Chapter 9
Micah looked over at the wall clock in his office. It had been thirty minutes and so far, the girl hadn”t made any attempt to leave.
To do so, she would have to pass this room and he’d deliberately kept the door open, so he could check.
Taking that as a positive sign, Micah decided to go back and check on his unexpected guest.
Upon entering the room, he sat himself back behind the table in the corner so as not to intimidate her. ”How are you feeling now?” he finally asked, aware she”d not yet spoken at all.
”I…” The single word came out as a timid croak, and she cleared her throat and took a sip of water before continuing. ”I”m feeling better, I guess.”
”What”s your name?” Micah asked. It was a straightforward question, but the girl didn’t answer, and he wondered if she was scared to identify herself.
”You don”t need to give me your full name, just tell me what I should call you,” he tried to reassure her.
Still, she looked at him blankly until, finally, her brow knitted, and she whispered sadly, ”I don”t have a name.”
Now it was Micah”s turn to frown. ”You don”t remember your name?” he interpreted. ”Are there other things you don”t remember?” he asked in alarm, suddenly concerned that her prognosis was worse than Xavier had imagined.
”No, I mean I don”t have a name,” she corrected.
”Then what does everyone call you?”
”There was only Master, and he said I hadn”t earned the right to have a name. Mostly, he called me nothing, but if he had to, he called me ‘slave’.”
Micah was momentarily lost for words, but thoughts and questions tumbled through his shocked mind.
”How long were you with your master?” he asked carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her with all of the many different questions which were running through his head.
”I don”t know.” She shrugged. ”I know the years passed because the seasons changed, but I don”t know if I counted them properly. I think I was there for more than three years.”
Micah took a breath and tried not to let his horror show on his face. Luckily, having worked for several years in a psychology practice, he had a lot of experience at that.
”So where were you before that?”
”I had a different Master…well, not really a Master. He wanted me to call him Daddy,” she told him as if it were the most normal thing in the world. At least Micah understood what she was telling him better than most would. ”He called me ”child”.”
Micah weighed her words carefully. He wondered how much information she”d be willing to share because he had some serious concerns about what he was reading between the lines right now. But he didn”t want to spook her by quizzing her too much.
”Okay, so when you were growing up, before you lived with your master and your daddy, didn”t you have a name then?”
She blinked at him, almost nonplussed before scrunching her face up. ”Yes?” she replied as if it was a question instead of a statement.
”Okay,” Micah cajoled. ”And what was that name?”
She didn”t answer for so long that Micah wondered just how long it had been and if she really had forgotten. ”M-Melody,” she finally stammered in a voice barely above a breath, as if the name was foreign on her tongue.
Micah smiled widely as he got the first real piece of information out of her. ”That”s a beautiful name,” he praised. ”And I will be calling you Melody.”
”I can have a name?” she whispered. The words should have alerted him and set his internal alarm bells ringing, but Micah didn”t have time to react before Melody launched herself off of the sofa, falling to her knees as her painful feet and ankle gave out on her. Still, she pulled herself over to his feet, crawling with unexpected speed and losing most of her blankets as she did so, and Micah wasn”t prepared for the intensity of the reaction his declaration brought about.
To his utter shock, she started kissing his boots, interspersing the action with genuine, heartfelt declarations of appreciation.
”Oh, thank you, Master. You won”t regret it. I will be such a good slave for you. I am so honoured that you gave me back my name. I promise, I will serve you well.”
”Melody!” Micah exclaimed as she prostrated herself at his feet.
”Sorry, Master,” she apologised quickly. ”I know I shouldn”t have moved or spoken without permission, but I just wanted you to know how grateful I am. Are you going to punish me now?”
Her voice trembled with the final query.
”Melody,” Micah continued more softly. ”You are not my slave, and I am not your master.”
To his shock, her eyes filled with unexpected tears.
”I know I do things wrong, but I can be a helpful and attentive slave. I can look after all your needs. Everything and anything!”
Micah sighed. The girl was going to need a lot more help than simply recovering from her physical abuse. It was becoming overwhelmingly clear that she had been completely brainwashed as to her role and her value in life. Even her very freedom.
Micah stood and held out his hand for Melody to take, making his actions clear. ”Let”s get you wrapped back up and continue warming your feet, sweetheart.”
He couldn”t help the endearment which slipped out. He was hit by the overwhelming urge to scoop her up and coddle her with kindness and consideration. It was becoming clear that this poor creature had encountered no comfort or sweetness in her life for a very long time. Not even the characteristic loving and remorse that typified the cycle of spousal abuse.
For Melody, it appeared there had only been harshness and punishment without a hint of tenderness or penitence. Depending on her strength of character, that might even prove to be beneficial in the long run. Often, it was the subsequent affection and seeming repentance that caused the confusion and kept the victim”s psyche in a state of disorientation. Kept them willing to believe that their abuser was sorry for their actions and wouldn”t do it again or would honestly try to change, leading to a willingness to give undeserved second chances which eventually just duplicated the cycle. Rinse and repeat.
That wasn’t the impression he was getting here.
Micah rubbed at the ache that was beginning to flare behind his temples. He was going to need a lot more information!
Melody was clearly nonplussed at Micah”s actions in helping her, another clue that she wasn”t used to even the smallest concession. Then her face cleared as if she had suddenly had an epiphany.
”Of course!” she exclaimed. ”I understand now. You need me to be strong and properly recovered so that I can serve you adequately.”
He refreshed the warm water in the bowl and slipped her feet back into it after he”d retrieved her blankets, then Micah tried to make his expectations clear.
”No, Melody. I want you to be properly recovered for yourself and the sake of your own health. I do not want you to be my slave.”
This time, the tears that filled her eyes were not the joyful kind. ”You don”t want me?” she asked meekly, almost sadly. ”I”m no good at all?”
Micah closed his eyes and sighed. Without a doubt, in his ten years of practising psychology, he had never encountered an individual whose deliberately malicious conditioning was quite as indoctrinated as it appeared in this young girl. Not even his ex had displayed this much dependence and that, at least, had been a choice of her own free will.
A tremor of trepidation shivered down Micah”s spine. Was he getting in too deep with this situation, biting off more than he could chew?
Did that even matter?
He had a duty, right at this very moment, to reassure this woman and set her on a path to recovery. Now, it was clear that would be very much more than a physical recovery, and since he was the only one here, he was the one tasked with that obligation. This might not be what he had initially signed up for, but there was no way he was going to shirk his unexpected responsibilities and become yet another person who had let this girl down.
Right here, right now, was the day that Melody”s life was going to change, and the first thing he had to do was convince her that she was valued in her own right. As an individual who was free and in control of her own destiny.
Micah lifted Melody”s downturned face to his. ”Look at me, Melody.”
He deliberately emphasised her name.
”I hope I am making myself clear, because I don”t want you to be upset by any misunderstandings,” he told her earnestly. ”I did not say that I don”t want you, or that you are no good! Understand?”
She looked at him for a long time, but he waited her out, his eyebrow raised in query, so she knew he was waiting for an answer.
Eventually, she nodded, although he noted she still seemed unsure. Well, he could work on that.
”Maybe we could do it properly, with a contract and everything, if that would make you feel better,” Melody asked hesitantly.
”Absolutely not!” Micah refused in no uncertain terms. ”I refuse to validate your subjugation by endorsing it with a contract,” he replied, knowing all too well that the use of a contract was one of the tools Masters often adopted to authenticate the feeling of ”ownership” within the slave mentality.
”I do not need or require a slave, but I do want to help you recover. You are your own person, Melody, and you’re in charge of your own life and your own decisions; no one else. I will tell you that as many times as I need to for you to start believing it.”
She didn”t look like she believed it right now, but Micah wasn”t deterred. He knew it would take time for her to accept this new reality.
”Now, while we have only just met and don”t know each other at all, I would like to try to be your friend.”
”Friend?” Melody repeated as if the concept was a foreign one.
”Yes, friend,” Micah reiterated with his most reassuring smile.