I remember watching Disney movies. I used to love how pretty the Princesses were; how much they prevailed with their kindness and bravery. Through highschool, I used to think that the mean girls would get what was coming for them. Then, I arrived in planet Zolan and I realised I have some mean girl in me, too.

The parasite of survival made me do mean things. I've robbed, I've thrown people under the bus, I've lied, and I've wished ill on others. I'll never be a Disney Princess. Maybe that's why my arms haven't gotten used to the strain of carrying buckets and burn every time I pick one up. Maybe this is my punishment for being a mean girl disguised as a servant.

Today is a new day, but it repeats like the past hundred. My jobs are so repetitive.

I feel happy when Yippy, a dog-like animal, yips around my legs as I carry the buckets to camp. He's a smart little thing, but he likes to explore so he often disappears for weeks at a time. He's sweet, too, often bringing me fruit. It's always punctured and salivated, but I still appreciate the gesture.

"I missed you," I laugh at him. I wish I could put down the bucket to pet him, but I know I won't be able to pick it back up, so it's best to keep going.

I wish for a lot of things— like trimming his unkept brown hair that covers his eyes and legs, but I don't have the luxury of time. I'm not an entertainer that can sleep around with Masters and play with furry friends all day.

Yippy leaves when I get too close to camp. He doesn't like the noise that comes from it. I tell him to be careful in English because I forgot the Zolano word for "careful," and I watch him go.

My lower back is killing me, and the sun so hot I feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. I think I over-filled this bucket, and I'm fearing that I won't make it. I look down at my muddy sandals, and the wet bottom of my dress, which sticks to my skin.

I beg my legs to not give up on me.

I used to beg whichever God was listening to let my crush return my feelings, or let me pass an exam. It's funny how things change. It's funny how you realize how frugal your wishes are once you're living frugally.

A figure appears between two tents in the distance, and panic splashes me when I realize it's a Master. He's too broad to be anything else.

It has been three days since The General made the absurd, eye-brow raising command to meet his eyes whenever we cross paths. I don't know anything about what goes through that man's mind. All I know is that we're on different spectrums of domination, and that someone as lowly as me has no business looking into his stormy eyes.

Maybe I should have fucked him after all. Maybe I wouldn't be the center of his attention after he found out that my body wasn't made to shelter his. We're not compatible in nature or sex. I'm too submissive; too small in both senses.

I'm relieved to see the Master is Malik, and not The General. Although I was cleared to meet The General's eyes, I look at Malik's feet because this Master didn't grant me such a privilege. Hell, even if he did, I would hesitate. I have no business swimming in the haunted gazes of these mysterious warriors.

I keep my head low as I pass him, and the bucket seems to become heavier. A great amount splashes out when Malik stands in front of me and I freeze.

"That is heavy."

Yes, and it will become heavier if he doesn't stop making useless observations and stands in my way.

"Give me it."

"Uh..."

"Now!" he snaps.

I set the bucket down and jump away from it.

Malik takes the thing single-handedly and stomps into camp. I have no option but to scurry after him. I can't let him take my bucket. Not after all the struggle I went through to get it this far.

Malik walks with a speed I could never achieve while carrying that thing. I jog to keep up to him, whispering to stop.

"Please return it. Please. I'll get in trouble if I don't take it to the well. Malik?"

He heads right for the well. He ignores the Master that has an Entertainer bent over the brick wall and dumps the water into it.

"How many more?" he grits.

"Huh?" I ask, struggling to hear him over the sound of clapping flesh. I'm keeping a respectful distance from the rutting Entertainer and Master because, well, I'm not interested in that show.

"How many more buckets!"

"Two?" I answer, unsure why he's helping me.

Within a minute, Malik makes two trips that would have taken me fifteen minutes. I stand there dumb folded as I watch the male's feet come and go, and as I hear the Entertainer's ass get clapped louder.

After the two trips, Malik stands before me with an empty bucket.

"Thank you?"

He throws the bucket at my muddy sandals, and then he leaves without another word. I don't know why he's upset or why he helped me.

"Lazy whore." I turn to find the Entertainer tying her ripped skirt together. The Master that ridden her is fixing his pants, and leaves without a word just like Malik.

I highly doubt the Entertainer is calling the Master a whore. No, the comment was directed at me.

Not wanting any trouble, I move to my next station. Now that I'm on Schedule C, I no longer have to wash and repair shoes. One of my new duties is to check the hunting traps; a job I hate. The traps are made to capture and deadly injure small animals. The cooks don't like animals that have been dead for a long time; they like the meat fresh. That means I have to collect whimpering, bleeding, tortured small creatures.

Instead of healing them, I have to direct them right to death's doorstep.

I'm not a vegetarian, but I see no sense in extending the pain of the creatures.

A small trickle comes from the sky, and becomes a pour within seconds. Instead of going for the traps, I jog to my tent. My duties will have to wait until the rain lets up.

I run faster when I remember the hole in my tent I haven't patched up. By the time I reach my little home, I find it drenched. I cry out in frustration and fuss to find the nicest dress I own. It's leather, and I've never worn it. The material is water resistant, so I slap it over the hole. My bed is wet, but I saved most of my belongings, including my book.

The pour lighten after some time, but it keeps falling. I'm still mopping most of the water off my mat when I hear shouts coming from outside. My heart jolts, because I know the camp is in invasion territory. Enemies could attack any day.

I peek out and get ready to book it, and find two Masters tumbling in the mud like a tornado of mass destruction. They snarl and punch so hard I swear vibrations bounce off and ring through my own bones. It's like gladiators from the ancient times fighting for their life.

Some Masters stand nearby and watch, but I inch back with every blow.

Mud splashes up, so does blood. In seconds, they land dozens of blows and growls. No one dares to intervene. At least not until the broadest male in camp runs to them like thunder to join the rain that's falling.

It's The Commander.

He says no words as he bends at the waist and reaches for the two brawling Masters. With a growl that has me gripping my tent tighter, he lifts the two men by the neck— two men that each weight over 200 pounds, and slams them on their back so hard that mud sprays everywhere. He keeps them pinned by the neck, one on each hand.

"ENOUGH."

The men still, the onlookers still, and so do I.

Holy fuck.

"Three-hundred laps around camp, both of you. No stopping. No Entertainers for three days. No meeting my gaze for three months. Do this foolishness again, and I'll squeeze your necks so hard your spines will pulverize!"

He stands and throws the men apart. "Go!"

I jump away from the entrance as if The General was speaking to me. He would make Satan piss himself.

The rain falls for another hour, and activity at the camp resumes. There's a low buzz about the Masters' fight. I don't see The General again, but I get frequent glances of the two punished Masters that jog their three-hundred laps around camp.

It's time for me to check the traps. I hope they're empty. I really don't want to pluck suffering animals.

The walk to the outskirt of camp is short. There's a wooded area here, but it's not home to any dangerous animals. There are some pretty poisonous plants, though, so I wore my pants long dress to protect as much skin as possible.

The path is littered with debris from the winds and muddier than usual. I go in deep, looking for the red ribbons tied to the trees that indicate they have traps.

I'm at the heart of the woods now. It's eery to not hear any birds, but normal since they don't exist here. When I spot a ribbon far away— a little glimpse of red, and I pick up my pace.

A gasp escapes me when the ground gives out from under me. I fall one or two feet, when I feel warmth engulf me. My body is flipped, and then I and whoever holds me fall some more.

I think I'm screaming, but that dies in my throat when I slam into the ground.

I look up instantly, and I find daylight very, very high up. I fell into a hole— we fell into a hole.

My eyes look down, ready to find Malik's gaze. It feels like I'm falling again when I find The General's face inches from mine.

I fell into a fucking remote hole with The General, where no one can rescue me. I'm on top of him, but I don't think this is what he had in mind when he asked to fuck me.