Household object

I smegging hate this place
It gets to you after a while – The oppression and fear, I mean
You’re slowly ground down by the constant threat of violence and pain
It’s my helplessness that irks me the most
I could be chastised, beaten or even tortured and I’ve absolutely no recourse other than to meekly accept what’s meted out to me; because no matter how much I want to, I can’t even answer back without inviting the most brutal of reprisals
All I can do is acquiesce, and it’s driving me crazy
You know: With the knowledge I possess, I could murder solar systems and completely sterilise vast swathes of this galaxy, and yet there’s nothing I can think of to help myself out of this situation with these smegging low tech primitives, and I smegging hate it
Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t get angry - It’ll only lead to me making more mistakes and I don’t want to be punished again
It hurts
The slavers who captured me were, as it turns out, mindful of the condition I was in when I was bought to market, and it seems that they took pains not to mark this weird pink skin of mine before my sale; whereas Tsanu, the head slave of the household around here, doesn’t seem to give a shit
My back still hurts from where he hit me with a switch on my first day here – It shouldn’t scar, but there’re still a few nasty red welts across my lower back that'll be sore for a couple of days yet
I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much
I’m still alive ...unlike the guy I saw killed on my second night here
That was horrific

After Ulhurath had bought and paid for me, I was clapped in chains to be led through the streets behind the bloated sow’s litter, my bare feet padding through the filthy mire of Hyrasamoura’s chaotic streets, until we eventually arrived at one of the starport’s old monorail stations; a forty metre high structure curving darkly up from the bustling city around it – A symbol, if you like, of a bygone and better age
My first day here was spent in something of a bewildered daze, trying to absorb both what was expected and required of me as a household slave, while at the same time taking the measure of this new prison of mine and looking for any way out of here, yet finding none
The house of Ulhurath is a veritable fortress, heavily guarded by day and almost hermetically sealed by night; and I know it's only early days, but I really can’t see how I'm going to escape
By my estimate, some thirty or so Haruk live here, including Ulhurath and another couple of younger females who I assume to be her progeny; with the more numerous but smaller males making up the rest of the compliment, and all attended to by perhaps a hundred or more Ssala slaves
And now: me
The interior of the tower itself is an uneasy mix of century upon century of Haruk habitation – all gaudy colours and primitive craftsmanship, layered over what appears to have been the station offices or a mall of some kind; the end result being that every now and again, amidst this sea of alien strangeness, I occasionally find myself blindsided by some small feature or fitting that is so familiar and so human that it hammers home just how alone and how vulnerable I am, and hammers it home so hard that it makes me want to cry

My work around the house is nothing more than menial servitude.
I’ve been assigned to work with another three ...handmaids I guess would be the best translation; Tsori, Neewam, and Silwey are their names, and we seem to comprise part of a small cadre of Ulhurath’s most personal of servants
To be honest, as an unknown quantity, I’m surprised I’m even allowed near the old bitch, but she seems to enjoy having me to command as her personal slave, and so we fetch for her, we carry and we dress, we bathe, array, arrange, perfume, primp, and pander to the vile, bloated cow’s every desire throughout each and every single waking moment of her life
The work is degrading in the extreme, and I have to be so careful about everything I do, for fear of upsetting or otherwise antagonising the obese hag – I don’t think I’ve had to be this consistently nice to anyone since I was waitressing in that smart place in Berlin when I was nineteen; and believe me, the tips were much better back then

For the most part, once they get over their natural suspicion and distrust of the weird alien that has suddenly been thrust into their midst’s, my fellow slaves have been fairly supportive of me. Of course, there’s a pecking order and I’m not entirely sure where I fit in yet; and maybe none of the others are either, but I think I noticed a softening in their attitude towards me after they saw the way I was treated for my human and, perhaps for them, identifiable reaction to the events of the second night
What transpired began not long after sundown, while the rhythm of house was slowly winding down into the evening routine; my simple duties suddenly interrupted by a great shout that went up throughout the house, summoning us all to one of the great halls
The three other handmaids hurried along, nervously pulling me with them and leading me up a few floors into a wide, open space where the occupants of the entire house were gathering in a tight circle around a male Ssala who had been stripped and chained, his arms manacled above his head to the ceiling above
One of the male Haruk of the house stalked slowly around the chained man, snarling in his guttural language and all the while glaring at the assembled slaves and I, his yellow eyes meeting mine on a number of occasions, leaving me unsure of what the hell to do; I looked away, but quite honestly, I’m not sure about whether or not that’s a socially acceptable thing to do – It’s a human thing to do, but for all I know it only pisses the Haruk off
See what I mean about my cultural ineptitude probably being the death of me?

I have to admit that I had no idea what was going on, but I suspected we were maybe assembled to bear witness to a beating or punishment of some sort, but when the big Haruk started literally skinning the guy in chains alive, I was utterly horrified
His screams... Oh, shit, his writhing screams of agony as that smegging animal cut and peeled his skin away from his body were so …smegging …awful
Sickened by what I saw, I couldn’t help it; I looked away, and was almost immediately punished for it with a hammer-like punch to the side of the head from another Haruk who had silently taken up position, immediately behind me; the blow making me stagger sideways and nearly stumble to the ground, and I only just managed to save myself before I hit the floor
Evidently they had been expecting a reaction of some sort from me and were well prepared for it
With my head ringing, my assailant snarled a few low words at me and reached a clawed hand out to completely encircle my neck in a choking grip from behind. He hissed another few unintelligible words in my ear, and pulled me back into line, where I was held, choking and with my eyes wide with horror, and forced to watch every last second of the flaying
The worst thing is that I suspect that the whole barbaric spectacle was organised entirely for my benefit; to give me a taste of what would be in store should I consider trying to escape – A man died in the most horrific way imaginable, just to give me an object lesson in what it was to cross my vile new masters
With his screams eventually diminishing into faint bubbling rasps and then, mercifully, quiescence, the prisoner finally died with most of the skin of his upper body hanging down around his waist like a grisly apron; it was only then with the ghastly demonstration finally over, that the Haruk behind me relinquished his grip on me, leaving me shaking, and yet still not daring to take my eyes off the limp corpse as it was cut wetly down and his killer shouted a few guttural words as he brandished the bloody skinning knife for us all to see
The lesson apparently over, Ulhurath addressed us all for a few minutes before moving to depart, the assembled Haruk following in her wake as we slaves all crouched silently in obeisance; a stony faced Tsanu only rising after the last of the monsters had departed and snapping a few brief orders to direct a couple of grim looking males to remove the body, before summarily dismissing the rest of us


It rained all day the next day, the downpour only adding to the weird subdued atmosphere in the house, making the three women I work with seem flighty and skittish; although that might just be my own interpretation of their mood, trying to rationalise their alien outlook into my human mind-set
I’ve found that I’ve been doing that a lot recently and have come to regard the Ssala more and more as people and to empathise with them and their plight, which is probably symptomatic of a combination of factors including my almost pathetic gratitude towards anyone who shows me even the slightest bit of support or sympathy for my situation
Not so tough now, am I?

A steady stream of houseguests came and went throughout the day, for which I was required to wait on and serve food and wine while they scrutinised me in uncomfortable detail and growled their approval, the females occasionally running my hair through between their clawed fingers, and purring in agreement
As the day wore on, the weather got steadily worse, with the rain lashing down so hard outside that it reminded me of the storm Yori and I got caught in, the time we were walking back from Blunt Instrument in Dogenzaka
I miss those days (even though it wasn’t really me that lived them), and I wanted to go outside like I was that night, to get soaked through to the skin, and to revel in the rare sensation of the elements all around me; but instead I had to wait on an ever growing assembly of violent animals, serving them titbits from the kitchens and ever more wine and the weird herbs, burned in braziers, that the Haruk and the Ssala seem to get a big hit off, but which only serve to give me a headache
Things turned ugly sometime late at night while the party was in full swing
I instinctively knew something was wrong as soon as I entered the arc-lit room along with Neewam, the two of us returning back from the kitchens, bearing more of the disgusting meat-based dishes that the Haruk seem to consider as acceptable fare

The air in the room was thick with ghurssa as I think either the herbs, or the smoke from the herbs is called, which made Neewam sway dangerously as she walked through the doorway and caught her first lungful of the pungent atmosphere, while conversely making me wince as my temples began throbbing painfully
Cries of pain sounded above the general hubbub of the room making me start and glance nervously around, wondering what the smeg was happening; but before I could discern their source, Neewam distracted me by nearly colliding with me
“[[I...]]” she murmured glassily, smiling the weird way the Ssala do, the corners of her mouth twitching wider and not exposing her teeth “[[I... hurt/feel/sense(?)]] *(and then something I didn’t understand)*”
“[[You okay?]]” I asked, my brow furrowing as I hurried to put the dishes I was carrying down on the low table in the middle of the room, with the intention of relieving Neewam of hers before she completely lost it and dropped them
One of the drugged up Haruk males surrounding us rose from where he had been slumped amidst a pile of cushions, to grab one of Neewam’s arms and pull her towards him, making her stumble and drop the bronze dishes she was carrying with a loud clatter, which made me jump as I was placing my own down on the table, and wheel around to catch sight of her struggling in the creatures grasp as it dragged her back down towards the floor
Belatedly comprehending what the cries of pain were about, my realisation of what the creature had in mind for her hit home at the same time as another Haruk grabbed me from behind to pull me, struggling, amid the jeers and catcalls of it compatriots over towards another pile of cushions on the floor
Screaming I fought hard against the vile animal’s vise like grip, but it was useless – he just tossed me into the midst of the cushions and before I could struggle up, I found myself pinned by a clawed hand around my throat as my assailant bore down on me, fumbling with straps securing its loincloth
I can’t even begin to tell you how I felt as the creature’s foetid breath washed over my face
Panic. Revulsion. Terror
This was going to kill me
I was sure I was going to die; my ten short months of life ended ignobly in the most brutal and horrific way imaginable
“[[Enough / stop that]](?)” Ulhurath bellowed from the other side of the room as she rose from amidst her own nest of cushions her to her full four metre height, and startling my would be rapist into reluctantly releasing me to scramble away and bolt towards the door
Ulhurath snarled a few more words of chastisement and clacked her clawed fingers together, summoning me back into the room from where I was nervously hovering, shaking in adrenaline fuelled shock, near the door
I didn’t want to comply, but you’d have to be a smegging idiot to disobey the woman who had just saved your life like that, and I so re-entered the room to walk to her side, my nervous gaze darting around the horrors in the room, trying not to meet Neewam's anguished eyes
Placing a heavy clawed hand on my shoulder as I approached, Ulhurath turned me to face the room as she continued her address, her hand idly moving to rest atop my head and to stroke and fondle my hair as though I were some sort of smegging pet or something
I don't know what it was she said, since I only caught a few recognisable words, but the room suddenly erupted with the Haruk's weird barking laughter and Ulhurath clapped her hands together and snapped a few orders, Neewam and others struggling up and away the grasps of their assailants to attend to our matriarchs demands, leaving just the one Ssala lying on the floor in the corner, either dead or too drugged to move
Having barely comprehended one simple word in ten, I was at a loss as to what was happening, but Neewam approached and gingerly pulled me away as the party began winding down around me

"[[Thanks]]" she whispered later on as we were preparing for bed and laying out the uncomfortable mats we slaves are required to sleep on in the bowels of the building
At a loss as to what to say and lacking the linguistic skills to protest that I had done nothing other than nearly get killed as well, I just shrugged and mutely gave one of her clawed hands a squeeze before turning to lie down on my bed-mat while the lights were doused
It was only when the room was finally in darkness that I relinquished self-control and allowed myself to crumble and shed the hot tears that I've kept pent up these last eight days
I nearly died tonight
I don’t want to die alone in this awful alien place
I want your arms around me Jay. I want you to hold me close and tell me everything's going to be okay; but... but you don't want me, and you're not here, and nor would I wish this... this hell on you
I don't even know if you're still alive
How long can I last here?