Chapter 25

Harrelson Territory

Three Years Ago

The next day, a small transport van moved slowly on the dirt roads through the capital. In the back, a familiar figure sat chained, bloody and beaten while surrounded by guards. Their destination was the center of the town: the Harrelson mansion.

The van violently rocked as it ran over a bumpy section in the road. Since the vehicle was old and the suspension was worn, it shook far more than expected. The familiar figure, Ethan, thought about using the slight surprise of the shake to attack a guard in an attempt to escape, but he held himself back as he knew that was a plan doomed to fail.

“I wouldn’t try it, boy,” the head leasher Darrell said to him as if he read his thoughts. “With those cuffs on you, you’ll be caught faster than a cat lappin chain lightning.”

Ignoring his rather confusing idiom, Ethan looked down at his wrists and stared at the Giovantine cuffs wrapped around them. Normally, they would only be on while he was being flogged. However, since he was riding in a small, rusty van, unlike the well made truck which initially transported him to the territory, he could escape quite easily if at full strength. Therefore, Darrel decided the cuffs were necessary to prevent that.

“You said that this next guy was even worse than you,” Ethan suddenly spoke up. “Since we’ve entered the city, I assume I’ll be transported to the Harrelson mansion, which would make my next ‘handler’ the big man himself.”

WHACK!

He immediately received a strike across the cheek from the head leasher. “You will call him by Master. Though, then again, you aren’t one for proper respect.”

Ethan smirked. “A slave’s respect for their master stems from fear. The problem for you is that I’m not fucking scared in the slightest.”

“You should be. You doubt me on this, but just you wait. That ignorance will soon be shattered, slave.”

And thus, the most pleasant interaction between the two thus far concluded as they arrived at the Harrelson mansion. The transport van drove through the front driveway and pulled around to the right side of the mansion where it came to a halt.

In swift fashion, the leashers who surrounded Ethan exited the back and quickly pulled him outside, opening up some of his fresh wounds and causing him a great deal of pain.

As he was pushed towards a doorway that led into the side of the mansion, grunts of pain escaped his mouth due to the rather aggressive handling of his person. The urge to slaughter them for their harsh treatment welled up inside him, but ultimately, he could do nothing.

He was dragged through an elaborate set of hallways before they reached a pair of heavy-looking wooden doors. The head leasher walked in front and pushed these poors apart. Passing through the doorway, Ethan was brought into the center of a large, neatly decorated and clean looking office, which contrasted the filthy state of himself and the other leashers who had spent all their time outside.

In front of him was a large desk, and behind that desk sat a middle aged man dressed in an expensive suit. He stared quietly and intently, which, for some unknown reason, sent shivers down Ethan’s spine.

This is Harrelson? What the hell is with this guy? His stare isn’t nice … but it isn’t hostile either. He’s looking at me like I’m some sort of prey.

His face cringed as Harrelson’s stare continued to scrutinize him. He could feel the other’s eyes carefully looking over his entire body. Even the other Leashers felt uncomfortable in front of this man, but they managed to repress the urge to leave the room.

The head leasher, noticing this, let out a fake cough to alleviate some tension. “Harrelson, this is the slave I told you about. I do apologize if he is a little … banged up.”

Everyone present, including the head leasher, felt that “banged up” was the sugar coat of the century. Even the guards in the room, who hadn’t any knowledge as to what had transpired over the past week, could tell that the slave was nearing death’s doorstep.

“He does seem a little worse for wear. I assume this is your influence, Darrell.”

“Yes,” the head leasher answered. “He has a propensity to go against the grain.”

“Does he?! So this one is a struggler, huh. That makes it interesting.”

Everyone, including the head leasher, flinched at his comment. Only Ethan remained as he was, unaware as to what caused the uncomfortable atmosphere. He just figured the reason Harrelson said that was because he was a sadist like the head leasher.

“Anyways, get him bandaged up and let him rest for a couple days. I would’ve preferred him to be in better shape but I won’t be picky.”

Harrelson’s stare shifted back to Ethan, this time looking him dead in the eye. He saw an unwavering determination in the kid, not to mention a burning fury and intense bloodlust. This discovery brought a disgusting smile to his face.

The uncomfortable feeling Ethan had previously felt returned. It was then that he realised why he and everyone else was so uncomfortable.

The stare felt perverse, as if he was being violated by a simple glance. Such a sensation, coupled with the fact that he was weakened by the cuffs, left him feeling incredibly vulnerable.

“Let him rest?” asked the head leasher. “If that’s what you want, but I wouldn’t recommend letting him stay in the house barracks with the other slaves. It’s possible he might kill all of them out of spite.”

Ethan, at first, wanted to deny this, but after thinking about it, he wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t do exactly that if he was angry enough. Either way, he was secretly thankful that they were giving him a rest period. Even if he was nutritionally neglected and left alone for those few days, it would still be vastly better than being tortured everyday. He knew his body couldn’t take much more punishment.

On a side note, one way for an Awakened to grow in strength is to be put through intense physical strain, so he knew he had probably grown in strength. However, with the Giovantine cuffs on, coupled with his injuries, he wouldn’t be able to exert any of that strength.

“That is a problem,” answered Harrelson. “I wouldn’t want him killing my precious property, now would I? Put him in the black box with the cover on. I don’t want to cook him out.”

The black box is a literal metal black box connected to the west wing of the mansion. Originally, it was built to punish slaves in mass. It’s an all mental cube designed to contain a handful of slaves. The ceiling covering the top of the metal box is removable, and if removed, exposes the box to the blazing sun all day long. Needless to say, it becomes very hot in the box. However, since it would be Ethan’s new cell, Harrelson ordered for the ceiling to stay on, since no human could survive the heat of the black box for days on end. Especially not with the injuries he had.

“Understood. Just, what are we going to do with the mansion slaves that need punishment now?”

“Who cares?” asked Harrelson. “Just through them in the box with him or something and don’t feed them. Obviously, ‘problem child’ over there will be chained up so he doesn’t kill them.”

“But isn’t that dangerous. He might try and convince them to stage a coup.”

“I wouldn’t worry. For one, the mansion slaves are the weak-willed types. They won’t revolt. I doubt many of them will even cause enough trouble around here to warrant being put in the black box with him anyway. At most, he’ll interact with maybe a handful of other slaves, so the amount of damage he could do from there is minimal. Besides, this would be a good way to house train him. That way, he could see what an ideal slave looks like while he’s trapped in there with them.

“Furthermore,” Harrelson continued, “I have no real other means of punishing the mansion slaves. I don’t flog them because they do delicate work, and I’d rather not have them dropping beverages because they're in pain.”

“Alright, I understand.” the head leasher then turned around towards Ethan and began pushing him out the door. “Move, slave.”

“So even with that ego of yours, you can still take orders from someone else,” Ethan said with a cheeky grin. “The world is a mysterious place.”

The head leasher continued pushing him out the door while grinding his teeth. On the other hand, Harrelson chuckled slightly at his comment and waved to him as he went out the door. Ethan thought this behavior was quite strange, but then again, he thought Harrelson as a person was also strange.

***

Ethan was dragged to the west wing of the mansion and then to an odd hallway which lacked any doors, pictures or paint on the walls. The only thing in the hallway was a thick looking metal door at the very end of it. Upon seeing it, and noticing that a single guard stood to the side, he immediately assumed it was the entrance to the black box.

He was correct.

Once the guard saw them round the corner, he opened the door to the black box and Ethan was thrown inside, splatting onto the floor with an awkward sounding thud. With the absence of his usual toughness, the small impact from falling onto a hard metal floor hurt tremendously, as it would for any regular human. He suddenly realized how much he had taken his power for granted.

The head leash stared down at him lying on the floor. “You get one meal a day, slave. Other than that, it’s just you and your injuries in here.”

Ethan thought this comment was a bit too tame, especially considering his earlier jab, and he was right. The head leash had said this out of spite before pressing his boot onto the other’s injured back. Ethan let out a small grunt as a result.

“Looks like your gash opened up again. That’s my parting gift to you.” Without saying anything else, the head leasher made his exit and the door shut behind him, trapping Ethan in a dark, humid, eerily silent box. Only a small peephole in the door provided any sort of light.

While the hole also let in sound, the guard outside made absolutely zero noise. Ethan questioned if he was even there or not.

Inside the black box was … nothing. It was just a black interior with the only decoration being dust, but with light being scarce, the dust was practically invisible.

He pushed himself off his abdomen and rested his back against the wall. Although that caused his lacerations to sting, everywhere on his body stung so it made little difference to him. He sat like this until nighttime, absorbed in his thoughts. Once the sun set and the little amount of light disappeared, he fell asleep.

***

The next day, he woke up in the same position he fell asleep in. He slowly looked around the room and let his eyes adjust.

Light once again crept in through the peephole, but he struggled to tell the time. His internal clock was usually reliable, but, in this instance, he hadn’t the slightest idea how long he slept. It was entirely possible that he had been out for over two days since he was recovering from severe injuries.

He tried to move, but an overwhelming stiffness and exhaustion kept him glued in his current position. He didn’t give up though since his tail bone was quite sore from sitting on a metal floor the whole time. After, he ever so slowly found the strength to stand up, his legs slowly found stability as he stretched his arms above his head.

“Guhhhh!” He let out a grunt as he felt his body relax and loosen up. Though he was still in horrible pain, it was not nearly as bad as yesterday. In fact, he felt slightly refreshed all things considered.

Turning towards the door, he yelled out at the guard through the peephole. “Hey guard! What’s the time?”

He figured he’d try it but he wasn’t expecting to get a response. Surprisingly, though, the guard actually answered. Quite casually too.

“17:00.”

Meaning he had slept for twenty-ish hours. Ethan was immediately glad he hadn’t tried to guess because he would have sorely underestimated how long he was out for.

He hadn’t noticed this when he first got up, but the shock collar which was normally around his neck had been replaced with a less bulky collar. Upon feeling it, he could tell that this one was made of Giovantine and that it replicated the power dampening function of the cuffs. For what reason it was on him, despite the cuffs remaining on his wrists, was a mystery.

Ethan also marveled at how they took his shock collar off without waking him up. Hell, they didn’t even move him away from the wall he was sitting against.

After confirming the time, with absolutely nothing else to do besides heal, he decided to do some light aerobic exercise so as to not open any wounds while still passing the time.

He did this for about any hour. During that time, his skin had become coated in a light glaze of sweat. As he was not used to moving without his Awakened strength, his muscles were actually quite weak without Geinta flowing through them.

Because his skin had turned damp, he took off the dirty rag of a shirt the guards had provided for him. The back of the shirt sported a blood stain where the head leasher had reopened the wound the day before.

It was then that his cell door began to open. At first he thought it was far too early to be called out since he was told he would receive multiple days of rest, but he immediately considered that they were lying. In fact, he felt like a fool for taking them at their word.

However, when the guard came in, instead of dragging him out of the black box, he instead secured him inside it. He chained Ethan’s cuffs to the left wall.

Since it was the opposite of his expectations, he was decidedly dumbfounded. The guard took notice of this and said, “You’ll understand.”

Ethan was also surprised at how friendly the guard was. Not only did he tell him the time, he also took the opportunity to respond to his expressions. Ethan felt that such a guard was widely out of place amongst the other leashers.

Said guard then brought in a female slave dressed in maid clothing. She was crying quite loudly. Ethan surmised she was familiar with the ‘black box’ and that she had no way of knowing that it had been decommissioned as a sweatbox since becoming Ethan’s new home.

The guard dragged her over to the right wall, slapped a pair of cuffs on her wrists and chained her there. Her cuffs appeared to have also been made of Giovantine, but since she wasn’t an Awakened, they might as well have been regular cuffs.

After securing her, who was still bawling and pleading, the guard then walked out, nodding his head at Ethan as he did so. Once again, Ethan felt a strange sense of respect and goodwill towards the guard. Normally, he wouldn’t think twice about such gestures, but it's amazing how the deprivation of kindness will change your outlook on human interaction.

With the door to the black box shut, Ethan, for the first time, got a good look at the female slave sitting across from him. She was quite beautiful, or at least she should be but at the moment she wore an ugly cry face.

Staring at her as she continued to sob, his thoughts could help but turn sour.

Fuck, and I was just starting to enjoy the peace and quiet.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it and opened his mouth. “Hey! Shut the fuck up!” he shouted, causing her to jump in shock at his presence. While crying, she hadn’t noticed him up until then.

“If you would take five seconds to calm yourself,” he continued, “you would notice that it's not scorching hot in here! Besides, they wouldn’t put you in at the end of the day when it's cooling down if they wanted to sweatbox you!”

She looked back down at the ground, and, without stopping her tears, fired back, “But what about tomorrow?! They could keep him in here through tomorrow while letting it heat up!”

“They won’t. Not while I’m in here at least. Besides, is the sweatbox really that bad? I think whippings are far worse.”

“W-whippings?! Will they do that?!”

Ethan just stared at her in disbelief. ‘Oh good fucking night. Did she just ask that? Isn’t it common for slaves to be whipped?’

But he then remembered what Harrelson had said earlier. “Oh right,” he said. “Y’all house slaves don’t get whipped. Must be nice. But seriously, sweatboxes aren’t that bad. Just power through the headache and you’ll survive. It doesn’t even leave any scars.”

“Don’t fucking lecture me! You obviously haven’t been in one before! If you had, you’d hate it too.”

“Um … I have. Don’t go assuming people are as weak as you. You remind me of the girl from my transport. She was a weak little shit as well.”

That’s when the female slave stopped crying and looked up. She was finally able to look at Ethan’s face now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark.

Upon doing so, she saw a familiar face which had stuck with her. “Y-your the psycho from the ride here! The one that went on a rampage!”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “Oh shit … so you actually are the girl from the transport. Well, that makes sense. I see that things haven’t changed over the past week. You're still as annoying as ever.”

“Fuck you. Not everyone’s a psychotic bastard with a death wish!” she snapped back. He was definitely not helping her current state of mind.

“I don’t have a death wish. I just don’t let the fear of death dictate my actions. Besides, death would almost be better than living like this.”

“Then why don’t you just kill yourself?!”

“I refuse to die in a place like this. But hey, don’t throw my words back in my face!”

Momentarily confused, she thought back to her previous interaction with him. During transport, he had advised her to kill herself before they arrived at the Territory since she couldn’t handle being a slave.

“Heh,” she laughed bitterly, her voice filled with sorrow. “I can’t believe you remembered that. After everything that’s happened …”

Unable to complete her sentence, tears once again welled up in her eyes, having been reminded of the past. Only a little more than a week had passed and yet her previous life felt years behind her. The days plodded on at an unbearably slow pace as she had spent every waking moment wanting to go back to her family.

“Oh, for fuck sake,” Ethan sighed. “To be so broken after being forced to do house chores. What, the head maid too strict on you or something?” He could not help but mock this girl.

Anger slowly welled up on her face as she curled her hands into fists. She knew that she was chained to the wall, but she could help but want to run over and punch him on the jaw.

Suddenly, the peep hole in the door opened wider. On the other side was the guard’s face staring into the dark room.

“Hey, I just caught word that Harrelson will see you tomorrow, so prepare yourself.”

At first, thinking this warning was for her, she started trembling at the notion of meeting the Master, but her worries were dispelled when Ethan opened his mouth to answer.

“I appreciate the warning.” His respect for the guard grew even more.

Finished, the guard closed the peep hole, closing off the source of light once again. Though, before he did so, something interesting happened.

The female slave, who had only seen Ethan’s figure enclosed in darkness, had caught a glimpse of his entire body thanks to the light. She had seen his injuries.

Without his shirt on, the hundred plus lacerations covering him from head to toe had been laid bare for her eyes to see. She unintentionally gasped at the sight.

The two sat in darkness, completely silent. She stared at the ground, unable to get the vision of his scar littered body out of her head. She imagined how much pain he must have endured. How much he must have suffered over the past ten days. That many whippings in just ten days!

Furthermore, she imagined how much pain he was in at that moment. That’s when she realised. While she was complaining about her suffering, whining and crying about how horrible of an experience she had gone through, he had sat there and bickered with her while in unfathomable amounts of agony. An incredible sense of guilt began eating at her conscience.

“Sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“You're not even curious what I’m sorry for?!”

“Not really.”

‘I’m going to punch him if it’s the last thing I do,’ is what she thought but she did not say it aloud.

“I … was complaining while you were in a lot of pain. So, like, sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I never expected you to give a fuck about my suffering in the first place.”

“No, that’s … nevermind. I was just feeling guilty is all. Take my apology or don’t! I don’t care either way!”

“Fine! I’ll take your damn apology. Geez.”

“What’s with the attitude?! Ugh, I hate you.”

A silence once again overtook the room. With the way the conversation ended, the silence only served to be awkward. The female slave tried to endure it but eventually became too restless.

“W-what’s your name?” she asked to break the ice, slightly embarrassed to ask the same person whom she just proclaimed to hate.

“Hmm? I thought you hated me.”

“S-shut the hell up and just answer me.”

“That’s quite the contradictory statement. How should I shut the hell up while answering? Sign language? Sorry, but if you can’t tell, my hands are chained at the current moment.”

“You know, nevermind. I didn’t want to know that badly anyway.”

After a brief moment of quiet and a loud sigh, Ethan finally answered. “My name is Ethan Blade.”

Her eyes widened in surprise as a slight smile formed on her face. “Then, I’m Melissa Till.”

They stared at each other without saying another word, which also made her slightly uncomfortable. Eventually, she started feeling like his stare was a bit more scrutinizing than usual.

“What?” she asked with defensive body language, distraught over being stared at so intently.

“Nothing. I’ve just noticed that you don’t like silence. You seem to get uncomfortable whenever you and I aren’t talking.”

“O-oh. So that’s why you were …”

“By the way,” he cut her off, “You should really offer your own name first before asking for someone else's. Didn’t your parents ever teach you manners?”

“W-wha…?! You’re one to talk about manners!”

“So, why are you in here? The black box, I mean. I assume you fucked up?”

“No! Well … yes but … I broke an expensive vase.”

“You had one job.”

“AGH! You know what … I do hate you!”

They continued to bicker until they fell asleep that night.