I was a tool; an object; a plaything for these men.

Those were the only words I had come to truly understand in those few days spent before Nadir and Erik were forced to leave for the Shah's palace in Tehran.

Erik was a selfish child, only caring about his toys when others wished to play with them. Nadir was better, but no saint in the slightest. He played with his toys only when all else failed and nothing more could console him.

But truly the Persian's actions were done out of grief. He was not of his right mind and neither was I. I can forgive our actions, but Erik . . . Erik is another story.

The sole reason of my staying in Persia for so long after was for Reza and Reza alone. Even now I can still picture that joyful smile on his face and see his immense love of life in his eyes.

Oh Reza! Forgive me for not being by your side on that day!

~

I was woken a few nights before they left for Tehran by the sounds of heavy footsteps stumbling haphazard and drunkenly through my apartments. Standing from my bed, I wrapped myself in a robe and ventured from my bedroom to see what the commotion was about.

Entering the outer chamber, I was startled to find Nadir collapsed upon the stone floor, his face flushed with alcohol and contorted with emotion with his fingers laced through his ink-black hair.

Nadir was a devout Muslim, and I knew the consumption of alcohol went against his religion. If I could smell the vile potion on his breath then something truly terrible must have occurred for him to forgo his beliefs in favor of the bottle.

I took a hesitant step towards his hunched figure and reached out a hand in a—hopefully—soothing manner. "Señor?" I called out softly, "Señor Kahn?" The Persian remained the same, seemingly unable to hear me over his quiet sobs. I pursed my lips and stepped even closer, resting my hand gently upon one quivering shoulder. "Nadir?"

He jumped at that, his head whipping up to face me. I pulled my own hand back in surprise at his sudden movements and for a few moments we just stared at each other before Nadir's lip began to tremble again and he dropped his head back down into his hands.

Taking a deep breath, I gathered up my robe and sat upon the floor beside the sobbing Persian. Throwing propriety out the window, I took one of his large hands into my own smaller ones and rubbed his knuckles softly.

"Nadir," I spoke soothingly. "Why do you cry so? Please, tell me what's wrong. Perhaps I can help you . . ." I trailed off as he gripped my hand and turned his gaze up to meet mine. The words he spoke made my heart drop.

"It's Reza . . ." he rasped in a whisper. "His disease . . . It will only progress and become worse and more painful, until . . ." He said nothing more, but he did not have to. I understood the fate that awaited the child I had come to love.

My hands began to grow numb at the news and not even the body heat of the man beside me could stop the shiver that penetrated deep into my bones. I felt as though I would be sick as the tears began to run down my face.

"What . . . What of Erik?" I breathed, my own sobs hiccuping in my throat. "He can cure Reza, can he not? He is a sorcerer—he—he can do anything!" Nadir just shook his head, and I knew his words before they even left his mouth. "Erik was the one that told me . . ."

I felt the world give out beneath me.

I was numb, useless. I could do nothing for anyone; could not console Nadir; could not deny Erik; could not save Reza . . . I loathed myself.  I was a failure. A disgusting failure as a caretaker and as a friend.

I clenched my eyelids shut, letting that melancholy self-hatred wash through me like a river. I felt myself drowning with no way out of these rapids. How dare Reza be dying while I still survived! How dare he!

I had never really believed in God, but if He truly existed, then to the bowels of hell with Him! How could He take an innocent child so soon and so painfully? There can't be a God, there just can't be!

I was pulled from my thoughts by Nadir's warm hand clenching my own trembling appendage tightly. The Persian's eyes were clouded with the same grief I felt as he slowly brought his face nearer and nearer to my own.

Those eyes . . . Filled with despair and longing—the longing to be close to another human—to feel what they felt and to be understood. I knew those eyes, for they were my own.

"Please . . ." Nadir whispered, his lips only a breath away.

I needed those lips, needed to take the grief away somehow.

I sat up and pushed my lips to his roughly, knowing that even pain would be a better sensation than this grief I felt. Mercifully, Nadir responded with just as much force, embracing me that night until my skin felt raw and my body was on fire. It was the only time I felt as though I could neglect all my worries and simply breathe.

Pleasure . . . Pleasure can drown out anything . . .

~

Nadir was gone when I awoke the next morning, and for several hours after I simply lied upon my bed, naked as the day I was born with my tan skin covered in marks and bruises. It had been my first time ever being with a man.

Had he stayed with me 'till morning I might not have become so cross with him, but he fled and left me to fend off my demons alone. It would only be after several years that I would forgive him for doing so.

At length I stood to wash and dress myself, realizing that Reza would be worried if I did not appear soon.

My heart ached in my chest thinking of the child, but I smiled all the same as I made my way down the hall to Reza's room.

I paused just before I turned into the boy's chambers and listened to Nadir's voice as he tried to sooth his son while Reza screamed of his hatred for the Shah. The boy had confided in me previously on his feelings, and I knew he only said such things because the Shah was insisting upon Erik and Nadir's arrival at his palace. Already the two men were fairly late, and by the way he spoke I could sense that the Persian did not wish to push the boundaries of his luck any further.

I was just about to rush in and console the child, when I barely heard Erik's voice from inside the room call out to him softly, gently. The tantrum stopped—everything stopped.

And just like that I was once again a puppet caught in her master's spell, just as I had been the night we first met as children.

"Come to me." I heard Erik whisper to the boy, and I had to physically stop myself from gliding into the room at his irresistible command. Instead I pressed my back to the wall and closed my eyes, tilting my head to the ceiling—just listening to that voice as he spoke.

Erik could control anyone he wished to with that voice of gold. He could topple countries, command armies, lure countless victims to their demise, all without lifting a finger. I was suddenly reminded of my mother's long ago words.

Erik . . . He is surely the devil wrapped in human flesh!

I had once again become so lost in that voice that I did not even hear when it ceased, nor did I see its owner until he had caught me by the sheer fabric of my sleeves. He still never truly touched me unless it was necessary.

I gasped when I felt my clothes be grabbed. My eyes snapped open to meet the intense yellow glare behind the mask. Erik, I could tell, was immensely angry.

I was about to speak, to prove my innocence of my eavesdropping, but Erik was having none of that. Instead he pulled me after him as he walked down the hall with long, silent strides.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, I myself angered at his sudden actions. That corpse of a man did not speak a word until we entered the secluded apartments of Nadir's home that he had claimed for himself.

"I had believed I made myself perfectly clear when I told you I despised it when others touched what is mine, but you seem to have ignored me, or perhaps you merely forgot." Erik's voice was cold and venomous, and the air in the room suddenly turned frigid as I realized that he had full knowledge of my and Nadir's actions the previous night.

My heart began to race and my stomach churned dangerously as he dragged me through his apartments. "H-How . . ." I breathed aloud, more to myself than to him. Erik let out a mocking bark of laughter. "I know everything that happens here, poshratt! I am like a phantom that haunts these halls!"

He suddenly pulled me close just outside the entrance to his bathing chamber, his eyes aflame with malicious rage. "And I am very greedy about what is mine." He growled so lowly I was sure that had I been any distance further from him I would not have heard his words.

My limbs were numb and trembling and we stayed that way for a few more seconds before he pushed me almost violently into the bathing chamber. "Strip." Erik ordered coldly, bringing a chair forward into the room and sitting down in an effortlessly regal position.

My pounding heart nearly stopped at the word.

"E-Excuse me?" I breathed, unsure if I had heard him correctly. I could tell that Erik was scowling at me behind the mask as he folded his arms over his skeleton's chest. "I said strip, poshratt. There is a water basin and soap behind you. I want to see you wash him away."

His voice was cold and unfeeling, and I felt the blood rush to my face in both rage and embarrassment. "I bathed this morning." I hissed. "And I shall not strip naked before you!"

I could see that smug smirk in his eyes and hear it in his voice when he spoke next. "This should be nothing to you. I am your husband, after all, Tzipporah. You said it yourself, I bought you. And a husband can do what he pleases with his wife. And it would please me to watch you bathe away another man's touch."

My breath hitched at the dangerous tone with which he spoke his commands, and it left no doubt in my mind that Javert had not been the last person Erik had killed, not by far.

I could feel my body trembling at that unspoken threat, and I was sure that I would begin seizing at any moment from his gaze alone. In fact, I began praying to be overcome in that instant, but I had denounced God, and the seizures never came.

I stripped slowly, ashamed at my own actions and terrified to go any faster than what was deemed necessary by those unblinking sunken eyes. Erik watched every move that I made without reaction. It was only when I was fully naked that I noticed the subtle clenching of his fists and how his addams-apple bobbed when he stared. "Now wash." He growled lowly, though I could still hear the lustful waver of his voice as he crossed his long legs.

That was when it occurred to me that no matter how horrible he was being, he was still holding himself back. The very thought of what he wished to do—what he was refraining himself from doing—made me shiver so violently that I almost questioned if I truly was having a seizure.

I bathed slower than I stripped, making sure to scrub my skin until it was bright red and tender to the touch. There was nothing I could do about the bruises and marks that Nadir had left, and while that seemed to only frustrate Erik further, he said nothing of it.

When I finally rinsed myself of soap for the last time, Erik produced a robe and tossed it to me. "Cover yourself, poshratt. You cannot go about looking as you do now." He grunted, standing and gliding swiftly out of the washroom.

I did not see him for the rest of the day after that . . . And he and Nadir were gone for Tehran the following morning.