Chapter 4A

“Are you okay?” He asked, alarmed. I guessed that if I became fatally ill under his watch he would be blamed for it.
“Yeah, like you care.” I tried to relax, took deep breaths, and the sick feeling faded a little.
He sighed and looked away, and I wondered what he was thinking about. Why did people do things like this? Hurt people, kidnap people, steal, hate, lie. Why couldn’t everything just be perfect?
“I need the money.” He turned back to me then, his eyes searching my face, and he didn’t seem all that intimidating anymore, just desperate and lost.
I didn’t know what to say to him then, because I didn’t think I was supposed to be having a heart to heart with my kidnapper. So I nodded once, and looked away.

“You miss your friends, your popularity?” He inquired. He didn’t sound so obnoxious like last time when I’d broke down before him, so I responded.
“Yeah.” I thought, my friends, but I didn’t really care about the popularity. I would gladly be in Charlotte’s position and have my life back than die a slave girl.
“It wasn’t protocol to take you,” He said to me then.
“Oh yeah? You just wanted to inflict the pain?”
“No.” His voice was hard and cold.
“Then why-”
“It was protocol to kill you.” He stood up then, and glanced at his watch. “I think it’s time for the interviews.”
This didn’t surprise me as much as I thought it would. I had already heard him talking to his boss outside and trying not to have me killed. Killing me first would have saved them a lot of trouble. Roy must not be on very good terms with the organization, I thought.
I decided that I ought to feign a look of shock and horror anyway, as Roy didn’t know that I had heard his conversation. So I gasped and swallowed hard. It seemed pretty believable. Roy opened the door and shut it, and I heard him locking it from the outside. No more eavesdropping tonight. How would I ever get away?

And what were the interviews? Did every slave have to have some sort of bio? I hadn’t quite grasped it all yet. Would I have to do labor? I felt like dying right then and there.

A few minutes later, Roy came back in with a camera and a sheet of paper and clipboard. “What’s that for?” I asked, even though I knew.
“We’re supposed to interview you. Get to know more about you.”
“Why in hell would you want to know more about me?” I snapped, even though I knew the answer.
“So we can see if you’re going to tell other people or not, I suppose,” He lied through his teeth.
He was a good liar, swift at coming up with a reasonable response, and no change in his body language that would indicate his motives. I was always good at detecting when someone was lying, back at school. I would often know if one of the jocks was cheating on me just by the way he said he was catching a movie with his friends later. Mackenzie and the girls always said it was creepy, but I was a businessman’s daughter, I had to know if I was being cheated.
Today Roy’s black hair was more up and to the side, messier than usual as he had been tossing and turning and worrying about something. Maybe he actually had a conscience, I pondered, and felt bad about my imminent fate.
“Ashely!” He yelled, and I looked up, startled.
“What is your full name?”
“Ashely Solovan.”
“Where do you live?”