly about how to persuade him to deliver the message while I was still able to think. "I...I know we just met. I was just hoping..."

"You were hoping to die?" he asked me sternly.

Threw off by his question, I looked up at Deckard standing over me, hands in his pockets, like he's out for a walk and nothing was wrong here in the clearing.

"No, I don't want to die," I argued weakly, confused why he was asking me that when the moss was eating me. "Just..."

"Just what?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. But before I could find the right words, he squatted down next to me and poked my forehead. "Before you start crying to me about how you don't want to die, you should use your head and see what's really going on."

Use my head? "What?"

"Use your skills," he said slowly so that even my brain could understand. Still, he clarified. "Your perception skills, I'm pretty sure you have at least one."

He poked me again, and I instinctively growled at him. Deckard just smiled at my dare. "You know Rezso spoke pretty highly of you. I, on the other hand, thought you might have quite a bit of potential as a [Slave]. I've met my share of them, and the few who were able to break free from what they were, what they are, from prejudice, didn't do badly for themselves."

He paused and looked into my eyes. "From what I can see, you're halfway there. You have the will to break free from it all and become someone else, something more. But you still let yourself be bound by your past."

Was he fucking with me? Did he think I wanted to end up here?! What's more, become a slave again?!!

"Don't get your panties in a twist, girl," Deckard said when I started growling at him again, hurriedly adding. "Just a bad choice of words."

Yeah, terrible. It just reminded me I didn't have any panties on at the moment, and the remark about my past was even worse. They came for me, twice. It was my past that wouldn't let me go, not me who was unwilling. I wanted to become something other than what Dungreen made me. That's why I decided to risk my life in the labyrinth and not work in a brothel as a companion. All so I won't be just a [Slave].

But putting what was done to me behind me was a lot harder when my body was a constant reminder of what I'd been through, a warning of what was out there. So, come to terms with what happened to me? I just couldn't do that. Not yet.

"Ah, I see you get what I mean," said Deckard, poking me in the cheek.

Without growling at him this time, I simply nodded in response. Even though I understood what he meant, it was an issue I couldn't resolve now.

"Good. Just don't let yourself be shackled by your own mind, don't let your past drag you down. I'm sticking to that, and so far, it's working for me," he said with a shrug and poked my cheek again. "Now use your head, like you did when you fought that young mossbear."