Cherished

1

Eva curled into a tight ball to protect her body from more strikes. She could feel the warm blood running down her back, soaking into her shirt, and making the fabric heavy against her.

Her master grunted, dropping his belt onto the concrete floor with a clang.

"Good for nothing whore," he said, his voice strained. He had overexerted himself this time. "I am tired of dealing with your fuck-ups. I can't wait to get rid of you in a few days."

He left the room with a slam, and only when Eva heard the familiar click of the latch did she uncurl from her fetal position.

She struggled to stand as her vision darkened around the edges. She stumbled over to the sink in the corner. It was her only source of water, and on a good day, the water would be clear. It was always ice cold.

Today must not have been a good day because the water ran brown. She shut it off, trying to grip the edge of the sink to steady herself, but her grip was too weak, and her fingers slipped right off.

She hit the ground with a thud, sobbing at the pain it caused her. The first of the tears was all she needed to get the rest of them flowing. She didn't allow herself to cry very often.

Eva knew she was on borrowed time. She had always been on borrowed time. She lived in an orphanage until about thirteen when a man had offered to pay the orphanage in exchange for her to work for him.

As a kid, it wasn't terrible. She would work from sunrise to sunset, and the worst of a punishment would have been a slap across the face.

When she turned sixteen, the agreement with the orphanage was over. Eva thought she would be free, but her first master had decided not to let her go. Instead, he had put her up for sale at an auction. That's when everything got worse.

It was no longer about work. It was about being a punching bag, a source of relief for these awful men.

She hardly ate. Food was a reward. She hardly slept. Sleeping made her vulnerable.

That's how she knew she was on borrowed time. She was twenty-two now. She couldn't take much more of this.

Eva crawled over to her mat in the corner, laying on her stomach and closing her eyes for just a moment.

---

She woke up to three pounds at the door. That was her cue to get up and start her day.

This master was particularly cruel. He liked to hurt her until he drew blood. And what he considered mistakes usually wasn't her fault.

Yesterday, they had been totally out of eggs. Usually, the chicken coop would have several, but there was only one egg, and her master loved two every morning.

She wasn't even the cook. He had actual maids and staff for that.

The door was unlocked, and she went upstairs to her master's bedroom. He preferred that she was the one that drew his bath for him. He was like a child in that way, preferring a bath over a shower.

Her master entered the bathroom, and she turned her eyes to the floor as he undressed. He was gross, but she brushed it off. She had been with him for a year now, and it had always been this way.

"Leave," he demanded.

She moved to go around him, but he stopped her by gripping her arm, pulling her close to his fully nude body.

His other hand went to her back, dipping under her shirt and pressing into the welts he had caused the night before.

Eva's lip trembled, and she struggled to suppress her whimpers. She hated his slimy touch.

He chuckled a bit. "Some of those don't feel bad at all. I might have to fix them later tonight."

He smacked her back with his open palm, and she cried out in pain, feeling the tears behind her eyes again.

He finally released her, and she left the room, composing herself along the way.

Tonight was going to be even worse.