The following morning, Oakley woke up feeling tired. Not surprising, as she had found it hard to fall asleep after her encounter with the man she strongly suspected to be her owner.
He was terrifying. His sharp sea green eyes looked at her like he could see straight into her soul. Unlock her deepest, darkest secrets. Leave her completely bare before him like an open book.
It scared her. Made her feel self conscious. Exposed. Like everything she had been trying to hide – every insecurity – would soon be discovered. She did not like it one bit.
Sighing, she stood up from the bed and walked into the bathroom to freshen up and calm her racing mind.
As she stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes landed on the clothes laid out on the bed. Her life had somehow fallen into a routine – Wake up, shower, dress up, eat, walk around the garden a bit, eat again, walk around the garden again, eat again, go back to her room, shower, wear her night clothes, lay on the bed until she falls asleep, wake up the next morning – the cycle continues again and again. No freedom. No leaving the house. She was being caged like an animal.
She hated it.
It made her feel sick. Made her feel like she had no control. And maybe she didn't anymore. The remote had long been taken away from her the day she set foot in the slave establishment.
She stepped out of the room, heading to the dining where she knew breakfast would be served.
....
When Oakley was approaching the dining, she expected to be eating alone – like aways. Like it has been so far. She was surprised to see Ian – the nice man she had met before – sitted on one of the chairs along with another man whom she had never met, but he had some resemblance to Ian.
Maybe they were brothers?
"Ah... Oakley, you're finally here." Ian said, his face was as cheerful as the first time she met him.
"I- I'm sorry for being late." She said, a bit surprised at his action. Why was he being nice to her? They didn't know each other, so why?
Of course there was a ninety-nine percent chance that that was how he was naturally. But she couldn't help thinking that it was all just a facade. A way to fool her and give her a false sense hope that everything was fine and nothing could go wrong.
But nothing was fine. And it will never be as long as she remained in this house. She would have to start planning her escape now that her owner didn't seem to have much interest in her. She should leave now that she was still unnoticed, but she would have to be careful.
"Don't just stand there." Ian said, interrupting her thoughts. "Sit."
Nodding she quickly sat down. Her eyes strayed to the quiet man's direction. Who was he?
As if sensing her gaze, the man looked up from his phone and looked at her. "I'm Jordan." He introduced, a small smile on his lips.
"He's my big bro." Ian butted in, nudging the man's shoulder a bit. Jordan glared at him and Ian waved him off.
Oakley felt a smile creep up to her face at their little interaction. She couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to have a sibling? Would they get along?
"I'm Oakley."
"I know." Of course he did. His brother must have told him.
"Now that you've met each other, can we eat now?" Ian asked, already picking up his spoon.
Oakley nodded and started to do the same.
It was not like her usual breakfast with the brothers around. Ian was funny and seemed to derive joy in annoying his older brother, while Jordan was more calm, trying his best not to lash out.
She wished to have more breakfasts like this. It was much better than eating alone in the company of complete silence.
••••
Oakley rushed downstairs in a panic from the loud crash she had heard.
"Mom, dad, are you okay?" She asked running into the kitchen. The sight she was met with filled her mouth with laughter.
It was her dad completely covered in flour and a steel bowl on the floor – that's what caused the ruckus.
"What happened?" Oakley asked admist her little giggles.
"I... Uhm..."
"I turn around for one second and somehow you bathed yourself in flour." Margret said, pinching the space between her brows.
"Well how was I supposed to know that the bag was open?" Oakley's father, Richard, said in defense.
"You have eyes." Margret said in a matter of fact tone. Not having anything else to say, Richard kept quiet.
"It's okay, dad go take a shower." Oakley sighed, shaking her head. "I'll help you clean up, mom."
"Thanks dear."
••••
A sad smile formed on her lips from the memory. A time when everything was perfect. A time when her father was still alive. A time... when her mother would have never thought of selling her.
Why did things have to change? Why did her father have to go? Why did her mother have to hate her so much? It wasn't fair.
Life wasn't being fair to her.