In The Bathtub By Kain Vinosec I am owned. I was bought and paid for nearly five years ago by a man that needed a slave. He is a wealthy man. He owns houses and other people and cars the likes of which you only dream about. He does not pay me for the work that he forces me to do. I am essentially his whore. My name is Jason. The man that owns me goes by innumerable names and coded sorts of titles. He asks me to call him Fervie. It is a playful name to those that know him as a serious businessman. To me the name sends tingles of remorse and fear into my heart. He dresses much like you would expect a pimp to dress. However he is not a pimp in the least. The best word to define what he is would be 'Lord'. He is all powerful. In one of my days of service to him there began a war. It started on the I-80 somewhere between Chicago and Cleveland. He was called to mediate the opposing sides. He claimed it would be 'the pits' and that he would find himself lost in a battle against a thousand pissed off lawless junkies. He told me that all of the carnage he was trying to stop had been created by a sinful following of cultists. They deemed that all was not right with the world and had set out to destroy the wrongs. Unfortunately the cause itself was not on their list. Fervie left me in charge of his affairs while he was away. A homely transvestite in charge of an untold fortune and a past that I was eager to escape. What would you have done? I took one of his cars and I fled. I fled with an insatiable amount of his money and three of his other workers that I had become friends with in a roundabout sort of way. I thought we had escaped, but the war being waged was far greater a property than I had ever imagined. It spread throughout the entire United States and South America. After a few more years it eventually conquered Canada and sought to riddle the world with hatred of one another and diseased minds being forced to kill those just as demented. The money I took eventually was worthless, the car I stole ran out of gas when no more was produced, the friends I had brought with me all died in the battles to come. I am alone and I am fearful of life. Fervie still lives as a Lord and has offered to kill me on sight for what I did to him when he was at his most vulnerable... When he was willing to trust me. I think sometimes as to whether or not leaving was the right thing to do. In the end I've just managed to end up alone and worthless. With him at least I had a place and what little respect was worthy of what he'd made of me. Perhaps however the concept of time will allow for another decision to be made. In some alternate universe I would have lived a completely different life devoid of sex with animals and killing my own parents with that pencil sharpener. Just maybe there is another 'me' in existence that is living the happiest life anyone could ever possibly imagine. Sometimes I think I should return to Fervie to plead forgiveness in the hopelessness of my ways. Maybe he could forgive me if I begged and showed him how worthless I'd become from my deviant actions? Maybe I could be someone again, someone important enough to another person that they would trust me with their assets and livelihoods. I think of these things and they continue on in my mind as a dream while I live in a hole in the middle of a war zone wondering if tomorrow I may wake up dead... And then I tell myself; “At least I don't have to take it in the ass anymore.”