Disclaimer: Bioware owns some.

A/N: This chapter is rated MA for underage non-con/rape, violence, and some language.

Chapter 2

I was left well enough alone after the wretched hag fell. Even the guards seemed more wary of my presence, shifting subtly in their stances, hiding the boredom on their faces. Looking back, I had become even more of a pariah than before and the household staff eyed me suspiciously, whispering loudly in the halls when I passed by. They didn't quite know what to make of me and they were scared. During that time I questioned why Arch even kept me around, but all too soon I realized the truth.

I believe it was in my fifteenth year when he took me for his own pleasure, hot breath and male stench polluting my senses. Pain throbbed within my body, searing like a bright lance as he forced himself inside me. I had not known what to expect and had been deceived by his kind words and encouragement. Arch could be very charismatic when he chose to be.

He plied me with drink and sweets, with the promise of a hot bath and expensive soaps. I ate up his kind attention, rarely having known the like, and fell for his ruse when he presented me with a new book: an asari classic which, roughly translated, was titled Eden. Warmth filled me and a feeling of excited happiness that I had thought forgotten overcame my better judgment. I forgot myself. I should have realized, should have known what to expect; and when he kissed me I withdrew from him, suddenly shocked by this new form of attention. He smacked me then, sending my mind reeling and knocking my new book across the floor.

I remember the hiss of the cover as slid out of my grasp, skittering wildly along the cheap stone tiling. I remember worrying more about the safety of my new treasure than that of my own body. With simple, cruel ease, he plucked up my wiry frame and dumped me into the hot water of his fancy tub, scrubbing me harshly with his expensive soaps. I endured the torment as I always had thinking it was nothing I was not used to. I had much to learn yet.

After he cleaned my body to his satisfaction, he tossed me on the bed, his anger still seething from what he perceived as an insult on my part. I had displeased him, had not allowed him the right to a simple kiss, and he made to sure impart how very disappointed in me he was. He ripped his belt from his trousers with an oddly strange sense of grace and proceeded to beat me with it. I curled into a ball and attempted to protect my small, fragile body, doing my best to remain quiet. I had believed that crying out would anger him even more. Once again I had been wrong. He wanted me to scream.

The beating seemed to last for hours, the sick smack of leather against skin filled my ears and still my mouth remained closed. I was stubborn. I should have better learned to be subservient, although I think that would have also earned his ire. His arms never seemed to tire and his determination was ever growing. I tried to burrow deeper within the covers, only to have him curse that my blood had stained his sheets. It was then that his arousal was evident, and he took me on the mess of the bed, adding my virgin blood to the soiled sheets.

I had hobbled back to my quarters after he finished with me; aching, defiled, and I remember wondering why adults would find pleasure in such a sadistic experience. Of course, too late I realized that Arch prided himself on sadism. He and his fellows would often boast of their sexual escapades at the club while eyeballing the dancing whores. Arch took sick pleasure in starting his conquests off young, breaking them, training them, bending them to his will. My body was so broken after his first use of me that I doubted I could ever live through another "session." I was wrong. It is amazing how resilient a single person can be when they have no other options.

I returned to scrubbing the floors after that, tired and weary, my wounds healing over. It was during one such routine day that Arch's wife returned home. She paused as she walked by me, her gaze drifting over my hunched figure, and I remembered my place. I ceased my work and sat back on my heels, eyes downcast, acknowledging her presence and awaiting her orders.

Rough hands yanked my face up and I met her eyes, dark and voluminous, filled with the spark of disgust. She recognized her husband's handiwork on my face, the dull ache of the bruise having faded in the passing days. She searched my eyes, aquiline nose mere inches from my own. Her perfume was heavy and nauseating in its potency, but I kept my disgust in check. She, however, did not.

Her face crinkled with disdain, eyes glowering with anger, and she drew back and hit me. Fortunately for me, her strength was not that of her husband's, but I knew enough to fall to the floor regardless. Her vengeance delivered, she stormed through the household complex to her rooms. I never did hear the argument between Arch and his wife, but the whispers of the household staff echoed through the halls the following day.

I learned to despise the times when Arch's wife was home, even though when she was not he would use me for his own. I learned how to avoid his beatings, to please him, and garnered some twisted measure of respect for the man when it came to the consistency of his passions. I learned to cry out at the expected times, to groan with pleasure, to please him in all manner of ways that a woman can. I learned what was expected from me, and in order to preserve my own safety, I gave it to him.

His wife was not so generous. When she returned home, she would take one look at me and know. Her beatings were erratic, spontaneous, and I never learned when or where to expect them. She grew inventive in all manner and methods of torture, from brutal violence to random humiliation. I remember before leaving on one of her trips she stripped me naked and had me run down the corridor where the house guards bunked. The hoots and howls of laughter, the catcalls that followed were nothing compared to the trickle of villainous laughter that escaped her perfect lips.

Their arguments grew worse, and the whispers of the servants echoed frequently through the hallways. I remember whenever she came home something would break, the result of her temper as she tossed her cheap decorations across the room. Often she would request my presence to clean up the newly made mess, stepping on my fingers and grinding them into the jagged debris on the floor. How I wanted to take those pointed feet and jam those heels in dark, deep places, but I refrained. I had learned patience.

I remember with distinct clarity the night Arch's wife didn't return home. He was lounging on his favorite chair, flipping through the vids while I dried the dishes from the evening's supper. Arch could have bought a machine to do those simplistic chores, but he considered it more impressive to have a live being do it for him; another exercise of his power, and more color for his persona.

He had been watching Vaenia, commenting on the two actresses gallivanting about the screen. I had only seen bits and pieces, but found nothing remotely interesting about it. Arch had just fallen asleep, rugged face almost peaceful in the dim light, when one of his guards burst into the room. His anger was palpable, as I had grown very familiar with his mannerisms by then, and he struck the guard for what he considered an insulting lack of respect. The guard stammered and sputtered, eking out a sorry apology that only served to infuriate Arch even more. It wasn't until he spat out the words "accident" and "explosion" that I realized what had happened.

Outwardly I professed sorrow and regret. Inside though, I was celebrating.

It seemed that Arch's wife had met with some poor luck on her travels. A faulty accelerator had been installed on her cab as she visited Nos Astra. From what I was able to piece together from the gossip, she had lost control of the vehicle and slammed into a sewage disposal unit. The impact caused the unit's fuel cells to rupture and the resulting explosion spread biological waste over a mile radius.

Sometimes patience paid off and sometimes fate was a bitch.

Arch played the part of a distraught widower, mourning his wife's loss in public and garnering the sympathy of his fellows, but his first thoughts were directed toward me. The very night he learned of his wife's death, he had my meager possessions moved to better quarters while he lavished attention upon me. I had never enjoyed a soak in the tub more than I did that evening. I didn't even mind that Arch was in there with me. My appetite for revenge had been satisfied for the time being.

I was required to join him almost every night after. "Jin," he would say. "I need you."

I would dutifully comply, knowing that if I did not the punishments would be severe. I admit I had grown to like the attention at first, the gifts he gave me, believing that my situation at the time was far better than it had been. In some ways it was, in others, not so much. The household staff still whispered as I passed them in the halls, sharp looks and snickers followed in my wake. I paid them little mind as I was now dressed in better clothing than they, had better quarters, and had Arch's favor. What little they could do did not hurt me.

I continued my duties as usual, although after learning of the fate of Arch's wife, scrubbing the cheap tiling actually became enjoyable. My days were filled with the monotony of a slave's life, moving from one task to the next, mindless toil to whittle away the day. I learned to be thankful for the boredom of those days, learning later that the days of others are not so bland and peaceful.

At night, I would attend to my duties with Arch, heed his requests, and answer his calls for pleasure. His tastes for flesh rarely varied, and neither did his appetite for pain. I always knew what to expect from him given the instruments, or lack thereof, present in his room. But compared to others, Arch was a simple man. He never indulged, or even imagined, the volatile tortures of the flesh that I learned of later. His ignorance is the only reason I still embrace a small kernel of love for him.