Critical Error

I am a quiet person by nature, and while I am able to occasionally unwind among those I know well, there are many more thoughts that go through my head that are never spoken aloud. It is not that I don't want to say them, I simply lack the capacity to trust people to any extent, and thus keep almost everything close to the chest. Perhaps too, because I am a Scribe, I am not gifted with a talent for conversation beyond topics that are often trivial, and have trouble when it comes to conveying my feelings on matters of real import. It is a trait that my real mother tried to change, through her various means of manipulation, both mental and physical. I think many people misundertand it, and though in some instances I have managed to overcome it, this propensity is still oftentimes the root of my greatest dilemmas.

I may have made a most critical error tonight, and when I would have like to have discussed it, the presence of others prevented it. I had written a letter, and inserted it into the front of the journal, but because the new instructions had already begun being given out, no real conversation was possible. I don't know if she found the letter, and I left the shop with this large blank space in my brain. Why am I going to such trouble for a slave I don't even own, one that spends most of her time angry with me, even if she does feel something for me that isn't platonic? I can only say it's because I've watched her from the beginning, I've seen what they have done to her, and what they haven't trained her to do. I know she feels betrayed by what I dictated in the instructions, I saw it in her eyes, and watched her trying to serve the Slaver and the Physician while battling tears. When I left, the Slaver was asking her what was wrong, and no doubt she had many things going through her mind that were sealed off behind the behavior she thinks she is supposed to exhibit.

I am not looking for perfection. I'm looking for the desire to try and attain perfection, the eagerness that only comes into the eyes of a slave that truly wants to please men. So in the end, am I sorry for what I did? No. If anything, I am sorry I didn't do it sooner.