Snippet #2427291

The slave I had been shoved into was not happy. Perhaps one would call it angry, or, as I saw the look on his face, downright hateful. His glare wasn’t half as bad as the queen’s, but still, I wanted to curl up in a corner and die.

“While I realize you got pushed by the queen, I also realize you probably did something stupid, and thus it’s your fault,” he said angrily. As he saw my mouth open, he continued. “And don’t argue, just GET MOVING and FOLLOW ME!” While I had opened my mouth, it had been to breathe, not argue, so I didn’t see the justification for the phrase ‘don’t argue with me’, but I complied like a good little sheep. He led me down another corridor (who would’ve guessed?) to a set of double doors, and I asked, quietly:

“What’s -” I was cut off by him smacking me across the face, and yelling:

“This is the slave showers, damn it! The males are on the right side, females on the left. There are towels and servant uniforms in there, as well as soap to wash your body with. Put your current clothes in the basket for the dirty uniforms. The queen hates it when her slaves aren’t clean. So, why are you standing there with your jaw hanging? Huh?” I snapped my jaw shut and ambled across to the double doors, opened them, and turned to the right. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other slave eyeing me with interest.

Am I really that interesting?

I saw communal showers similar to what I had known on Earth, and shuddered.

I hope no one else comes in. I hate showering with others watching.

So, I washed myself, and luckily, no one came in. I had been quick, about three and a half minutes, but I didn’t know what the time schedules were around the... Hell? Underworld? Whatever. I dried myself off and got dressed in the demonic looking servant uniforms the slave outside had been talking about. They were red and black, with a sash of gold for around the waist. They weren’t the most comfortable things ever, but I supposed that is was out of my hands. I walked out of the double doors feeling slightly less scared than before. This place couldn’t be that bad... it had showers! But wait, this place was terrible... because of communal showers. As I was debating with myself whether to be more or less depressed, the slave from before showed up.

“I see you got yourself clean,” he said approvingly and angry at the same time, as if he was disappointed that I could wash myself. “Come on, I need to show you your room.” I followed him down yet another passageway, until we came to a segment with many doors rather close together. I didn’t dare speak, lest I got another slap across the face.

“Here is your room. You’ll be sharing with another slave, whose name escapes me now, but she will be here when her shift is done. Your shift will start tomorrow. Make sure you don’t oversleep.”

“How long are the days -”

“Twenty-four hours, idiot, just like everywhere else! Eighteen hours of work, six hours of sleep. Even demons know that humans can’t survive without sleep, even if they can go days without it without ill effects. ‘Nuff said. Bye.” A thought suddenly struck me.

“She? My roommate is a girl?”

“What did you expect? Them to give you a boy? Girls get girls, boys get boys. End of conversation.”

“But I’m not a girl!” He stopped walking away. He turned and said very quietly:

“You’re... not? Then what are you?”

“I’m a boy!”

“How old are you?” he asked suspiciously.

“Sixteen! I’m sixteen!”

“You are not!” he exclaimed in disbelief. “You look like, thirteen!”

“I just haven’t hit my growth spurt yet, I guess...” I mumbled, trailing off with my cheeks burning. This was rare, someone mistaking me for a girl, but when it happened, it was so embarrassing. “So, am I still gonna room with a girl?”

“No, we can’t have that... here, there’s an empty boys’ room over here. It’s yours now.” He pointed to a door. “Go.” The slave turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me simmering in embarrassment. I ran over to the door, pulled it open, stepped in, and shut it. I saw a two cots, one on each side of the tiny room. I collapsed on one of them, shutting my eyes and trying to remember what my life had been before this. Amazingly average, but that was all I remembered. Maybe the trauma made me lose my memory. I began to breathe deep, and in no time, I was asleep.