Labyrinthe De Rêves

There're things that we won't ever be able to talk about, ever be able to escape. There really is no way to put this that I feel can make anyone understand, so I suppose he did well. I'm not so sure whether this is what he meant, or if this was something he stumbled into be. His cruelty was of renown savage proportions, a dying art saved in the vault of his family. They were descendants from a long line of Nobels, slavers like no others, torn from the very pages of history herself, written in her blood. How is it you come to own someone? Mind. . . . Soul. . . . Body. . . . Will. . . . Desire. No, it is not a brand, not scars. Wrong again, not fear. Have you learned nothing from history? I suppose that's a bad question. I did not know the answer either, but I learned. That's their business, very nearly becoming the darkest parts of history, letting from the very marrow of every infected flaming wound they can find. But history is just a fractional part of us as humans, our primal urges.

But this time it was different. He wanted a pet. A pet he could do anything with. He had gone far out of his way to do so. He found a way to control everything there was to control. To have complete pleasure in his pet without the annoyance of the limitations, the training and disposal. This, this was the age of technology, and that made it easier than ever. For me, the knowledge alone of how things had been done, how they had done things, it was almost worse than anything he could do to me.

* ━━━━ ❈ ━━━━ *

How are these stories supposed to start? Rainy days? Sunny? To be honest, I don't remember. I don't remember what time of day it was, or even what I was doing. . . . well actually I do, kind've. I was walking. I think I was on my way to work, either that or on lunch break. I was walking when a man smiled at me, I smiled back, then. . . . nothing. I woke up alone in the dark. There were no flat surfaces, it felt. . . round? It was cold. Very cold. My clothing was gone, and I felt as if I was moving. This is how we would travel, how I would travel for the next three months, between his special treatment.

My name is Lola. I've always hated that name. I've considered changing my name before, never got around to it though. I thought about Lorna or something, but I guess it doesn't matter now. I suppose it would have been a waste. Anyway, he calls me Willow. I haven't been here long, a year at most, but he uses his time efficiently.