Page 14 of Captive Heart

Afterward, she waited expectantly to see if she grew drowsy. When nothing happened, after what, according to the clock on the wall, was ten minutes, she breathed a sigh of relief, sipped on the rest of her water, and added a little more warmth to the bowl her feet were in.

For better or worse, she decided to trust the stranger who, so far, had treated her with nothing but a kindness she hadn't known for…well, who knew how long it had been.

She'd lost count of days, weeks, even months, a long time ago.

Years had passed. She knew that simply by the fact that the weather changed.

There wasn't very much in life that could possibly be worse than what she had left, so what did she really have to lose?

Besides, this was a club. She knew that, because she had seen the patrons coming in and out. It would be hard to keep her secreted away in a place where there were other people and staff.

Decision made, she felt as if a great weight had lifted from her shoulders.

Only time would tell if she’d made the right choice. What she did know was that this unknown place was somewhere Master would never think to look for her, and that, alone, offered its own heady relief.

9

Micah looked over at the wall clock in his office. It had been thirty minutes and so far, the girl hadn't made any attempt to leave.

To do so, she would have to pass this room and he’d deliberately kept the door open, so he could check.

Taking that as a positive sign, Micah decided to go back and check on his unexpected guest.

Upon entering the room, he sat himself back behind the table in the corner so as not to intimidate her. "How are you feeling now?" he finally asked, aware she'd not yet spoken at all.

"I…" The single word came out as a timid croak, and she cleared her throat and took a sip of water before continuing. "I'm feeling better, I guess."

"What's your name?" Micah asked. It was a straightforward question, but the girl didn’t answer, and he wondered if she was scared to identify herself.

"You don't need to give me your full name, just tell me what I should call you," he tried to reassure her.

Still, she looked at him blankly until, finally, her brow knitted, and she whispered sadly, "I don't have a name."

Now it was Micah's turn to frown. "You don't remember your name?" he interpreted. "Are there other things you don't remember?" he asked in alarm, suddenly concerned that her prognosis was worse than Xavier had imagined.

"No, I mean I don't have a name," she corrected.

"Then what does everyone call you?"

"There was only Master, and he said I hadn't earned the right to have a name. Mostly, he called me nothing, but if he had to, he called me ‘slave’."

Micah was momentarily lost for words, but thoughts and questions tumbled through his shocked mind.

"How long were you with your master?" he asked carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her with all of the many different questions which were running through his head.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I know the years passed because the seasons changed, but I don't know if I counted them properly. I think I was there for more than three years."

Micah took a breath and tried not to let his horror show on his face. Luckily, having worked for several years in a psychology practice, he had a lot of experience at that.

"So where were you before that?"

"I had a different Master…well, not really a Master. He wanted me to call him Daddy," she told him as if it were the most normal thing in the world. At least Micah understood what she was telling him better than most would. "He called me 'child'."

Micah weighed her words carefully. He wondered how much information she'd be willing to share because he had some serious concerns about what he was reading between the lines right now. But he didn't want to spook her by quizzing her too much.

"Okay, so when you were growing up, before you lived with your master and your daddy, didn't you have a name then?"

She blinked at him, almost nonplussed before scrunching her face up. "Yes?" she replied as if it was a question instead of a statement.

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