Page 2 of Enslaved

He is the other half of my soul.

But what do you do when the other half of yours is black? Or worse—somehow came into this world without a soul. Maybe, it got lost in the stars, never returning to earth.

What irony, a real Greek tragedy.

So, who am I now? Besides a woman walking around with half a soul, a wrecked heart, and a broken mind?

I rise from the chair to open the window. The breeze flutters the hand-made lace curtains.

I still felt him.

He’s looking for me, hunting for any trace of me on every corner of this earth.

He wouldn’t stop.

He swore he’d never let me go. I was his for eternity and beyond. And I know someday, someway, in this life or in what lies beyond—I’ll never escape him. His darkness is in me now; half of my soul bound to the dark hole of his.

A soft knock on my door had me turning from the breathtaking shores of the tiny Greek island where I sought refuge. My eyes appreciated the view, but my heart couldn’t feel it.

“Jessie?” Yaya, the kind old woman came in, carrying a tray with black coffee strong enough to wake the dead, and a pile of freshly baked Greek pastries. “You’re too skinny, eat.”

“I can’t.”

She sighs, placing the tray down on the dresser. “Whoever he was…he’s not worth it.”

“No, he isn’t. But all the same, it is what it is. I-I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same.” A tear slid down my cheek.

“Ah, you can heal now. The tears are ready to fall. Let them.”

So, I did. I finally let go of the scraps I was holding myself together with. She held and rocked me like a baby as I let myself weep for the naïve girl I was before I met him and for the woman I am now, missing him and wishing I never left.

I cried in her soft arms for at least an hour. Finally, I raised my head.

“Do you need a doctor?” She asked in a sympathetic voice.

“No. He didn’t hurt me in that way. Besides, I’ve had my period since I left him. No one can know I’m here. He’ll find me if you tell anyone.”

“Who is this man…so powerful that you fear?”

“Christos Devillo.”

A stunned look passed over her face as she digested my words in silence. She crossed herself then stood. “The devil must never find you. I’ll keep you safe. Rest, eat. Someday, you’ll dream again child.”

“I can’t imagine I ever will. All I do is have sweetest nightmares of him. I’m so ashamed. The things he made me do…things I wanted to do. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror.” I broke off, hoarsely.

“Eat.” She replied, patting my hand while walking out talking to herself in Greek as she went.

But I couldn’t even look at food. I felt sick—sick to my stomach every waking moment. My mind is consumed with memories I both wanted to forget and re-live at the same time. I’m at war with myself. I pick up the coffee, taking a few slow sips. I close my eyes remembering how it all started, months earlier.

It was a day much like this one. So beautiful—one would think it couldn’t be real, much less the portal to hell. I never imagined a man so dark—even the devil himself would make the sign of the cross if they ever met, was lying in wait for me.

But I’m still conflicted even now what I would’ve done. What choice would I have made, if I knew the trap I’d be caught in? The wave of lust and shame that would crash over me, holding me under, drowning me in a sea of desire, turning me into a woman I hardly recognize.

A woman whose body and heart are held captive to her master.

A master whom I’ve run from.

A master who at this very moment—is hunting me. But I’ve covered my tracks well. And if and when I decide I want to be found—it will be on my terms,not his.