Trace

Six

The smell of roast beef was driving Trace crazy. She'd been scrubbing away at the floor for two hour's now and the fact that Allivan was still having dinner with his guests was getting on her nerves. So was the fact that she wasn't allowed to eat anything.

There was an upside, though. Another girl, about her age, had been brought by one of his guests- a middle-aged man of Asian decent with golden skin and narrow, shifting eyes who she'd heard been called Yang- back to Allivan, after the man had 'borrowed' her. The girl was tall, with pretty features and orange-red hair cut to her shoulders. Her face was flushed a little and her smile was thin but kind, giving her a rosy glow and making her green eyes stand out.

But that was nearly two hours ago- directly after she'd brought the seemingly endless platters of food from the kitchen on the other side of the house. Now, as she scrubbed the same spot for the fifth time, Trace was beginning to think that Allivan just wanted her in room to show her off. The floor was already clean when they'd entered. It was now so perfectly cleaned, she could see her reflection in the metallic floor.

She didn't get a chance too look because a cold, meaty hand lifted her too her feet and started pushing her out the door. It was Yang, not Allivan. She saw her master out of the corner of her eye.

"Trace, thank-you for dinner." Yang's voice was harsh and cold as he pushed her out into the hallway. She turned in time to see the door closing and hear the last echo of his words. "But now, your master and I must converse. Good-bye."

The silence afterwards was haunting. Trace stood their awkwardly, holding a dripping cloth in one hand and a damp sponge in the other. The water was seeping through her pants and slowly creeping through her gloves. She sighed. Guess I should go back to my room now. There's not much point hanging around.

Trace turned around and just missed running into the red-haired girl.

She was watching Trace intently, her green eyes wide and curious. She didn't say anything, just beckoned with her hand and took off down the hall. Trace stared at her. The girl stopped, as if sensing this, before cocking her head and beckoning again.

"I have no choice, do I?" Trace asked and the girl grinned, shaking her head.

Feeling a smile of her own start to form on her lips, Trace followed after the girl, a trail of water drops behind her.

***

"What's you're name, by the way?" Trace asked, splashing her face with cold water.

The pair had returned to the room Trace felt inclined to call 'her room', making their way through the endless halls at a pace Trace felt impossible to achieve even after years of living in the house. Almost as soon as they'd entered the room, the girl had closed and locked the door, stringing sheets from the two beds up to bar sight from the windows on the other side of the house. She had insisted on the lights being kept off and now, as Trace stared at the girl through the mirror in the tiny conjoined bathroom, she knew why.

The girl glowed.

"Glint." she said, her voice laced with kindness and amusement at the look on Trace's face. "And you?"

"Trace." She replied, shaking her head and turning her attention to her reflection. She didn't remember the last time she'd seen herself; it would have definitely been before the Thor incident. Before she became a slave.

She wasn't what she'd pictured. She had deep, chocolaty hair that fell down her shoulders and into her eyes, stringy and hardened in places. She had eyes that stood out against her skin, blue against creamy peach. Sand scratched patterns against her cheeks where she hadn't washed properly, giving her a street urchins appearance. She didn't remember the last time she'd had a shower to actually clean her body but that didn't matter. At least she knew what she looked like now.

"That's a pretty name." Glint's voice brought Trace out of her thoughts and she turned fully this time.

"Thanks, I guess." Trace smiled thinly at her. "At least you have an idea of what your name actually means."

"Is that any better than not knowing?" She replied, sitting down on her bed and looking Trace square in the eye. "After all, the mystery is what makes it fun."

Trace grinned properly this time, taking a seat on the other bed. The glow Glint was emitting was golden, comforting and warm, like a hot meal filling your stomach and a comfortable bed to sleep on. It reminded her of her mother's hugs, her arms enveloping her small self and pulling her into her mother's familiar body. It was comforting and...reassuring. Mum's hugs were always reassuring- as if too say nothing in the world could ever harm me. And look where that got me- orphaned and a slave to some man who uses me as a housemaid.

A small creak caught Trace's attention and her eyes snapped towards the opposite bed. Glint had shifted to peek through the make-shift curtains, the bare mattress squeaking and groaning with every tiny movement. Trace moved to look out as well, her eyes scanning the horizon and farthest part of the house. Nothing caught her eye but it was obvious Glint was nervous.

"What's wrong?" She asked, sitting back to lean on the wall.

Glint jumped and sheepishly looked at Trace. "Sorry- I forgot I wasn't alone." Trace nodded, sympathetically. She knew what it was like to live alone and how hard it was too readjust. "And to answer your question- yes, there is. And it involves your life."
Trace stared at her, confused. "What do you mean my-"

"Trace." Glint said. "You're going to be murdered."