Page 32 of Master B-0361

“Yeah. He wasn’t the nicest guy.”

“Margaret.” Sebastian walked over, grabbing one of the bar stools to sit on. “I read through your slave file while you were in the hospital.”

“My slave file?”

He nodded. “All slaves have them. It covers the medical screenings and bloodwork all slaves have to undergo. It also has family history if anything is triggered in the system concerning you or those closest to you.”

“Like police records and stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you know.”

“He wasn’t a good guy.”

At Sebastian repeating me, all I could do was nod and agree.

“He hurt my mom a lot.”

“And you.”

“Yeah.” I pulled out the other stool, easing to sit as I stared at him.

“You left there though. You went to college. You were finishing up your bachelor’s in health sciences. You applied to Med School. You’re really smart.”

Tears blurred my vision as I spun back to look down at the list, taking glances at him.

“So close but so far. Story of my life.”

“You had a softball scholarship.”

I laughed, more out of surprise at hearing him say it than him actually knowing. It was so odd to hear about who I used to be. It felt like another life entirely.

“I was really good.”

“I believe it.”

His gaze kept scanning my face as he looked for whatever words he wanted to say.

“Margaret, I’ll be honest. I can’t quite put my finger on why I bought you. I needed a new slave, yes, but when our eyes locked as you passed...” He stopped. “Maybe it’s true and you do look like her. Maybe it’s so close, my mind refuses to see just how much. All I know is, I like you. I didn’t expect that. I didn’t want it, truthfully. When I shut you down, you weren’t meant to come back. Not more than a few minutes at a time. And now that you’re here,and this,” he gestured to the television and the list, “I need to go with my gut on this one, and that’s that you’re not safe to stay here with me.”

“Wait.” My head shook and that ping of my past roared its head. It was a twist of loneliness, of pain and loss, and a weird slash of losing Sebastian. It made zero sense. “You don’t want me anymore?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you. I have things Ineedthat I can’t get from you.”

“Dead things?”

He gave me a dry look. “Maybe.”

“I told you…I know ways. We can replicate what you need. Can’t you at least see if you like my ideas?”

“Are you aware that you’re offering me a sexual proposal?”

My mouth opened at my pause. “I like sex.”

“With me?”

Was my face red? It was on fire because it was the truth. I coped with sex. I used it to help me work my way through my hardest times. Maybe it was wrong, but to me it just worked.