For the third time today I catch Lost poking at her stomach with a curious finger. She's mostly healed, but she twitches every time her fingertip touches her skin.
"Why do you keep doing that?" I ask, watching her poke herself again.
"I'm going to have a new scar," she mumbles. Her hand covers the spot and she splays out her fingers over her abs. Even through her healing process she's somehow kept them defined and strong. I'm fairly certain she worked out when I wasn't looking, which is probably why she took so long to get better.
"Is that okay?" I take a water bottle from the fridge and crack the cap open. My mind wanders to that scar lightening cream that I once thought about. "Do you mind having another one?"
"Not at all." Lost puts her shirt back down and pats her belly protectively. "It will only get lost in the others. I'll hardly notice it."
"Then why bring it up in the first place?"
Lips puckering, Lost plops down on the couch. "This is the first scar I've gained in your service."
"Okay, two things," I say, moving to stand in front of the kitchen island to be in Lost's view. I lean back onto the island and cross my arms over my stomach, water bottle still in hand. "One, you're not in my service, and two, why is getting a scar with me so important?"
"It's not important, per se. But I've gotten scars from all the others. It seems strange that I've just gotten one from you now, and you're not even the one to give it to me."
I sip at my water then turn to put the bottle on the island. "I think it's a good thing I haven't hurt you. Do you disagree?"
Lost opens her mouth but closes it just as fast, then she hums in thought.
"Is receiving scars some kind of achievement to your people?" I ask instead.
"No. But it's what I know as an individual."
Pursing my lips, I nod slowly. "And do you like getting hurt? Did you like getting the scars you have?"
Lost's brow furrows and her eyes narrow the slightest as she looks at me. "No," she drawls. I can almost see her mind cranking, trying to figure out where I'm going with this. "Not at all. Each and every one of them caused me great pain. But they-"
"No. Stop," I interrupt. "We're not talking about them. We're talking about you. Now tell me, why would you think I would cause you great pain?"
"You... wouldn't?"
"Are you asking or telling me?"
Lost shifts uncomfortably. Obviously giving her commands without really giving them makes her nervous. "Telling? Yes. Telling."
I bob my head. "Okay. Since you think I wouldn't cause you great pain, why would you want a scar from me?"
"I..." Lost's face twists in pain and she holds her hands in her lap, squeezing them. "It's all I know."
My heart aches for her, but I wet my lips and keep going. Lost needs to know that her past was horrendous. She doesn't have to be a toy anymore. She is her own person and, damn it, I'm going to make sure she knows it.
"What if I told you I grew up in an abusive home?" I ask carefully.
Lost stands abruptly, her eyes lighter than they should be. "Did you?" she growls. "Who hurt you?"
"Sit down, please, and listen."
When Lost sits back down, I continue on even with her brighter eyes on me and her jaw clenched dangerously.
"What if I told you I was ruined by both physical and mental abuse? What if I defended my abusers? What if I wanted you to beat me because it was what I grew up with?"
" Never!" Lost shrieks, leaning forward, clearly wanting to stand. "What happened to you wasn't your fault. I won't allow you to defend those cowards!" She spits on the ground and hisses something in a language I don't know. "They hurt you, can't you see? Why would you want more? I won't ever beat you. Ever. You need kindness. You need to be treated like a human being, not an animal. Tell me who they are and I will pay them back for everything they did to you."
"Relax," I coo, taking a few steps forward. "No one did anything to me. But how you feel right now? That's how I feel when you tell me you want scars from me. That's how I feel when you talk about your past like it's normal."
Lost's face slackens, her expression going blank, and I think I've finally gotten through to her. Her eyes darken to their normal hue and her body unwinds, and she goes dead silent.
"I'm a victim, aren't I?" she whispers after a time, eyes going wide.
Saddened, I make my way to her side and sit. "Not anymore."
Lost shakes her head and flops back into the couch, her limp hands resting on her inner thighs. "When did I become a victim? I can't remember ever being anything but."
Now that the realization has come, I want us to handle it together. "It's not your fault," I tell her, scooting closer. Then I repeat her own passionate words back at her, "You need kindness. You need to be treated like a human being, not an animal. Will you let me treat you that way? Will you let me stop the cycle of violence?"
There's a beat of silence, then Lost's hand slips in mine. She keeps her face forward and refuses to look at me "You let me do this once without permission. Why?"
I remember the way she begged me not to let those male doctors near her, they way she held my hand until she couldn't anymore. "Why have you done it again?"
Her hand tenses in mine, and she pulls away slightly. "I... I don't know. You give me this feeling of... You make me think it's okay. Is it not okay?"
"It's okay." And I squeeze her hand encouragingly to prove it.
"I like it when you treat me like more than just a Pet. Maybe it's not my place to say so..."
"You can say whatever you want."
"It makes me nervous, but I like it. I'm so used to... other things, that the way you treat me is almost unreal. This is how you mean when you say you'll treat me like a human being?"
I turn to face Lost fully, then take a chance and bring both her hands into mine and rub my thumbs over her knuckles. Her eyes are large when I look back up at her. "This is exactly how I mean. Would you like that?"
Lost's eyes brighten and she can't seem to say anything for a moment. Then, eventually, she says, "Very much."
"Good," I breathe.
I'm glad this conversation went so well. Maybe now things can get a little more normal around here. Lost and I can be equals now, or at least we can try to get there now that the air is clear.
"Do I have to change the way I act?" Lost asks curiously. "Does my new human status come with new rules?"
I chuckle and pat her hand. "Not at all. Just be you and only you." That's just the way I like it.
With our relationship something new, I wanted to spend some more time with Lost outside of the apartment, so I took her out to the grocery store with me. It's not a date destination but I want her with me, for the company and to let her pick the foods she wants. I want her to get more comfortable about making decisions around the house and food is a great place to start.
"These," she declares, holding a pack of six mini powdered donuts. The pack sits on both her palms, cradled like an ancient artifact worth millions.
"That's it?" I ask, holding back a laugh. Out of the hundreds of candies and teeth rotting sweets, it's a mystery why she picked donuts, and the smallest amount at that. "That's what you want?"
"I had them once, a long time ago. They were delicious."
"You're going to eat those in one sitting. Why didn't you get more? Or get the bag of them?"
"I didn't know I could do that."
"Don't be afraid," I tell her, moving to the aisle where she came from. "Let's get you the bag." I grab one, but then get another. "Two. Just in case."
Lost watches me place both bags in the cart. "That's okay?"
"Of course. Now come on, we need milk."
She follows, her hand on the side of the cart, and makes funny noises with her mouth. She's like a kid who's just glad to be out of the house. It's kind of endearing.
As we reach the dairy section, Lost veers off into another direction confidently. I let her go since I already told her that if she wanted something she could get it, and I pick a gallon of milk while she's gone. Then I move along to get yogurt for myself. I've never seen Lost eat any so I don't bother getting extra cups for her. I expect her to come back while I get butter and cheese but she's still gone, not even in sight. Frowning, I push the cart down the aisles to try to find Lost. It takes me a few minutes but I eventually find her talking to some woman by the fresh veggies. Though curious, I don't want to interrupt, so I stay back and wait for their conversation to end.
Eventually, Lost comes back to me, somehow knowing I'm nearby rather than in the dairy section, and gives me a smile.
"What was that about?" I ask, looking beyond her to the mysterious woman.
Lost hands me a tattered old business card. "I wanted some charms and thought I'd ask. Do you know where this is?"
Studying the card, I raise my eyebrows. "Yeah... It's an herbal shop or something downtown." Then I look up at Lost. "What do you mean charms?"
"Protection things for the apartment. I've never felt the need to get them before but my internal alarm only works so far."
Her whole response only springs up more questions. "Protection things? And what internal alarm?"
"Protection charms. Placed properly around our apartment building will give me fair warning if anything vile is happening. As for my alarm, it's what warns me when danger is near. It's the reason I knew that man a floor below us was being robbed. Remember that?"
"I definitely remember that," I mumble, pushing the cart along. There's still a few things I need to get and I can't stand around and talk while the milk spoils. "Do you really think some goofy charms from some herbalist will work, though?"
Lost nudges the cart a little to prevent me from clipping a display. "She's not an herbalist. She's a witch."
I'm so surprised by that answer that I can't even laugh. "You're joking."
"Not at all. I could smell it on her, feel it, too. Witches powerful enough give me tingles."
Swerving the cart to aim for the personal care aisles, I give Lost a look. "Witches don't exist."
Lost turns around to face me while walking backwards. "You didn't think I existed, either."
"Okay, good point, but that's different. Witches aren't real. They're myths, like goblins and werewolves."
Lost skirts a vitamin display and hums. "None of those things are myths. I've seen and spoken to them all."
"If those things existed, don't you think I'd know?" I turn into the shampoo and body wash aisle. "There's no way they could stay a secret. Come on, I'm on one of the highest levels of government authority."
"Secrets within secrets," Lost says mysteriously. She reaches up to get the shampoo I can't reach and puts it in the cart for me. "But they do exist. And I've known of authorities that police Others. Frightened humans that stick their noses where they don't belong."
I roll my eyes. "Like Van Helsing?"
Lost perks up. "You know the story?"
"I was kidding, Lost. None of that's real."
"You could take me to the witch and see for yourself."
Grabbing a bottle of body wash, I grunt. I did say Lost could have anything she wanted. If this is what she wants, well, I'll go to this store even if I don't believe. "Fine," I eventually say. "We'll go."
"I can't believe I agreed to this," I mumble. The store before me is small and grubby, and smells like pot, even out here on the sidewalk. There's some skinny hipster kid out front and his bohemian friend who appears to not know what a shower is. This is most definitely not my scene.
"She said her coven makes the best protection charms in the city," Lost says cheerily as she slips her hand in mine and starts for the entrance.
I'm surprised that she wants to hold my hand in public, but then I notice the way she stares down the hipster kid and his friend, and I realize this is about ownership. I never pegged Lost as the kind of person to stake claim.
As we step inside the shop the scent of pot grows stronger and I cough, while Lost moves to stand just behind me and to my left. I'm about to ask her if she expects me to ask for her protection charms, but the cashier at the only check out desk calls out to me.
"What can I help you with?" he asks, bored.
I walk up to him and open my mouth, but Lost leans down to my ear and whispers for me to hand over the business card. Though unsure why, I hand the beaten up card to the cashier and wait. He scrutinizes the browning thing, then squints at me suspiciously.
"Where'd you get this?"
"Mary gave it to me," Lost answers for me.
The cashier hums, skeptical. "Mary's a common name."
Lost takes a deep breath from behind me, and the cashier's eyes widen. "Ego vobiscum sum."
"In the back," he says politely, pointing to a rug hanging on the far wall.
Lost taps my side to get me moving and I look up her. "What was that?"
She glances down at me, her eyes dimming. "Our way in. Now I can get those charms."
I shut my mouth and watch Lost move aside the wall rug to reveal an inner door. She ushers me inside then joins me, and I gape at the vast shop inside. There's no way all these shelves and aisles could fit into the building and yet... they do.
"What is it you're looking for?" an elderly woman asks, suddenly beside me and scaring me half to death.
I place a calming hand on my chest and curse to myself while Lost says, "Protection charms. I wish to connect them with myself to better protect my people."
The old woman wets her lips in that way that only elderly people seem to know how to do. "What are you and who are your people?"
"I have had many names, as have you, but only one has stuck. I am a Pet, and my people are hers," Lost says, meaning me.
"Pet? That's..." The old woman narrows her eyes and stares at Lost suspiciously. Then she reaches out after a moment with a gnarled finger and taps at Lost's collar. "Ah... We called you Lovers first. I didn't think you existed anymore. Snuffed out by," here she looks at me, "humans."
"I am rare, yes," Lost says, "but surely not extinct."
"You are here, so you're not extinct yet."
Lost purses her lips, looking troubled by the old woman's words. I touch her hand softly but she doesn't react to me.
"Come," the old woman beckons. "I'll get you your protection charms."
Lost finally moves and leaves me behind to follow the woman deeper into the shop. I walk slowly behind them, trying to wrap my head around what they're saying. Magic and blood and, gosh, I don't even know. I've never seen most of the things on the shelves or heard of the objects the woman and Lost are talking about. It doesn't help that they switch languages every few words. And the place is giving me the creeps. I swear some of the things displayed are moving.
Eventually, to my relief, Lost and the woman finish their shopping and head to a table that apparently is the check out counter. There are dolls and hay and necklaces and all kinds of bric a brac laying atop it.
"Blood," the woman demands, laying out the charms over the table. One for every floor of the apartment building, if I heard them earlier correctly.
Lost takes a needle from the table and pricks her finger without delay. Then she squeezes droplets of ruby onto each charm, making them glow softly in turn. I watch in awe as the charms seem to vibrate with life as the old woman takes Lost's bleeding fingertip and sprinkles a black dust over it and the charms. She mumbles something under her breath and the charms grow brighter. Then, in an instant, they blink into darkness and the woman stops talking.
"Done," she declares, letting go of Lost's finger. She reaches under the table and pulls out a dagger. "Payment?"
Lost takes the blade then turns to me. She shifts her feet and bites her lip nervously. "Can she have a lock of your hair?"
I frown and take a half step back. "Why? I have money."
"Your hair is worth more than money."
"But... why?" I'm not entirely vain, but I love my hair. It took forever to get it this long and healthy.
Lost steps intimately close to me and whispers, "I would give her my hair but my hair is useless. You have my power, so your hair is worth diamonds."
I still don't entirely believe in all this magic mojo, but my superstitious side is afraid that my hair will go onto a voodoo doll or something and I'll get a needle in the eye. "What will she do with my hair?"
"There are many things that can be done with it but... I'm certain she only wants a favor."
"A favor?"
"Yes. She can ask anything of you, once, with your hair. Can you accept that? Or should I tell her we won't be trading?"
Can I accept that? Well, if I don't believe, then it wouldn't matter if I gave up my hair. But if all this is true...
"You're not comfortable," Lost says firmly. She nods then turns to the old woman. "I'm sorry, but I cannot-"
"Wait," I say quickly. "Wait. I'll- I'll do it. She can have my hair." I don't know what made me agree.
"Are you sure?" Lost asks, close to me again. "You don't have to do this."
"It's fine." I move my hair and turn my head so Lost can get a lock of my hair near the base of my neck, where I will hardly notice. "Go ahead."
The sensation of Lost's gentle fingers mixed with the cold hardness of the dagger makes gooseflesh spring up on my arms. With one quick swipe I'm left alone again and I look at Lost to find her holding a chunk of my hair in her hand. She hands it over, along with the dagger, to the old woman and receives the charms in return. She takes the charms and puts them in an offered brown paper back, then smiles at me.
"Ready to go," she says.
I rub the back of my neck. "Go ahead. I'll meet you in the car."
She hugs the paper bag and frowns, but leaves the shop without me. I step up to the checkout table and stare at the old woman seriously. "What are you going to do with my hair?"
Chuckling, the old woman stuffs my hair in a little baggy. "That's none of your concern. But your Lover tells you no lies."
"So you want a favor from me? What is it?"
"That's unknown to me, too."
I hold back a snarky response and take a deep breath. If this woman wants to be difficult then fine. Turning around, I head for the exit, but stop, wanting to know one more thing.
"Why did you call her kind Lovers?" I ask without turning to face the woman.
There's a moment of silence, then she finally says, "Because that's what they were- are. They love with everything they have and without discrimination. They are the purest creature, if handled correctly. Are you handling her correctly?"
At that I face the old woman. "She doesn't need 'handling.' She's... She's..."
"Dangerous," the woman finishes. "I had a peek into her and her love has been twisted. She's the offspring of misuse and neglect. I'm not sure she can properly be classified as a Lover any longer."
"That's..." I trail off, unsure. I know for a fact that Lost is troubled, but why am I fighting this stranger on it? She doesn't know Lost.
Making me yelp in surprise, the woman pushes me towards the exit. "Enough with your games. Give her what she needs. She's lonely now and you're the only one that can make her line strong again."
I stumble as I'm shoved back into the front shop and left to fend for myself. Confused, I turn back and move aside the rug that leads to the back but only find a wall under my palms. That can't be right. It can't.
I shake my head and pretend that the door is behind a different rug, then I walk out front and out onto the sidewalk. Whatever happened im that shop was... nothing. There's a lot on my mind now, and I can't figure out what that old woman meant with her strange advice.