Another cold night on my own.
My mother abandoned me when she couldn’t feed me anymore. Ever since then I’ve had to fend for myself, trying to avoid the authorities.
I suppose I’ll be dining at Chez Dumpster again. If I sneak into the alley at just the right time, I can get what I need to survive another night. The restaurant staff always wants to chase me away; don’t they see they’re just letting good food go to waste? But I suppose their convenience and “image” are more important than my needs.
Good luck for me tonight: a half-eaten steak right on top. I grab it and run.
Now for a place to sleep. There’s a hole in the fence around the corner; it leads to a back yard where I can nap behind the bushes. I stroll down the lane not paying attention, when all of a sudden I see The Man staring me in the face.
I turn and run; no good, the guy in front of me was just a distraction. The real trap lay behind me — in the form of a pair of uniforms who quickly grab me and put me in the back of their wagon. Caught!
In this society I have no rights whatsoever. They can’t just leave me be — that’s disallowed by law. They have to put me somewhere, and if they can’t, they’ll just (shudder) dispose of me.
A ride downtown and they stuff me into the facility for the homeless. No charges, no reading me my rights (what rights?), no talking to me at all; just to each other about me. Nothing more to do tonight but crawl into the bed provided for me and go to sleep.
Come morning, and they bring me breakfast. The one saving grace of being here. I look around for an escape, but they built this prison well.
What’s to become of me? I’m in relatively good health, so no needle for me.
I look around. Tank, in the next cell, is a real bruiser so he’ll will probably get a working job. I’d like to do something like that too but a scrawny bitch like me can’t offer anyone any such thing. But the worst is to become a lonely E-slave.
An emotional slave. No duties, no responsibilities, just an emotional crutch for a lonely someone. Everybody wants company, someone to come home to. Either a family or an individual; someone who can’t get a companion any other way. An emotional boost at my expense; companionship on an occasional basis, only to be forgotten about when my presence is not required.
There goes Tank. It looks like he’s getting a job in security. Good food, a warm place to sleep, and most important, something to do during the day. Everything he could want, except of course, his freedom. That’s never coming back.
A creepy guy, about 50, comes in and starts staring at me. He wants to take me with him! He talks to the guard on duty, then disappears to “fill out the papers”.
He’s going to call me Sandra. Hey! I already have a name!!
Pretty soon, he’s taking me away, to his home, which is going to be my home for the rest of my days. My life as I knew it is over!
Sex between us is of course out of the question. But we get to his place, and he lives alone (correction — he lives there with me now). Anything but this please!
I have my own bed and as much food as I care to eat (goodbye, Chez Dumpster). And we go out for walks, but I am not to go out of his sight, ever.
The next morning he’s bustling about. He’s getting ready to go to work, and I’m not going with him. Hey!! Don’t turn out the lights!! Too late. It’s as dark as a cave, and he locks the door behind him. Nothing to do but go back to sleep.
Hours and hours of nothing to do. Misery, thy name is loneliness!
I would give anything to be with my own kind. Tank was pretty cute, you know, and I would have liked to have had a family of my own someday, but I’m sure that will be forbidden now.
After what seems like an eternity, the door lock clicks and my master comes in. I just look at him. He wants to go out for a walk together; that’s the one bright spot in my day.
Outdoors, I look around to see if some of my former fellow inmates are there. No luck, but I become pals with someone in my station. We enjoy being outside together, but all too soon he’s telling me to come back inside with him. (I’m even getting used to him calling me Sandy.)
A snack, and he settles in to watch TV for the night. I’m allowed to cuddle up to him on the couch; in fact, that’s one of the things he expects of me.
The next day is Friday, and he goes back to work, leaving me alone in his apartment. I hate this!!
Then the weekend comes, and we spend more time together. He’s the one causing my suffering, and yet I look forward to our time together — what else do I have to look forward to? But I know Monday is coming soon.
Day after day, on my own from just after breakfast to just before dinner. He’s happy to have me there; I keep him from having to spend his evenings alone. But who’s looking out for my needs? I meet his emotional requirements while he trashes my own. He probably thinks providing for my material wants is good enough.
The key clicks in the lock again; I run to him. Yes, I am glad to see him; while he is the cause of my suffering, when he’s with me it’s much better than being home alone. He doesn’t see how miserable I am during the day; he only sees what he sees.
I give him a big, sloppy kiss. I am his, and he knows it.
I am an E-slave.
Copyright © 2016 by Jennifer Freeman
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