One hundred and twelve: A cracked and crazy soul

What was I doing?

Did I want to encourage his relationship or stop it?

There were too many conflicting emotions.

Was I staying with him only because I thought he was relatively safe? Or because if I left, I would bring myself bigger problems than if I stayed. Despite the newness of buildings and things around the Compound, I was pretty sure I'd gotten a fair handle on most things by now. There was still one section of wall that I could possibly still climb over, but there was a security camera nearby and I wasn't sure how wide the camera's range was. Escape was possible, but not without being noticed.

Another problem was these slave commands that Kiran had mentioned. They hijacked my body and made it do things I didn't want. I never wanted to fall in the hands of someone like the light fingered man with the hip and foot drop again. He said it was possible to 'hack' some slaves and I was guessing that was in a software type context. Like I was a computer. He said I'd been calibrated to Kiran. My guess was that there was some sort of bio-sensor that Dr Eisor had installed in me, so that it would be noticeable if someone other than Kiran tried to - you know. Maybe I should find a way to learn some of these slave commands so that I could learn to hack into myself and regain some control. There had to be a way to do it… but who would teach me the slave commands? I knew the ones that had been used on me so far. Perhaps if I started from there, I would be able to put something together.

I stood in the apartment doorway looking outside, but not really seeing the view. Thoughts whirled and zoomed in circles in my head, forming multiple interlinking rings that trapped me under the heavy net they made.

I liked Kiran, but didn't love him. He used me. Abused me and thought an apology would make up for the deep fear he'd seated in me. If I could - if it weren't so dangerous out there, I'd walk out and never see him again.

Why should I stay for a stalker that assumed I liked him just because he liked me? Why stay for the Chief-in-Waiting who was stronger than me and assumed I was his because he said so? The man who didn't know how to take 'no' for an answer? I had helped him win the war and then because he didn't believe or trust me as much as his own people, he betrayed me.

Why stay for the soldier spy who had saved my life countless times and to whom I owed my life as a payment of this debt? Why stay for the man who had cared for me when I was so sick, who hadn't touched me until I had agreed that I owed him my life and belonged to him? Why stay for the man carrying the future of his entire nation on his shoulders and needed strong support, not reedy people like me who were easily swayed by the wind and crushed with a footstep?

I know. I don't know.

I don't know.

And in all this, what was I?

A rescued prisoner or a rescued princess?

A soldier's prize or a chosen woman?

A captured slave or a kept wife?

A genius or a broken girl?

All of them?

None of them?

Some of them?

Home. I wanted to go home. I wanted my Mummy and my Daddy. Why wouldn't they just let me go home? Why had my parents left me alone?

And I crumpled in that doorway with my head on my knees, soaking my trousers with my tears. The door was open. I could see the possible hope. See the many options, but could not grasp a single one.

I had become a prisoner. A slave. Decisions were made for me and I was too afraid to make my own anymore. I barely knew how to make my own decisions and make my own actions anymore. I was still a prisoner stuck in the Compound. A traitor to both sides, belonging to none. Neither side really liked me and the only reason I was still alive was because of Kiran. If he ever gave up on me or let me go, there'd be a free-for-all scramble to see who could capture or kill me first, depending upon what they wanted me for. The best scenario outside of Kiran was to escape into hiding and become a voluntary exile like Dr Eisor had. The next best was to be a prisoner on the other side of the border. The options devolved from there to becoming a sold slave, a tortured prisoner, a research subject or dead by execution or assassination.

Jean Wallace was not Jean Wallace anymore. She was Kiran's girl. A former slave. A suspected traitor. A person that can't be trusted. A possible source of information and new technology. A cracked and crazy soul.

She may as well be dead for all that was left of the original.