Emilia's Fleeting Hope

Emilia curled in the corner of her room while trying to figure out what day it actually was. At some point during the week, she'd lost count of the days and her hands dragged through her hair and clenched at her temples frustrated with her inability to piece it all together. Another message filled her pen, "The duty of a servant is beauty and obedience" and her hands moved to cover her ears trying to block it out just wanting it to stop but she knew the quiet would be short-lived and another would soon follow. If she closed her eyes, she could still see Arc's face just before she had taken her last breath of freedom and the world had faded into darkness. With fear of what would happen if she passed out, she fought hard against sleep and it was starting to weigh on her.

Dragging her hands down her neck, her fingers curled in the collar, teeth clenched, and she pulled down with every bit of strength she had left in an attempt to free herself but the results were all the same. She tried desperately to find the mechanism on both the collar and the cuffs that bound her to her servitude but the locks were impossible to get them undone. With a grunt, her fingers eased and she was once more forced to accept the fact that she was not in control. Looking down at her breast, the marks had nearly faded entirely but it had been a few days since she'd seen Mr. Seulong or anyone else other than the one that brought her food each day...once a day. Agents had come and gone while pausing at her pen to look through the glass and the last few days she'd started to avoid their eyes refusing to look up before they moved along and on to the girl they were there to see. Her capture had not always started this way. Her first awakening, she had moved restless liked a caged beast with plenty of spirit and nearly feral. For days she'd managed to keep up that fight and had refused to accept this was her life. Mr. Seulong had even called reinforcements one of those days. She had held a hope that she could fool the agents and make them believe she had accepted this new life but her faith was slowly fading as that exhaustion was consuming her. Bursts of energy would spur renewed hope there might be a way out... or that she would be strong enough to overtake a weaker man.

She slowly eased to the floor touching her temple to the hard surface and pulled her knees closer to her chest while staring out the opening of her pen. Vivid memories of her captivity played through her mind. She blinked and tears spilled absently sideways across the bridge of her nose and down her rounded cheeks staining the concrete beneath her in splatters. Could she ever be this servant that lived for serving the way Mr. Seulong had claimed she could? Surely the lack of sleep was playing tricks on her when she found herself wanting and needy for a man's touch or those heavy hands controlling her. Was she crazy to actually consider giving in to her submission to these people?