Fate

He calls me Fate. Perhaps he should be calling me Faith, for mine seems lackluster lately.

He asks many questions and he preys on emotion. So why is it I look forward to seeing him? Why is it I now tend to look for him daily in the parks, between my shifts in the arena? He stirs something alien within me, something other then curiosity.

I have thus far, been a lucky slave, a contradictory term in itself, but one that is no less true. I have no feelings for the man that owns me, nor does he hold any for me. In fact, the only emotion I have for him is one of fear.

I do not envy other slaves that love their Masters. I am not jealous of those that have gained their eye. I would not wish to be one of the many that are expected to serve in any and all concubine delights. But, having said that, I must admit that there is something inside me that bids release, something that yearns to be free.

Men are bizarre creatures. Just when I think that I understand, I find that I do not. I know them only through what the cards tell me, but sometimes even that is not enough. Other times it is too much.

He is different, though I cannot quite explain it. He draws me in, unlike any before him. He sets my body to quiver with just a look, though I know that can not be a good thing.

I do not wish to admit it, but I can hardly wait to see him again.