His Prize

Chapter 18: Outing

"Wash the dishes, then wait by the garage," Alex orders.

"Since you asked so politely, how could I refuse?" Has he ever heard of the word 'please'?

He disappears into his room, ignoring my sarcastic remark.

I finish with the breakfast dishes and sit by the garage door, like a good little pet. Ugh. I know I need to pick my battles if I want to win this war. If I fight him on every little order, I'll just get myself locked up, and escaping will become next to impossible.

A shiver crawls down my spine at the sound of a rattling chain. I jump to my feet. He's holding the neck chain.

"W-what are you doing with that?" I stutter, right on the edge of running away.

"Put it on. We need to get you your own clothes." He pushes the chain into my hands.

I hate this thing. I hate how it feels. I hate how it sounds. I don't want it. "Last time I was choked."

"Only because you ran off. Stick with me, and no-one will touch you."

I look down at it. I'm forced to wear a leash and collar, like I'm an animal. Wearing a chain practically screams that I'm just a submissive little human which fears and obeys her owner. The thought makes my stomach turn.

"It's alright." He pulls me out of my thoughts. He must have read the look on my face.

Looking at him reminds me of what he said last time. He's not doing it to humiliate me.

"We only do this because it's the law, right?" I ask, trying to reassure myself.

"If it was up to me, I wouldn't make you wear it."

That gives me the confidence I need to lock it. The weight on my neck serves as a constant reminder that I've lost this battle against the parbeings. But, for the first time ever, it doesn't feel like I'm alone. Alex is on my side.

He leads me into the garage, and I sit in the car's passenger seat. It's black with a leather interior. There's a screen on the dashboard and numbers on the windscreen. It feels rather futuristic compared to the abandoned cars I'd see scattered around the ruins.

He ties my chain through a loop under the dashboard, and our journey begins.

My face is plastered against the window. I still can't get used to how white all the buildings are. We pass a long line of humans, all chained together. Many of them are bloody. They're in rather poor shape, even for humans.

"What's happening to those people?" I ask.

"They're slaves, freshly captured from the wasteland."

"I never stood in a line like that?"

"That's because you're a pet, not a slave. Slaves are owned by companies and are generally used for manual labour. As you can see, they're processed in large batches. It's cheaper that way."

* * * * * * * *

He parks at what I'm guessing is a mall. We walk side against side, with his arm around my shoulders. The large glass door slides open, revealing lines of stores and many parbeings, with a few humans scattered about.

I keep my eye out for any policeman or security guards as we walk.

I gasp as my eyes land on a familiar logo. "You guys still have Paul's Kitchen?"

"Of course we do. Why?"

"It's just, I thought that they were all gone. It was my favourite restaurant when I was a kid."