Chapter Ten

The Victim

The night of the ball had been one of the worst nights of my life. Even after many years of living safely and happily, its very memory had choked me in my sleep and nipped at my heels in everyday moments. It took a great deal of time and patience for me to move on from that night.

As the afternoon hours ticked by on the old grandfather clock in the lobby, I grew more and more restless. When the time came for me to find solitary confinement, it was actually a great relief. I was surprised when Hanji led me up to Master's chamber, where Master himself sat waiting in his favorite reading chair. "You'll stay here, Eren. It is the farthest place from the ballroom and only a select few will have a key to the lock. Be silent, and wait. We will come and get you when the evening has ended." His tone was level and stern; it was that same tone that always went straight into my bones, making them bend to his will like the limbs of a marionette.

I spent the majority of my time pacing on the pads of my bare feet; being as silent as possible while utterly and completely anxious. The voices of the party began to drift up through the floorboards even from so far below me, and I could hear the jovial laughter as if it were poking fun at me. The weak, useless boy, hiding from some silly, fat man. They would say, if they knew. Everyone always thought my previous master to be a silly fool, until he let them see his true self. He was a cunning man; he had to be, in order to keep his filthy lifestyle a secret. It was that cunning that convinced my family, falling in to desperate poverty as they were, to sell me off as what they believed to be a servant. They thought I would have a happier life in the care of a noble- Reeves wanted them to believe that. I can't imagine ever revealing the truth to them.

I stop my pacing and fight my body into a chair- Master's favorite chair, where I can envelop myself in his scent and pretend that he is in the room with me, protecting me. The book he gifted me is clutched tightly in my hands, like a lifeline, and I am nearly halfway through it. The soft sound of the pages turning and the single flickering candle flame overtake my hearing; drowning out the sounds from below as if hypnotizing me. Eventually my heart has calmed it's hammering, and I find my tense muscles relaxing into the plush seat. I have no idea how long has passed when a small knock sounds from the door, and the sound of a key turning pulls me away from the story.

My heart picks up its relentless pace again as my nerves get the best of me, but then Hanji's head peeks around the frame. I feel myself melt back in the seat, like a deflated balloon, and the large sigh I let out only furthers the metaphor. "How are you holding up, Eren?"

I look into Hanji's eyes, much softer now than when we first met, and see small glimpses of the woman he could have been. I have spent so long seeing Hanji as a man that the feeling is so strange inside and it makes it hard to look directly at him. I think he senses it.

"Are you going to keep avoiding eye contact forever?" Polished black shoes appear over the floorboards I've suddenly found interesting.

"I-I'm sorry. It's just a little strange. I don't want to upset you."

"You'll upset me more by acting like I'm diseased."

I look up to his face then, and I see the hurt there. It is odd, because Hanji has such a practiced mask that it often rivals Master Levi's. I don't like the look on his beautiful face. "Help me understand, then. I can't stop calling you heand him in my mind, but when I look at you-…" I trail off, not sure where to go. A large hand ruffles the hair on my head tenderly.

"Since you arrived, Eren, this whole house is upside down. Somehow I knew it would only be a matter of time until my secret was revealed. I only ask that you not tell anyone. Everything that Master Levi has built for us would come crashing down, if certain things don't stay secret." His pained face attempts a smile, but it's crooked and half-hearted. "As for what you say in your mind that is all up to you. But I'd appreciate it if you could forget what you saw, and go back to only seeing me as a man. That is the way I prefer it." I nod, feeling his hand press my hair down flat.

"You are just Hanji to me. My teacher, and my friend. Of course I can forget it, if that's what makes you happy."

He smiles a real smile and backs away; back to student and teacher. "It does. Can I get you anything?" I shake my head and thank him, and he leaves quietly. I don't settle back in to my book until I hear the lock click back in to place.

My conversation with Hanji replays in my head, distracting me so that I have to read over a few sentences twice. I decide that regardless of what Hanji has under his clothing, he is still a man if that is what he wants to be. I blush with happy emotion, thinking of how much closer I feel to him now, and how much warmer he seems to be around me.

Another hour or so passes and I hear a knock again, but when it opens it is not my teacher I see. A lanky looking servant comes in with a platter of fine food- obviously from the ball's menu. He pours me a glass of champagne before I can decline it, and disappears quickly. The food smells divine, but I still have little appetite thanks to my nerves, so I only manage a few nibbles. The champagne glass sweats next to my meal, looking lonely and inviting. I've never had alcohol before, nor do I know the legal drinking age. When I nervously take a sip, I am greeted with a delightful fruity taste that fizzes on my tongue, and empty the glass quickly.

Minutes later, I can already see the influence of the alcohol in my vision. The words of my book are impossible to read as they sway to and fro, and whenever I lift my hand to turn a page it moves strangely, looking foreign to me. I feel a cold sweat creeping up on me, and loosen the top buttons of my shirt; silently hoping that Master doesn't suddenly make a visit and see it. The bow tie around my neck comes loose with ease and I sling it over the back of the chair roughly as punishment for clinging too tight to my throat.

I have no concept of time once under the influence of drink. All I know is that my single candle is burning low, and the food is cold when again there are footsteps on the stairs outside the door. I watch the shadows move under the crack of the door and await the knock that always comes before the sound of the key in the lock. It doesn't come.

Instead, the doorknob is twisted sloppily and the wood shakes with the force of a push. I freeze in my place for a moment, hovering over my seat, halfway out and halfway in. I heard two sets of footsteps.There were two people out there. They didn't knock.They tried to come in unannounced.They are trying to open a locked door.Neither of these people possesses a key. They are uninvited.They are not allowed. They are….

I snuff out the candle and straighten fully on my feet. I sway immediately, and curse the champagne, swearing off alcohol for the rest of my life. With a quick glance around the room I spot only one hiding place I can fit- under the bed. What are you, Eren, a child!? I sloppily walk to the closet and open the door as quietly as I can in my haste. It creaks, as it always does and I knew it would, as I close it again behind me. Again I find myself hiding from these men in a closet, behind a layer of old coats that smell of mothballs. Why must life bring me around in circles?

The heart that had finally calmed is now in overdrive; beating painfully in my chest as if to make up for lost time. The cold alcoholic sweat is now hot and sticky, and my breath blasts me in the face over and over again, with nowhere to go among the dusty cloth around me. I feel claustrophobic. I feel like I am already back in their grip, back in that disgusting house, down in the tight crawlspace of a basement that isn't big enough for one person; let alone myself and the others. Only it's just me now. I wouldn't have to share. Because the others are-

I hear a bang on the door, although muffled, and I'm positive it's Reiner's large muscles at work.

DEAD. They are dead. And it is my turn. I'll end up like The Boy With No Teeth!

I see images of his tall, lanky form huddled in our small space. His skin is dark from dirt, but I can see spots of his pale complexion peeking through. His dark hair was always disheveled, but Master had let him keep it short, and his bright eyes always looked stony and determined. I admired that look; adopted it as my own as time went on. He taught me that I could be strong, even if I was hurt. I try to summon that strength now, but the heavy coats pressing me into the closet wall seem to stomp down my willpower.

Remember what Princess once said to you? Remember how you promised each other a journey?

Princess was the only one of us who had long hair. It was a beautiful blonde color and it made his eyes gleam even when they were sad. Master used to dress him up like a doll and show him to us, hoping we would make fun of him for it. He fed off of our despair. Of course we didn't; we were all dolls to Master. One night Master had dressed me up in a gown, and sent me downstairs in it after he had finished fucking me. Princess just took my hand and smiled a sad smile, and distracted me with stories of his home town by the sea. We said we'd go together. Princess taught me that there's more to this world than dirty basements and horny old men.

The door gives a painful groan when the wood splits. It is loud and clearly audible through the closet door and thick coats. I wonder if anyone heard it and is coming to investigate, or if this is where I will die; in my new Master's closet next to the trunk of toys that have captured me while setting me free. How ironic.

"There. There's food on the table, Master." I hear Reiner's familiar voice rumbling deep in my bones. I hate him for being such a willing helper. "And the candle's still warm."

"He's here. Find him."

That voice.

"He's here, find him!" Master had said.

We'd spent hours combing the house for No Kidding, before he'd been given the name No Kidding. He'd disappeared after a morning session with Master, never showing up in the basement as he'd been told. All of the staff and us slaves still present- a much smaller number than Master Levi's group, but it was a smaller house- were made to search every space in the house big enough for a body. Eventually he was found out back, in the yard, chasing around the goats and chickens like it was a game. I remember seeing his shaved head bouncing around on the other side of the livestock fence, and I could hear his laughter. When Master got a hold of him, he nearly died. He was chained down in our basement permanently then- that is, until his seventeenth birthday.

"Why did you do it?" Princess asked him once he was well enough to speak. "And if you were out, why on Earth didn't you run away!?" He looked genuinely alarmed and upset over what had happened.

"I just wanted a bit of fun. I can survive everything else… but never having a laugh… never having areasonto laugh, that's the hard part. Besides… I don't have anywhere to go."

That's when we started calling him No Kidding, because now that he was chained up, he couldn't sneak out to have his laughs anymore.

Now I don't have anywhere to go.

The sounds of shuffling feet and furniture scraping the floorboards eventually halt, and I feel my breath halt in my throat along with it. The room is completely silent suddenly, and I fear I may piss myself any moment. If I could see through walls, I'm positive I would see the two offending men sneaking towards the closet door as if it were a volatile animal.

The silence is deafening, as they say, and it drones on for the longest moment of my sure-to-be-short life.

"Good evening, again, Mr. Reeves." Master's voice is intentionally loud, and dripping with malice. I jump just slightly, but manage a relieved breath. My lungs are grateful. "To what-" I can hear the controlled rage even through the muffling layers between us. I have never been so happy to hear my Master angry before. "-do I owe this visit to my chamber?"

There is a long pause where they are likely shuffling, scattering, like flies from a free meal, and I hear the low sounds of their sloppy excuses. I cannot make out any more words, and in moments it is completely silent again.

The sweat drips down my body, tickling my skin uncomfortably. I don't dare move until I am either positively dying or saved. In the stretching calm, my heart slows again and my breathing grows even. I hear footsteps at last, and the door to the closet opens.

"Eren?" Master's voice is low, practically pleading with me to be in this dark corner. I slide the barrier of clothing apart and take deep gasps of fresh air. "Eren." His hands are on my shoulders faster than I can focus my eyes on him, his grip tight and steady. I am certain that I will fall to pieces if he ever lets me go. "Are you alright? They didn't find you, did they?" The relief of being in his presence is dizzying, and all I can do to stop it is to stare hard into his eyes while I try to speak.

"I… I'm okay. I'm alright." He visibly relaxes, his grip loosening and his shoulders hunching as he releases a breath. I watch, perplexed by his reaction, as he stands up tall and dusts his clothing that isn't dusty. "They didn't get me… but I think they know I'm here. At least, they know someone is here. Someone you wanted to hide." I stand on shaky legs and follow him into the room. I see Hanji in the doorway, inspecting the splintered door frame silently.

"I know, it's alright. I don't think they will attempt anything again any time soon." He eyes the table I'd abandoned, my food left mostly untouched and the champagne glass emptied, as well as my bow tie slung over the back of his favored chair. His eyes dart back to my neck and I reflexively fist my hand into my shirt, holding the loose buttons closed. I watch his pupils shift with emotions he won't show on his face until he seems to settle on a softer one that I've never seen from him before. I am frozen down to the blood in my veins when his cool fingertips brush away my hand, and begin re-buttoning my shirt for me. My pulse is back to a hammer for a very different reason now, and I feel a sickly tickle in my stomach that makes me inexplicably giddy. When his hands have moved away, I find air again. "I must return to the party. Remain here. There will be someone guarding the door from now on." He backs away from me as if suddenly nervous, but spares a stern glance at the table. "Eat something." I watch him leave, feeling nauseous from emotional strain and quite possibly the champagne I'm sweating out. The door closes with a painful grating of twisted metal hinges and splintered wood. There's a gap between the handle and the frame just wide enough to let in light, and I can see Hanji on the other side of it, like an immovable sentinel.

I pick at my cold dinner and Hanji delivers me a glass of cold water, which I drink greedily. I don't pick up my book again, as concentrating is the last thing I will be able to do next to sleeping or laughing. Instead I sit in the chair again, wrapped in Master's scent and imagining the ghost of his fingertips, gentle on my neck and migrating around the sensitive parts of my flesh. I know that will not happen. Master wants only my submission and his calculated release. My own pleasure is not on his mind, and I would never ask it to be. Still, I can imagine it, if only for comfort and distraction while alone in his private room.

It is well after midnight when the noise from downstairs subsides and Master's steady footsteps climb the spiral. I had drifted at some point in the night, in the comfort of the chair, and the sudden shift in sounds brings me from the threshold of sleep quickly; my body still on high alert from the evening's events. When he enters the room, I spot the servant at the door- Hanji's replacement, as they descend, leaving us alone. The ruined door sounds haunting as he closes it calmly.

His face is a mask again. There is no sign of the inner turmoil I glimpsed hours before. He is the controller again. He is the Master, and I am the servant so deeply in his debt that I am drowning; begging to be saved.

Before he even opens his mouth to speak, I am back in the dark closet. My hands find the familiar leather handle of the trunk and haul it out to the center of the room. I don't look at his face, or even his feet. I watch only my own hands work at the locks with the keys that now hang permanently around my neck. When the top flips open on well-oiled hinges, I back away and stand with my shoulders hunched. My eyes look at the floor, off to the side where my neck is exposed to him. I am in the presence of the alpha. Somehow I am not afraid, or even nervous, as I normally am. Although it is always a nervous excitement, right now it is just plain excitement energizing my veins. Suddenly, I am confident that I will do well and that my master will be pleased. His dress shoes tap menacingly on the rug as he examines first the trunk and then me, as if it is all new to him. The corners of my vision blur, but I almost make out his face that seems to be amused.

"Very good, Eren." The sultry tone is nearly a purr, sending the tickle back into my belly and lighting a fire inside of me. "I love that you know just what I want." He circles me like a predator, so close I can feel his warmth. "Tell me, Eren. What do I want you to do now?"

I swallow and feel my tongue stick in my dry mouth. His words dance around my ear, breathy and daring. I have no idea if this is one of those rare moments he is ordering me to speak, or if he is asking himself the question more than me. After a moment of silence, I get my answer in the form of his foot on the back of my knee. The impact isn't hard enough to injure, just a push to get me to my knees. "Speak." His mouth is centimeters from the shell of my ear, and I begin to suspect he is teasing me quite purposefully. "What do I want you to do, Eren?" My name is like a mantra, and every time he uses it I am less and less me, and more and more his.

I give another thick swallow of my nerves and lace my fingers behind my back. My forehead bows down until it touches the floor, exposing my wrists and neck and displaying them for him in a way I suspect he will like. I am intoxicated, and I am positive the champagne is no longer in my system.

"Submit, Master." I give him his answer, and am rewarded with a dark chuckle that shoots straight into my groin.

"That's right, Eren. Good boy."