"Damn it, Henry!" Thompson snapped. "You have gotten her bloodied." He shot Henry a disapproving glance.
Henry shrugged, his gaze drifting to the young woman, whose face was etched with horror and streaked with blood. "She is going to end up dirty anyway."
"Not everyone shares your... enthusiasm for filth." Saying that, Thompson turned and walked away, pulling Theresa along.
"That bastard_" Henry's face contorted in pain. "Get the physician!"
The trio made their way through the narrow corridors, stopping in front of a wooden door. Soon, the man who had followed them halfway returned with clean clothes. Thompson led the way, followed by his new slave and the man carrying the fresh garments.
"Get changed." Thompson instructed, as he walked toward the desk at the far end of the room.
Theresa took in the room's warm ambiance, lit by a few candles and a fireplace. She collected the clothes provided for her and made her way to the tall, velvet divider that stood at a corner in the room. Without hearing protests from Thompson, she confidently walked towards the divider, relieved that he had not asked her to change before their eyes.
Upon reaching the divider, she took off her clothes and replaced them with what she had been given. A pale cream gown with long sleeves, reminiscent of the attire worn by the two women she had seen earlier. Without the bloodstains and holes, it did not look too bad. Although it was plain and simple, it still looked pretty in a way.
A sigh escaped Theresa's pale pink lips, as her eyes moved to her reflection in the window a few steps away from her. Her life had taken a sudden turn, neither expected by her nor anyone else. Who would have thought she would be spending her evening at the slave establishment? Everything was happening so fast, like a dream she desperately wanted to wake up from.
As she folded her old clothes, she used the fabric to gently clean the dried bloodstains on her face. The memories of the earlier chaos came flooding back - Henry's gun, the woman's lifeless body, and the feeling of helplessness that had washed over her.
Her thoughts drifted to the uncertainty of her future. Would her life ever return to the way it was before? Could she ever live like herself again, without the label of "slave" replacing her name? She felt helpless, with no one to blame. Was it Mr. Johnson, herself, or the heavens that had dealt her this cruel fate?
Sighing deeply, Theresa walked out of the divider approaching Thompson, who still stood by the desk. Along the way, she handed her clothes over to the man, who seemed to be his colleague. With a wistful look, she bid goodbye to the buttery yellow gown she had worn until now.
"Fill this." He handed her a paper, his eyes returning to the documents on the desk.
The faint scent of old books and dust wafted through the air. Without a word, she took the paper from Thompson, her hands trembling slightly as she began filling out her details.
"It seems you still forget who and where you are." Thompson's sudden words made Theresa look up in question. The flickering candlelight danced across his face, casting eerie shadows, that seemed to deepen the lines on his forehead."Consider yourself lucky that I do not find faults in irrelevant things."
Furrowing her brows, she hesitated before asking, "What do you mean?" Her voice barely above a whisper.
He raised his head and their eyes met, lingering for a moment before he spoke in a low measured tone. "I remember telling you to change your clothes, not going into the divider. Is it that you are ignorant or just looking for a way to get in trouble?" He asked.
"Where should I have changed then?" Though her words were direct, it was laced with caution.
"Right where you stood."
She gulped, her eyes scanning his face for any hint of amusement, but his expression remained serious and unyielding.
"You would have gotten a slap at least, if it was someone else in my place ." He stated as a matter of fact. "I would advise you remember that you're nothing but a slave now, and act accordingly. Unless you wish to be whipped." Saying this, he moved his attention back to the desk, his movements economical and precise. "And also, stay away from those men you saw earlier. I am sure you understand why."
Once Theresa was done, Thompson took the paper which now carried her details. He walked round the desk, his boots echoing off the walls, before keeping the paper in a particular drawer. Sparing her a glance, which indicated for her to follow him, he made his way towards the door.
"Wait." She suddenly called out.
Haunting, Thompson turned to her with raised brows, demanding to know why she had stopped him.
"Am I... going to be branded too?" Fear crept into her heart.
"Yes." Tilting his head, he asked. "You don't want to be?" His question sounded as though she had a choice.
"No."
A low, amused chuckle rumbled from his throat. "We will see about that."
"Does that mean you will help me?"
"I never said that," he started walking and Theresa quickly made her way to his side. "And why will I help a slave?"
The harsh reality hit her like a slap in the face. "Before I became a slave I was just like you, hours ago I had rights just like you and you are aware of how I was sold illegally"
He laughed again. "Illegally?"
"Yes"
"Your town head knew and I would not have been there, if everything had not been prepared. The higher-ups are looking for ways to shut us down, and we won't still be standing if we were negligent in things like that."
"But we both know I am right."
"Being right won't save you." He retorted. "Money can buy anything, even the rights you claim. And who would listen to a mere slave."
Theresa stopped walking abruptly, a drop of the tears she had been holding back slowly slid down her cheek. What had she done to deserve such cruelty.
"What do you want in return?"
"What do you have?" He mocked.
"Anything, just name it." Theresa pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice. No matter what she heard, she would not give up. The last thing she wanted was to be handled by those men Thompson warned about. Even before he had told her to keep her distance, she had already made up her mind to stay as far as she could from them.
She had endured belittling words from Thompson, but from them, she knew they would do worse. The memory of their leering faces sent a shiver down her spine.
Thompson's lips pulled up, and he looked over to Jason, who hadn't taken his eyes off the new slave since she walked out of the divider. His associate had barely seen her properly because of the little commotion earlier, and after that, because she had blood stains on her face. But now that she wasn't hiding behind him anymore, Jason could see the gem he had brought.
She was beautiful, he had to admit. Her soft features gave her a simple look at first glance, but if one were to look again, patiently and closely, they would not want to look away. Her life here could turn to hell or paradise, all because of her striking features. The least he could do was to keep her from trouble, but there was nothing he could do if trouble came looking for her. Thompson understood the pain she felt, her life changed unfairly because of someone's greed. But it was not his job to serve justice and also not his problem to solve.
Walking up to her, he discarded the look of mockery, replacing it with seriousness. "What can you give in return?"