* * * * six years later * * * *
I draw back the curtains, and sunlight floods the room. "Time to get up," I announce.
Rebecca groans and pulls the blanket over her head.
I peel it back. "It's almost noon."
She clamps her arm over her eyes. "Humans need more sleep," she mumbles through a yawn.
"You need eight hours, not eighteen." My foot lands in a pile of clothes on the floor. I bend down and pull her scarf out of the mess.
"You're already late for class," I begin, "If you're not on that computer in the next ten seconds, no more staying up past 1 AM."
She crawls out of bed and stumbles over to her desk. Her laptop lights up, and she pulls the headset over her messy hair.
I can just barely hear the teacher's voice. She can see him over the livestream, but he can't see her. For all he knows, she's just a normal parbeing teenager.
I grab her jeans from the clothes pile and thread them through a hanger. The wardrobe bursts open as I unclip the latch. It's stuffed with clothes, and I don't see any room for the jeans in my hand.
My gaze lands back on her. She's taking diligent notes as the teacher writes on the board. I'll just pick something old to throw away.
I run my fingers through the hangers of shirts, pants, dresses, jerseys and coats. I pick out an old hoodie and hang the jeans in its place. It's my old hoodie, the one I sewed smaller so it would fit her back when she was eleven.
I hold it up next to her. It's strange imagining that she used to fit into this tiny thing. She's shot up like a weed, taller than her mother and only half a head shorter than me.
I clip the wardrobe closed and head for the door with the hoodie in hand.
"Wait," she calls from her desk. "Where are you going with that?"
"Throwing it away. It's junk."
She hops off her chair and takes it from me. "I want to keep it."
"It's far too small, and you've got barely enough room for your actual clothes."
She snatches a dress from the wardrobe and hands it to me. "Then take that." She lays the hoodie on the bed and ever so carefully folds it into a square.
I bought this dress for her just a few months ago. "No new clothes until you make some room." I tuck it back in the wardrobe and leave her to study.
* * * * * * * *
"Hey Rob," she draws out my name.
"Mm?" I answer, not taking my eyes off my laptop.
"Can we go to Gwandanas for dinner?" she asks.
I fill in the last line of the report and email it to head office. My gaze lands on her, and I raise an eyebrow. "Three times in one week?"
"I like the food," she shrugs.
"I think you like the human waiters," I say with a smirk.
"No, I just like the food," she blurts out, and her face goes beet red.
"Then Gwandanas takeout it is." I start dialling their number.
"Okay fine! You're right. Can we please go there?" She pulls the biggest eyes she can.
Wearing my victory smile, I grab my things, and we get going.
Soon we're seated at Gwandanas, and a human teenager takes our order. Rebecca's eyes are locked on her menu. She can barely look up when he asks her what she wants to eat.
"Something wrong?" I ask after he leaves.
"No," she squeaks, watching him from the corner of her eye. "He's just really cute."
"You're also really cute," I say. "Go talk to him."
She tries to hide her smile. "But what if he doesn't like me?"
"He's a teenage boy. He'll like you."
"How do you know?" she asks.
"Because I was a teenage boy once too, you know."
Regaining her confidence, she stands up and approaches the boy. Soon they're talking, and it seems to be going smoothly.
Our meal is served, and I take my time eating. Rebecca's laughing at the bar, no doubt enchanted by the human servers. I'll bring her food home for later. It's important that she gets a chance to socialise with her own kind.
A couple hours pass before I tap her on the shoulder. "It's midnight. Bedtime," I say.
Her face flashes red when her new friends hear she has a bedtime. I wait for her by the door. She hugs the boys and says goodbye.
We walk side-by-side along the dark street. "You won't believe what happens in that restaurant," she begins.
"Oh yea?" I say.
"There was a guy who got so drunk that he couldn't even remember his own name!"
"What? That must be made up."
"It's true. He couldn't walk either. He was too heavy to move so they just had to leave him on the floor."
"Was it-" A knock on my side sends me flying. My arms break my fall as I hit the paving. A heavy man lands on top of me, knocking the air out of my lungs.
His hands jab into my pockets.
"I'll shoot!" Rebecca screams. The man scrambles to get off. It takes me a minute to regain my bearings. Two men flee the scene, and Rebecca's holding her gun.
Her eyes are locked on the running men. Once they're far enough away, she tucks it back in place under her coat.
She kneels by my side, and her eyes scan my body for injuries.
I try push myself up, but the cuts on my hands make me cringe.
She helps me to my feet. My wallet is lying on the ground. They were trying to mug me, and Rebecca's threat sent them running.
This is why I gave her my gun. Nobody thinks a parbeing is crazy enough to arm their human slave, yet alone teach them to shoot. She's my secret weapon, an emergency line of defence.
"I'm calling an ambulance," she says, grabbing her phone.
"No." I push it away. "It's just a scratch."
"You don't know-"
"I know," I interrupt her.
She stares at me with worried eyes. "Believe me," I continue, "I've survived much worse than a little scratch. I'll be fine." I crack a small smile, and her expression lightens.
"More like barely survived," she says.
"You're not getting out of your bedtime that easy." I dust myself off, and we continue home.
* * * * * * * *
"Ow!" I hiss as she works on my hand.
"Almost done," she says. She pins the bandage in place before letting me pull away. Both my palms are neatly wrapped.
She plops onto the couch beside me. "I'll stay here in case you need anything."
I raise an eyebrow. "Nice try. It's bedtime, young lady."
She lets out a breath. I hold my gaze until she heads for her room.
"By the way," she says before closing the door. "Check, and checkmate in three moves."
I whip around to face the chessboard. What? I scan the board from top to bottom.... three moves!?
~ ~ ~ The End ~ ~ ~
Author's Note:
This was just a bonus chapter to give a peek into their lives a few years later. I hope the ending wasn't too abrupt... The story was about Rob growing from seeing the girl as his slave to seeing her as his daughter, which concluded in the last chapter when he made the promise to her mother.
- Cre
YOU ARE READING
From Chains
FantasyI'm working every waking hour. You'd think that smuggling would pay better, but nothing has been easy since the war. I can't go on like this. I need someone to take the load off my shoulders. I need a slave. --- Robert has had nothing handed to him...
