They were certainly going to be killed now

536 15 2
                                    

Alia lightly crooned to herself as she stared out the window,

"Made a wrong turn, once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that's alright
Welcome to my silly life

Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss knowing it's all good, it didn't slow me down
Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated
Look, I'm still around

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing
You're perfect to me

You're so mean (you're so mean)
When you talk (when you talk)
About yourself, you were wrong
Change the voices (change the voices)
In your head (in your head)
Make them like you instead
So complicated, look happy, you'll make it
Filled with so much hatred, such a tired game
It's enough, I've done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons, I've seen you do the same, oh

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing
You're perfect to me"


Her well-used and ragged copy of Jane Eyre lay open in her lap, as her mind drifted off. Alia had had a rough childhood that left her mostly separated from her family and terrified of forming real bonds via romantic relationships or friendships. Deep down, there was so much pain that was left unsaid and unheard. But she had found her joy in serving others and spending time with the children of Baltimore. It was rare for her to sing this song as she had never seen herself as perfect, but she often found herself saying it to her patients.

Now, here she was, thinking about her family and her patients. She hadn't seen them in a while, and she wondered about Charlie, the 16 year old female she had started on antidepressants, hoping someone was following up on her dose. And Mr. Everett with his chronic COPD who had finally set a quit date to his smoking. And Kaya, her 39 week pregnant patient who was expecting two twins following an emotional IVF cycle. This was her family and she found herself missing them terribly. Alia even thought about her sister and her family, living in Toronto. They hadn't spoken in weeks, but it wasn't from hatred, they just had two completely different lives. She thought about Kabir and Kiran, her 6 year old nephew and 4 year old niece that were her brother's children. He had passed 3 years ago, leaving two children with his girlfriend. Alia had never met them as they lived in Australia, but she often received emails with updates and communicated with their mom over email.

Alia couldn't help it as a tear escaped her eyes. She knew she should be planning her escape, but the emotional whirlpool she felt was difficult to ignore. Knowing that the women were close by and watching her every move, she made a point to quickly wipe her eyes under the guise of sneezing. As she sneezed, she was quickly handed a Kleenex box by a woman standing near her.

"Thank you. What's your name?" Alia gently asked, wondering about how these women ended up here and their story. That was her specialty and downfall as a human, she loved learning about people and ended up emotionally invested even where it served her no purpose.

The woman trembled, "My Queen, please don't thank me. I exist to serve you. My name is whatever you'd like it to be." Alia was shocked at her response. Everyone had an identity, even after the shift. It was made them all unique.

"Everyone has a name. What does everyone else call you?" She asked.

"No one here has a name, Your Majesty. Except for Liam and the King's second. We all have barcodes to indicate who we are. We refer to ourselves as slaves, My Queen, is that the name you seek?" One of the other women rushed to speak.

Alia's mouth fell open in shock. That was unheard of and unacceptable. Everyone should have a name, they are people, no matter their job. Seeing her shock, the women panicked. Maybe she didn't like that they were all the same name, she couldn't complain about them and have them punished. Maybe she thought they were tricking her!

Her Fear, His ObsessionWhere stories live. Discover now