They returned, drenched with sweat, blood and grime. I refused to meet Onew’s eyes. Even though I held no place in his memories, my Onew would never stoop to such lowly levels – murdering innocent mortals. Minho galloped towards us imperially, his face flushed, but his fiery eyes lit with the immensity of his recent victorious achievement. There was no question that Master had won. He had captured more, murdered more and snatched the lives from so many more. He jumped down from his steed and instinctively the girls shuddered and stepped back. My eyes ran over the long cut that bleed across his arm and the nasty, cruel sword he held in his other.

I walked towards him and asked, as coldly as I could, with those precious brown eyes boring into my own, “Should I dress that wound?”

 He stopped and looked at me closely. I assumed an uninterested air. “Is something wrong?” He asked me, his deep tones resonating inside my flustered self.

“No, why do you ask?” I replied keeping my eyes directed down.

           He shrugged and with an abrupt cough, he pointed to his disfigured arm. I nodded and fetched a ragged piece of cloth wet with as warm some water as I could obtain. I slowly pushed back the long, reddened sleeve and began bathing the raw bruise.

“Did you win?” I asked, scrubbing diligently at the wound.

He looked towards the sun looming over the horizon and smiled, “Yes, we did. And I’m going to win so many more.”

I sighed pitifully deep within myself and asked, “What are you fighting for?”

“Land, slaves and…” He paused dramatically, “Power.”

           I looked over at his face, searching for a slight tinge of remorse that might betray his gleeful conduct. I wondered if he felt any penitence now, as he recalled the ruthless slicing of humans. Did he benefit from it all?

           Master Minho stood up all of a sudden, upsetting the pot of water resting beside him and breaking my train of thoughts. He walked around a few times and then strode straight towards the horse. “I’ll be back in a while.” And saying so, he galloped away. I bent down and picked up the pieces of the wrecked pot and threw them over the heavy cluster of bushes. My legs gave way and I slumped down on the ground. Out of pure instinct, I suddenly turned my neck around only to see Onew staring intently at me. Was he beginning to remember me? But as I recollected the harsh things he had done to the powerless mortals, my blood began to boil. An overpowering urge to shake him vehemently came over me. I just wanted him to see the enormity of the horrifying things he was doing. I met his searching eyes and immediately he turned away. But, I couldn’t forget the tremor of pain that ran across his face, before he shifted his gaze elsewhere. It was almost as if he had been asking for pardon and I had insensitively admonished him.

             And, so the new routine had begun. Master and his army out to fight, they return victorious, always and Master turns more powerful by the minute, taking a sort of sadistic pleasure in watching people suffer and snatching their feeble lives from them. Week after week, the routine never changed. With unfailing exactitude, everything would go according to the habitual custom. Master accumulated scores of slaves more, numerous servants more. His manner changed, every word he uttered was underlined with arrogance and sarcasm. His movements clearly highlighted his superiority and his attire was strikingly different from before.

              I loathed this turn of events. Master seemed to be changing every hour. He was more confident, almost sure of himself. As much as I adored him, there were times when I wished to death that someone would wipe that self satisfied smirk off his egotistical face. Everything seemed to change; he no longer paid any heed to me. He had found himself a bevy of new ‘beautiful’ maid servants and his only use of me was for hurting. Hurting. As he amassed more power, his desire for inflicting pain and ache seemed to increase dramatically. It seemed as though he felt tougher when he saw the blood gushing out of a wound he had caused or when he saw a person cringe as he struck hard on the layer of slight skin. I was present and was thriving, it seemed to him, only as a medium for him to vent out his emotions on. I’ve lost count of the number of instances when he harmed me, hurt me. And, after a while, I even stopped caring. I became immune to the pain. But, I could never turn immune to the touch of his hand. Feeble, feeble will.

                Onew, if he had remembered me, if he had just been the Onew I knew, I’m sure he would have never let that slayer touch my cheek. Onew would have held Master’s hand back compellingly. I know it. Onew, isn’t that you? Wouldn’t you have done that? I desperately seek reassurance.

                  Every week is the same; the throng that follows the Master seems to multiply largely. He’s forgotten me completely now. And yet, yet I don’t desert him. Like a fool, I follow him and bask in the glory of my one sided affection. Aren’t I weak? Weak and timid? I completely acknowledge my shortcomings. But, I warrant some leverage. When Master materializes into the representation, the reasonable and practical division of my mind ebbs away and I’m left a blubbering fool who worships him eagerly.

                 A fortnight later, we rode up to a mammoth, regal palace. I gawked open mouth at its intimidating opulence. Even the mere structure commanded admiration. Its tall golden gateways glistened in the morning sun and the jagged spears that stuck out of it seemed thinner and deadlier in the light of the daybreak. But although that fortress was fashioned impeccably, there seemed to be something ominous about that massive structure that forestalled you and made you think twice before taking a single tread towards it. Its leveled cuts spelled out peril and every column that stood elevated, reminded you that you were not worth even merely glancing at it.

Master stopped in front of that structure and surveyed it with evident pride. His eyes never once leaving the palace, he said vociferously, “This is my new home and your new quarters.”

            He stressed ever so slightly on that word ‘my’ and I was struck anew by that conceit and haughtiness that emanated from him. I stared at the palace and saw it in a whole new light. The palace clearly reflected our Master’s persona. Daunting, imposing, it reached out towards the skies. Sly creepers curved stealthily round the mighty pillars and the mere figure of the structure promised you hazard. I had wondered what he had used the riches he had grabbed so imperturbably from the people, and here, before my eyes, was the answer.

             And, since then, he became a true monarch. He rested imperially on his bejeweled throne and lived with a permanently jaded expression on his face. His eyes still had the same vigor and passion that had drawn me towards him earlier and he knew he could obtain almost anything in this world.

           But, I soon came to know, almost wasn’t good enough for him. He needed everything, or else nothing. Even after attaining the finest of the assortment, his desire for power was insatiable. He still went out on battles and wars and won them almost too effortlessly. I wondered weakly, when was this lust for authority going to end?

             We were soon bustling around the palace, too many servants even for such a large palace. I had lately grown to watching Onew’s movements discreetly whenever I had next to nothing to do. He intrigued me. I often saw him sighing in despair and clutching a torn piece of paper to his heaving chest. I couldn’t bear to watch him for too long as my thoughts were inevitably turned back to that time before Master had entered my life, and my Onew had departed. Onew, come back to me and help me out of this miserable existence!

               My disposition changes persistently, by the minute. At times, I want to rush out, wrap Onew in a firm embrace and just run away, run away from that cruel man who ruined our lives. And, at times, I forget about the busy world that seems to go on without me and my wayward thoughts remain focused on that one beast of a man whom I love to death. Emotions – Strange, capricious things. They stab you inwardly and gnaw at your flaws. They hurt subtly, almost inconspicuously, and you become aware of the appalling damage caused by them only as you watch your self-control disintegrate into insignificant clouds of dust.

                My torso aches bitterly and cries out for help. I can bear it all and live on with you, Master. I just need a word from you; a word that assures me that you still care for me and remember me. I need to know that someone in this world needs me. I need an embrace to remind me that I’m strong. I just desire encouragement and hope.

                That foul, greasy piece of vermin, how dare he lay even a finger on my Taemin? That cruel, miser, his nerve to touch that precious child. What wouldn’t I give to defy him? But, words are empty. Although, my anger quivers within me, it does not cloud my logical senses. I wish it did. I wish I was more impulsive, more heroic that I wouldn’t stand for the torment on my Taemin. I long for that mad, burning passion that will drive me crazy and propel me forward to do fanatical, wild acts. Maybe then, I might save Taemin from that cruel treatment. Maybe then, I might be able to tell Taemin that I do remember him so clearly and minutely. And that I love him dearly. Maybe then, I might have the courage to whack that ruthless ogre and make him understand and feel the pain that the other goes through while he does the same. But, that isn’t happening anytime soon. My mind is much too meticulous and practical to engage in wild bouts of fanaticisms. I’m cowardly, hapless and too rational. Maybe dying has changed me.

                I do want to come and save you, Taemin, but, circumstances are hard. I repeatedly feel punctures that pain me as I stare at those reproachful eyes of yours. I’ve let you down, haven’t I, my love? Even though I pretend to not know you, you can feel my actual self surfacing, can’t you? I was never one for acting and to add to that misfortune, you know me only too well.

                 Taemin, I want to explain to you. I want you to listen to me and understand the trouble that tortures me. I want to earn back your trust and I want to see your face dimpled with elation again. If you just knew what I had to face, you wouldn’t judge me so harshly. I am not the horrendous fiend you make me out to be. I’m the same, just slightly changed in matters of life. I am going through a lot and I’m trying to make sense of it all.

                  I spat out instinctively. I went over my earlier train of thoughts and I realized how very selfish I sounded. I keep thinking about myself, the hardships I had to endure, the pain I had to suffer. Taemin, forgive me. I forget the torment you go through. The torture that vandalizes you is much more in immensity than the measly pricks of pain that annoy me. I have to tell you the truth and I need you to know at least my side of the story. But, even more than that, I need to be able to look you in the face with a guiltless heart.

             Oh, Taemin, how much have you tolerated? How much has your feeble body suffered? I close my eyes and picture you, thin, trembling and silently crying out for help. I want to slap myself into hell. How could I have been so heartless? My metamorphosis has changed me into a cold, unfeeling beast. I’m no better than Master Minho himself. Where he goes around killing mortals he barely knows, I do the same by hurting the only person I do know.

              Taemin! I’m going to tell you the truth! I realize now, that there isn’t any need for a wild passionate frenzy. Just the awareness of the value you hold in my life is enough to throw caution to the wind. I’m coming to confess to you and help you make sense of this labyrinth of confusion. I’m going to tell you everything and then, we’ll go against that Master together. We’ll destroy him together and live our lives normally again. I’ll get back the Taemin that laughed gleefully incessantly. I’ll get back the Taemin I knew.

              A niggling doubt eats at my mind. Will Taemin believe me? Would he turn his back towards me? Would he agree to go against that fiendish Master? I wonder. But, those queries won’t stop me from trying. I’ve got nothing to lose. I’ve already lost my life and except for Taemin, there’s nothing I value in this world.

             But, my cowardice springs back into action and I can’t help wondering what would happen when Master comes to know of me flouting the stringent laws of silence. Would I be beaten mercilessly? Would I be deported back to the devil? I question myself repeatedly. But, even so, I won’t step back. Taemin deserves to know the truth and he shall, whatever the consequences may be. That soulless master can spoil nothing of ours. Nothing! Taemin, you’ve suffered too long…

           Today seemed unusually long. I just went around the huge mansion, aimlessly. I wish I could get lost in the long corridors and remain rambling there till eternity. But, my wishes are mere longings. Someone always finds me, and more often than not, I myself abstain from losing my way. Because that would mean losing Minho as well. I’m a wreck. I’m broken and my willpower seems to be ebbing away. I’m sick of the routine lifestyle. I just want Minho to call out to me, reach out to me.  Minho, can’t you even do that for me? Am I that insignificant to you?

                He’s forgotten me completely, I know that well. He can’t bother to remember that person who set out with him on his journey at the very start and never ever went away. His mind refuses to acknowledge all the things I have sacrificed for him. His wounds don’t remind him that I was the one who tended to them. And, his eyes don’t recognize that one person who loves him in spite of all his ruthless, demeaning actions. I should leave. I really should. I should leave and go make a life of my own. But, my actions refuse to obey my orders. I will stay, even if I wish to leave. And I will go on serving Master, until the end of our lives. Such is my fate, the destiny that has been written for me.

                 My eyes seem to close involuntarily. I need respite, I’m weary beyond imagination. I want to overlook all the thoughts that keep me awake and just enjoy a serene night’s sleep. But, every time my eyelids meet, strange, dark thoughts envelope me, they surround me and I’m helplessly solitary to their number. I’m alone in my bed, overpowered by them. No one can help me then, and even if someone could, they wouldn’t. I’m on my own. Staying with Minho has strengthened me inwardly. I’m almost hardened, but even so, my feelings remain as feeble as ever. But, I’m learning to cope. That’s the only alternative I know. It’s either that or giving up forever.

               I close my eyes; rest my head against my cushion. The bed seems unusually stiff tonight. I wonder if it reflects my feelings. I shut my eyes tightly and keep repeating to myself, “I will only think of good things.” Words? Powerful? I don’t think so. Precisely the converse occurs. The same gloomy thoughts make themselves known. I’m too tired to resist. I’m going to have to content myself with nightmares tonight. I’m vulnerable tonight, thoughts. Come. Feed on my anxieties and fears. Destroy me….