The hour hand had come full circle, and there wasn't any news still. There was no shuffling of feet, no one bursting through the door and screaming for his arrest. What was Tommy to do in this situation? Was it simply fate or a perversion of humankind that he found himself at the receiving end, heart beating fast?
Tommy had recognized the look in the madam's eyes the moment he stepped into the mansion three years ago to work as a servant. He had seen it from many others, men and women alike, when they saw him, even when they couldn't approach him in the past. But, now, things were different. He was a bereaved dog, and they were all waiting to devour his flesh. Fortunately, she wasn't wayward with the Master and young Miss around. But as soon as they left, she acted like she wanted to swallow him whole without spitting any bones, and desperate due to her numerous failures at seduction, she drugged his water and had the servants bind him to the bedpost. Tommy remembered fighting her touches with all that he had. He also remembered hitting and hitting anything that came close – until he opened his eyes to see the dead Madam covered in blood, her head bashed in.
And now he hid, cowering from the torture he would face. Tommy silently shed tears, something he hadn't done in thirteen years, something he didn't do even when his father was betrayed by his friends and he was sold into a brothel. He wanted to live. Was it wrong to desire more?