21 Sins by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Inspection

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“Sydney, how’s your pet project coming?” Tuck meets her in the hallway of the Detention Center with an affable grin for his casual inquiry.

“I’m still making my decision.”

His big face twists in consternation. “You gotta let go of her, Syd. One way or another. We have others coming through the system that’ll need her bed, and your attention. I’ll give you a week.”

“You said I had all the time I needed.”

“I thought you’d be done with her in a few days, once you got used to the idea. It’s been . . . what?”

“I don’t know how long it’s been. And I don’t care. I won’t be rushed.”

“Okay, so, what’s the big hang-up?”

“I need to understand what kind of life I’d be condemning her to,” Sydney answers pointedly, trying to remain calm.

“Condemning? You need a more open mind. Remember, it was her choice.”

Feeling her frustration rise, she doesn’t want to share her opinions with Tuck. He can’t, won’t understand her point of view. “Tell you what… I’ll have a decision for you by next Monday. That work?”

“Sure.” He smiles and walks off, waving.

That’s all he really wanted. An answer. Now she’s stuck with a commitment to the damned process and she won’t be able to save Melinda duBois by simply not deciding.

Sydney meets with the girl in her office, her agenda clear.

“I thought I told the matron to get rid of the collar?” she says. She looks at the thick chain around Melinda’s neck, unable to mask her irritation.

“It’s really all right,” the girl answers in her soft deferential voice.

“No, it’s not all right,” Sydney seethes.

Why this so upsets her now, she isn’t sure. The girl seems confused, too. She’s willing to placate, adjust, accept. Sydney is not. No, she’s not particularly submissive—unless she gets the benefit of a sexual payoff. Although, it’s likely that her sudden attention to the small matter of the chain has everything to do with the decision that is bearing down on her all too fast.

In a sweep of indignant, self-important emotion, she moves to the girl, who is sitting in the chair before her desk as she always does—her body upright with her hands passively in her lap.

Fiddling with the back of the chain, Sydney pulls it loose, unlocks the clasp and tugs it off, tossing it to her desk where it noisily clatters against the wood.

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“How long has it been since you’ve not worn a collar like this?”

The girl has to think back. “I guess it would have to be before I signed my contract. Wearing the collar is a requirement I’m obliged to keep.”

“Like being barefoot, normally naked, sitting on stools, not chairs?” Sydney rattles of sarcastically.

These are facts she’s well aware of.

“Yes, like that,” the girl confirms.

She steps back seeing Melinda without the collar, looking surprisingly naked, but more normal.

She’s back in blue prison denim, but now looks a little less like the chattel she’s been.

Feelings of power,

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