The General - S01 E04

6 months ago

The General - S01 E04

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 4

I look at our intertwined hands, and an Entertainer we pass freezes and stares, too. She can't believe what she's seeing.

This isn't good. Attention is never good because it brings gossip. I'm sure all Entertainers will hear about this exchange about the end of day, and if any of them are sweet on him, they'll come for my head.

My eyes are supposed to stay low and my spotlight dim. I don't need more gossip, labor, judgement, or anger.

The Master leads me to my favorite tree and sits on a fallen trunk. Even sitting, he's enormous.

"Start," he huffs.

I have to ask him to take off his shirt so I can access his gash. I can't say the words; they're stitched in my throat. I can't get myself to ask him to undress, because with these men, undressing only leads to one thing. I'm not interested in that one thing.

I could never be an Entertainer. Not when my insecurities are busy entertaining me.

"What are you waiting for?"

Damn it. I've made it this far. I have to finish.

"Can you remove your top, please?"

He swings the cloth with a speed that has me jumping back. He's quick. If he wanted to, he could snap my neck and I wouldn't realize it until I was dead.

When he lowers his arms, I come closer with the medicine. First, I inspect the area. The cut isn't deep, but it's pretty long across his back. I'm no medic, but every fool knows they have to wash their hands and use bandages to care for an open injury.

"I should wash my hands—"

"No need. Begin."

"Uh... okay. Can I touch you?" I blurt the question. He has repeatedly ushered me, but I still ask for permission. It feels like I'm breaking one of the Headmistress' rules, although I'm not even an Entertainer.

"I said yes already." Even when his words are impatient, he sounds monotone. It's eery.

I dip two fingers into the medicine and reach out cautiously for his dark red skin.

"Are you sure you don't want me to wash my hands first? This injury might get infected."

"We do not get infections easily. Ask your questions now."

I place the white cream on his strong back. He doesn't even stiffen. I notice that the cream hardens instantly, creating a cast-like coating. It's mesmerizing, really, but this isn't the science I'm interested in. I'm in love with psychology.

"What is your name? Can I ask that, or is it inappropriate?"

The Headmistress never mentioned a rule about this. Do Masters even speak to Entertainers before and after sex? It seems incredibly cold to be intimate with a stranger.

"Malik."

"Nice to meet you, Malik. I am—"

"A servant. I care not. Hurry on with your next question."

His callous treatment doesn't bother me. I didn't come here expecting us to become friends, but I want to learn a thing or two about how he thinks and feels.

I continue spreading the paste half-way across his strong back as I think of the next question.

"You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but can you tell me about how you feel in your Enraged state?"

He stiffens under my careful fingers.

"Angry."

That's all he says. It's an obvious answer. Of course you need anger and aggression to plow through enemies and win so many battles. Still, I'm grateful he answered such a personal question. I would be hesitant and protective of myself, too. His answer means I can get through to him. Maybe with time, I can get more insightful answers.

"Thank you. And when you were younger—"

"Enough questions," he interjects.

Disappointment cuts through me. The only meaningful piece I got from this conversation was his name.

I finish coating his back, and when I step away, I wipe my hand on my pants.

"You're all set. I don't think you need bandages for this."

He stands and goes right back to hovering over me. When he turns, his expression looks sterner than usual.

"That will be all," he dismisses me.

As he walks away, I say after him, "my name is Joan. It was nice to meet you, Malik."

He doesn't acknowledge me. He strides with his shirt in his grip, leaving me in the shadows where I belong.

I pick up my book and the empty medicine container and go to my tent. I read my book for hours, often getting distracted by the outside noises. My tent is located near the center of camp, where I'm available for easy access in case someone needs a mess cleaned up.

I'm about to change into my night clothes when someone enters my tent without permission. This is an often occurrence. No one considers that I actually need privacy.

An Entertainer stands there. "Are you good at sewing?" she asks.

I clear my throat and rub my sleepy eyes. "Uh... yes?"

"Good. Fix this dress. I need it by the morning." She throws the cloth at me and disappears without another word.

I sigh and check out the dress. I'll have to find proper lighting and my stitching kit to fix this rip.

I don't know how much time passes, but I know my finger gets pricked three times by a needle I can barely see under this lamp.

I'm slump asleep on my bed, the dress carefully folded on the edge.

As usual, I rise with the sun. There are no birds on this planet, so nothing chirps me awake. Instead, I hear the rumbling, chatter, and clanking of the outside.

After setting the dress by the entrance so it can be easily found, I clean myself up and step out to go to work. I'm surprised when I see Malik two tents down.

He turns my way, and my eyes respectfully drop to his chest.

Do I say good morning? I usually greet other servants, but Malik is nowhere near that status. Do Masters say hello to each other? I've never seen that happen. Don't these guys have friends?

I stare awkwardly at his chest for a few seconds, not sure if he's staring back at me.

"Malik."

The hairs at the back of my neck rise, because I recognize that voice. It belongs to The General. After our dreaded, horrifying meeting two days ago, I can't seem to escape him. He's everywhere. Then again, the man owns the damn camp.

My plans of going undetected until he forgets about me are failing miserably. Does he remember my rejection every time he sees me?

I think I'm the only insane female alive that turned that male down. If the Entertainers found out about this, they would sacrifice me. I already have enough drama going on because one female saw Malik holding my hand yesterday.

"Yes, General?" Malik answers and stays where he is.

That means The General is coming this way. That means it's time to get the fuck out of Doge.

As I scurry away, I realize that my earlier question was answered. The Masters don't greet each other, after all.

To be continued...