Room 501

My eyes open at the shine of light going through the window. I know where I am. I just don't know if I want to open my eyes to the reality of it. that he found me, took me, held me, cared for me, had me bare to his touch. Had I called him Master?

He called himself my Master. To my body that made all the sense that the events that took place did, but to my mind, I was in a haze. Calling him Master, something so taboo and unwavering. The word on its own, the power of possession and control that it held as he deemed himself my Master was indescribable, but I didn't shake my head and refuse his title over my body at that moment.

Sitting up from my sleeping position, I find myself in a queen bed with cream sheets and grey pillows soft and gentle on my skin. Like sleeping in heaven. The simple black and white artwork covers two parallel walls, a door that would probably lead me outside the room and a blurred glass door most likely the bathroom.

I see a note on the left bedside table, and next to it, two headache pills and a glass of water. I pick up the note as I lift the water to my lips, "You will have a mild headache through the day, so it would be recommended you rest for the day. These will help." The note sounded like him when he had me close to him, asking me if I was okay. Professional. I take the two pills minding the headache I could already feel bothering me through my shifts. 

Looking lower, I find myself nude with the sheets to my waist when I sit back against the headboard. A knock on the door startles me as I  pull the sheet up to my torso, held tight in my hands. The door opens and in walks a woman, maybe in her late twenties. Her skin was a fair brown tone, her hair in a single low pony braided in elegance and a sheer lace white dress leaving her body exposed. I swear had I knocked my head harder I would have sworn she was the angel to take me to a life more peaceful than this one. 

She looks so pure but what caught my immediate attention was the marks on her chest. Vivid medium blue bruises that looked like rough love bites over her body like art on a canvas. She doesn't shy from their presence.

"There are some clothes in the bathroom for you to wear after your shower. I didn't think you would want to see the dress again. When you are done you can have breakfast and a car will drive you home."

Her voice was soft and timid like her appearance but the noting what she said, I recognise how much she knew of the situation. I didn't want to see that dress again and had I seen it I'm sure I would have taken a lighter to it.

Hesitant but needed I speak "Thank you, I appreciate it. Sorry to ask but where is he?"

Master, I failed to address this.

 Her position does not move as she speaks, "He had business to attend to. Would you like any help getting ready?" Her question is realistically intrusive but she says it so casually "No, I will be fine. Thank you." She gives me a timid nod and starts to walk out of the room when I stop her, "Wait, I didn't get your name."

She looks hesitant and almost surprised but goes on to speak "It's Celeste." 

Smiling at her, she leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Looking at the clock, I realize that I have a little under an hour to make it to the store and slip out of bed. Making the bed after I leave it, I walk to the bathroom door and slide it open to see a grey stone and white accented décor, with a large bathtub and a shower that goes with it.

To my left, I see a hanger and on it was a pair of simple black pants, a white wool turtle neck, a thick black scarf, and a long beige coat to go with the beautiful outfit. Along with it, a pair of red-bottom ankle boots. When did she get all of this? I don't assume we would be the same size. Plus the style of the clothing felt far from her taste. Did he buy all this for me?

I leave the thoughts and brush my teeth with the sealed toothbrush, wash off my sleep before drying off, slather on lotion, and create a bun to keep my hair in place, even with the few unruly strands. I get dressed and slip on the boots before looking at my reflection. The medium blue bruise on the top of my forehead. How does one thank someone for an outfit of this standard?

When I see him again, I will ask him if he wants the clothing returned because this is all more than it should be. Stepping out of the room, I walk to what I assume is the kitchen because of the smell of food and the sound of cutlery. 

There, I find Celeste placing a bowl of fruit topped with granola and a bowl of honey-drizzled yoghurt on the tabletop. Slowly I walk towards her, making her look up at me when she gestures for me to sit.

With unshown hesitation, I do "What would you like to drink?' She asks me standing station for my answer with patient eyes as though I am not a stranger, "Tea will be fine, one sugar, no milk, thank you." She nods and starts to prepare some tea while I pour my yoghurt into the fruit.

I watch her unconsciously as she peacefully makes the tea, the material of her dress letting her movement create an angelic view I can't tear my gaze from the marks on her body. They could have been hidden, shameful, and condemned but here she stood, sheer and bold in what her body held. My only conflict was the fact that the mark on my neck looked a lot like the one on hers. Masters mark.

Ignoring any thoughts, I begin to eat, unable to resist the urge to watch her comfortable in the state of her near-nudity, with no consideration for the fact that she does not know who I am. Bringing the cup to me, she packs what she had used. When she is done, I am finished with my breakfast alone in the kitchen, I bring my bowl to the kitchen sink unknown to Celeste who seems to be searching for something in the kitchen pantry.

 I rinse the bowl, cup, and utensils before placing them neatly.

Turning around I see Celeste slowing down as she walks out of the pantry, "You didn't have to clean those." She says in a soft tone making me shake my head and smile, "My mother would not approve of that, considering how much you welcomed me. It was no trouble, Celeste. Would you please tell... Master that I thank him gratefully?"

The gaze of familiarity runs over her as she looks at me. She pulls a soft smile and walks closer, "I will do so. The car you will be directly in front of the building is a grey Audi. Harold will stand outside it." With that, I thank her for the last time and walk towards the elevator pressing the down arrow and waiting for the doors to open. When they do, I step in when I hear a voice call, "Miss, can I know your name too?" I hold the doors open for the soft girl with the softest smile realizing how hopeful it made the morning, "It's Evita."

.

The car and man are where she said it would be and so I enter with a greeting and give the gentleman the street, staying quiet the whole ride there. My thoughts on the ride to work ranged from when I would see Master again, and how kind Celeste was.

The day is slower as the lights and span of the die take their toll. With that also came Victoria's question about where the outfit I had on came from and where the bruise on my forehead came from. My answer is "Something I gifted myself and never wore." And about the bruise, "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time at the club." She didn't buy it but said nothing the rest of the day. 

She worries about me being at the club and her finding out I was attacked while flaunting would just worry her more.

While she worried, my mind hounded me with flashes of the events in the bathtub last night. The memories of the lips and lust that left the two marks of territorial example on my neck. The memory of his hand in my hair, fingers deep in me. Of Master.

I battled my mind the entire day so that I was not lost in a state of daydreaming and reminiscing. With it being Sunday, the shop closes early and with no shift on Sundays, I hail a cab to the hospital. In my hand was a poetry book I loved and wished to share with her.

Walking in, I smile and reach the sign-in desk. Jemma is there with a kind smile, but her attention is split between the phone and the notes she was writing down. She pulls the phone for a single second and whispers, "Good afternoon Evita." I smile at her as she hands the sheet for me to sign,  I complete with no thought, "Good afternoon Jemma." 

I walk to the same room my mother has been in for the past three years and freezes when I walk in. She is not there. Nothing of hers is in the room. From the three pictures of her, papa and I, her blanket and her. It's empty.

Heavy breaths are heard as I turn to see Jemma run towards me, "Jemma, where is my mama?" My voice shakes as I hold the book tightly in my hand "I'm sorry I forgot to inform you that she has been moved." She says this with an apology in her voice "Where, where did you move her? What happened is she okay?" I ask as tears threaten to break free, fighting not to panic more than I already was.

Coming closer, she puts a hand on my shoulder with a calming breath, "She is fine Evita, breathe. She has been upgraded to a new room as of this morning. Room 501." Shaking my head, I start walking frantically to the elevator, "That's not possible, I can't afford that, and I did not move her." I  scream as the door opens, rushing in with the nurse. 

The ride is short when the door opens. I pace with the numbers placed on the doors, "The hospital put her on a list to be upgraded." I hold my fear and anger at this and rush to count the room numbers when I see room 501.

Walking in slowly to startle her, I step into a room almost double the size of the one she had been in before. This one gives her more sunlight from the large window at the end of the room. A larger bed, with a table and chair in the corner of the room. 

Overall the room was gorgeous, decorated with light pastel colours of blues and greens. There are even soft pink tulips next to the bed. And there Mama sat at the small nook of the window, looking at the snowfall with her favourite blanket around her body. So peaceful.

It's what I had been trying to work her into.

Slowly I turn to go back into the hall where Jemma stood "Who moved my mother?" I ask her softly with the calm knowledge that she was okay. "I'm not sure. I just got a report that told me to place her in a room on this floor. I can give you the paperwork if you would like." Nodding, I follow her to her station where she gives me the file. Thanking her. I open it only for my mind to struggle to comprehend the information that is in writing.

Medical Bill Statement of Dolores Carmen Alonso: Previous outstanding bill paid. Continued under unknown benefactor.

Bill of Room 357: Paid

Bill of Room 501, additional health care and necessary arrangements of continued stay: Being paid under an unknown benefactor.

Looking at Jemma I shake my head "Jemma, who is paying for my mother's room and medical? I never paid for any of this." The look of the long-known nurse shows her conflicted feelings about what she can say something I could deal with right now. She sighs and takes the papers from my hands, "The hospital saw that your mother would benefit more in a more vibrant space considering her condition. They have decided to take over her stay at the hospital."

That's bullshit. I know it is because each word comes through forced and almost rehearsed to the T. What the fuck is happening here? I take a breath to collect my emotions before facing her, "This conversation is not over. I want to speak to whoever authorised this movement without my consent." Having nothing to say and no interest in what she was going to say I walk to the new room. 501.

Walking in, I see Mama has not moved from her seat. She looks so at peace "Hi mama." I say softly. Stepping closer to her. Her eyes take motion looking at me from top to bottom with wonder, "You brought a book." I give a small laugh and nod as I sit next to her after taking the scarf and jacket off me. "Yes, I did. So, how are you?" She looks out the window holding her blanket, "I have a daughter, her name is Evita." 

I nod listening to her speak, "I want her to be happy she doesn't smile with her eyes anymore. She has her papa's eyes you know." My tear slips from my eye at her words. Her recollection of me damn near broke me. It went from forgetting birthdays to fear in her eyes when I would open the door. It only got worse with days she would shares stories of myself as though I was a stranger, but she never sees at me. 

Knowing I am her daughter.

I spend the day with her, reading to her as she watches the sky fall. Braiding her hair and singing to her as she drifts off to sleep. While she brings the thicker quilt-like blanket allowing us to lay comfortably as her eyes began to flutter. Like most nights, her words are sleepy when she catches the tulips.  Cardless, might I add, she groans  "I must thank the nice man." 

Confused by her words because I know all her nurses and none were male, "Which man, mama?" She lays her head on the pillow of the bed which allows me to lay next to her as I stroke her head "The nice man in black, he brought me here." Filing through all the people I could think of in my head my heart stopped when I guess who she was speaking of. The only person in my life, recent or not, who could have known about my mother and done something about it. 

He said my name last night how could I forget this? He saw me here before I left.

Master. He moved my mother to this room. What the hell was he playing here? He touched my body because it was given by me, but hell will freeze over before he thinks that he will take any type of place into his control.

Saying nothing more knowing she needs the rest, I waited for Mama to fall asleep as the sky turned dark. I slip out after leaving the book we had been reading on the table. Passing the reception, I cannot stop to ask for his number or contact details because I have no name. No documented name that is. 

Releasing a frustrated breath, I walk out of the hospital when I notice the same grey car waiting outside at the entrance. Walking closer to him, I hold the coat tighter.

"Good evening Miss, I will be taking you home today." He had the car waiting for me outside the hospital He is not even shy about his actions, arrogant to say the least "Where is he?" I ask with no shake or shyness in my voice. 

The man looks surprised at my tone referring to such a powerful man in such a manner, "He is unavailable at this time. May you please get into the car Miss it is cold?" I shake my head and step forward "I will do nothing until I can speak to him."

The fury and solidity in my statement make the man sigh before taking a phone out of his pocket and dialling it as we wait in the freezing weather, "Yes sir she is in front of me, but there seems to be a problem." He has no idea what a problem is. This is not a problem this is something that is pissing me off. I will give him a problem to compare.

Nodding, he hands me the phone, "He would like to speak to you." Taking the phone gently, I press it to my ear "Get in the car." The shake in my body from his voice is suppressed because I need to be angry right now "Who do you think you are?" I ask in a calm yet stern tone. He needed to hear me and shouting would make no difference to an argument. 

"Get in the car right now. I won't say it again." I can hear his disapproval in my tone and choice of words to him but he has questions to answer now "Not unless I know I am being taken to you."

I wait for his response knowing that I will not back down from this, "Fine. Give Harold the phone." Giving the phone back to him, I wait for him to finish the phone. A few yes sirs and a goodbye later, he gestures for me to get in the car and this time I follow.

The drive is silent and I pace my breath in anger and anticipation of what is about to happen. What I know is that he needs to understand a boundary. The drive is almost twenty minutes from when we reach the building I was in this morning. Opening the door, I face Harold now calmer and having reflected on my attitude towards him, "I apologize if I was being rude. It was not directed to you." Shaking his head, he takes his hat off in a gentleman's gesture, "It is forgotten, Miss." I give him a small smile before walking into the building and going to the reception. 

"Good evening, may I please have your name and who you are here to see." The younger man asks "It's Evita Alonso for..."

Almost immediately he nods "Yes I just got the call, please go in and press the P button?." Thanking him. I do as I am told and soon I am in the elevator riding up. That's when I start to feel the power complex of this. This is not my red room. I am clothes by him and fuelled by emotions brought on by his actions.

I've charged, and hopefully it hasn't been blindly.