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Xavier's wife arrives two day's later. She's pretty, enough, with long brown hair, and deep eyes. Lanky, but graceful. Everything a wife should be. Everything I could have been.

       "And you are?" She asks me, boredom leaking through her voice. This woman reminds me of a gazelle, trapped and impatient.

        "My name is-"

        "She's a slave. Your's." Xavier interrupts. Names are of no importance here. He sits me on a turquoise chair, with more force than necessary. His wife, Angela, inspects me for a mere moment.

        "Follow me, then. You may help me unpack." She doesn't seem like awful bad of a person. I fold her clothes into the golden dresser as she brushes her hair.

       Xavier opens the large door, making a thin echo.

        "Angela, it's dinner time. Katelyn, you can clean the rooms," Xavier says. I nod slowly.

I have finished Angela's new room, and have started on Xavier's, when he walks in, his eyes are downcast.

        "She's perfect," he says, biting his lip in a way that's almost cute. It's as if his dark shell has melted revealing a human. 

        "That's good," I give him a kind smile. He looks up, just noticing my presence.

        "I didn't know you were here," he say, his voice lowered an octave. Xavier waves in the air as if a large wind had caught him.

        "You told me to clean," I remind. 

         "I know what I said." Silence hangs in the air like mist. We hold each other's gaze before he collapses on the bed, his arms held in mock surrender.

        "It's just... I don't feel any chemistry," He motions for me to sit down on the large mattress with him. He smells of vodka and lime, his movement jerky and forced.

        "I'm sorry," I say with honest sympathy, " I should get going. If people saw us...It wouldn't look right." He smiles sadly.

        "I guess you know when things are right," He says. I start to nod, but his lips are on mine. He runs his hands down my back, and moves his lips to my neck.

        "You're beautiful." He whispers in my ear. A sense of dread builds up my spine.

        "Let me go," I say,  but he holds me tight. 

         "No."  I try to move, but he has me pinned. I feel my hand on his cheek, with all the force I could muster. 

        "Get off of me or I'll scream." 

      With shame, he remove his body from mine, and rises. The hollow shell of a man.

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