I am not even sure where to begin. I have so much to write and since my real journal is in a crate somewhere in an alley of Kar these scraps of paper will have to do. Let's just hope wench does not count the blank pages of her journal.
It was hard to get this in here because without clothes or hair there is nowhere to hide things. This type of skill should be out on the streets being used in their right not locked up in a cage being forced to become a groveling scrap of silk that rubs feet and gets a drink for someone who is perfectly capable of getting their own.
I have to get out of here. I hate indoors. I have to get me and Chloe out. Kings yes I have to get Chloe out of here. My scatterbrained Chloe is now under the rule of a rum swigging pirate who will not care that she is just scatterbrained and innocent. He drug her out to the sleen pens the other night and my heart almost stopped. I wanted to go after her, protect her, save her for that is what I do but I couldn't. That feeling was beyond description. I have to figure a way to save her.
As for the slaver, I have never loathed before now. I know my days are numbered if I do not figure a way out of here. There is no way I can become like that switch carrying piece of silk he owns, or even like wench…..no definitely not like wench. I met wench awhile back through Tristan, who spoke of her like an infatuated boy instead of full grown man. He raved about her loyalty and love for her owner. Tonight all that loyalty and love was thrown right back in her face when she was told she was to be sold. It drove home to me again the futility of the whole thing. People don’t love, people are fickle and self-serving. You should never trust anyone.
But isn’t that supposedly the basis of slavery? Being completely trusting, loyal and loving to your owner, living for his benefit or some such stuff? Why? So you can be thrown away when something better comes along? When he decides he likes brown hair instead of blonde? I think not. The slaver spouted some drivel about her being pleasing to all men or such but it made naught sense to me. It contradicted the point of being loyal to one owner. I did not fancy another kick to the face so I kept the rest to myself.
I have to get out of here. I am not being fed and I am quickly adding lashes against myself. The slaver made a sign tonight that says “do not feed the slave” and hung it around my neck. I had to act as if I couldn’t read I feel it is safer that way. Not all street urts have had the luck I had with being taught to read and write. I also had to pretend I couldn’t read the sign he hung on his pet that said “lashes for scootch”.
I have to see Tristan. Wench said she saw him and that he said he would leave me here to teach me a lesson but I bet if he saw me he would get me and Chloe out of here. Maybe wench can get him to come here. He is disgustingly besotted with her and that could be advantageous.
Ugh I am running out of paper….I will have to try and steal more so until then…..
Well I managed to get a couple more sheets out of kamya’s journal but I think she is starting to notice so I will have to figure out a new source, which could be tough.
This day has been….horrendous.
I was betrayed today by someone I had let myself call friend. I should have known better. I should know not to trust anyone especially a male!
Tristan came to the house. When I heard his voice my spirits soared. I just knew he had come to rescue me. I could feel the streets beneath my feet, the excitement of the perfect lift, the exhilaration of a perfect con. He had come to get me out of here.
I have been laughed at many times but this laugh was probably the worst one I have ever experienced. Then he left….without me! I am not sure I can describe how that felt. Abject? I think that is the word. I can hear Lady Asaria saying “Think Parisian think!
Hollow. Wretched. Hopeless. That is what it felt like.
Then the slaver said he was sorry and actually used my real name, well the part of it he knows. I almost am wary to admit but it felt nice to have my named used right then. I don’t think he really was sorry but still ….Bah what am I saying only ehns after that he trapped me into eating from his hand. I am such a weakling. I am a street urt! I should be used to being hungry but he had that food right there under my nose and all I could think was “I don’t want to die” I deserve this torture that I am suffering for being so weak.
Then the night just got worse. He allowed me to go to the kitchens alone. I was surprised and suspicious but never one to turn opportunity down so I went. There it was, the door to freedom right across the room. I began searching for rep cloths to make a makeshift outfit and scarf to cover the blasted collar. I had them in hand with my hand on the door when I stopped. Why did I stop? Why?
I stopped because it was too hurried. Yes that is it. I stopped because if he let me this time he would probably let me again. Gain his confidence then make a good escape. That is the key right? That is why I stopped. Yes it has to be. And the fact that kamya came into the kitchen and saw me. I threw the rep cloths back and grabbed water going back out.
The next bit was a blur of tension and confusion. He asked me what took so long and I half lied to him. He then turned it on kamya who talked around it so not to technically lie which got her in trouble. I don’t know how she does it. It seems to hurt her when she disappoints him. Why? It seems impossible to please him. Then he spouts something about if we fail then he isn’t doing his job! What? Kamya is over there sweeping the floor with her form, begging to be whipped, and groveling to get his favor back because she has disappointed him and he says he has failed? Note to self: Don’t become a slaver the job is impossible it seems.
He must have forgiven kamya though because he kissed her or she kissed him I am not sure which. And…..and…I was jealous. Dammit to the city of dust! I have to get out of this place, it is getting to me!