I Thought It Was A Common Possession Novels & Stories

I was surprised by it and wasn't really expecting that which made me want to laugh. " You guys are all sweaty and smelly ,you should go take a shower first ". She said and I groaned in frustration. I was so famished but if this was what she wanted then I better do it. " Ok". I said and got up from the chair and went up to my room. I took a shower and just when I came out to dress up. I saw the bead again lying on my drawer exactly where I had kept it. My mind kept lingering on it and I didn't know why it looked so familiar like I'd seen it on someone's hand a long time ago. It looked as if it belonged to a pack leader or something. Maybe it did belong to a pack leader and was passed to someo

My shoulders slumped as if I were being scolded by an elder, and I looked away from all of them. Is it my fault that I couldn't help myself? He has about a thousand weapons in there, some of which I'd never even heard of. The little laser pen thing I took was perfect. It fits in the palm of my hand easily and could be kept in my pocket for easy access. I didn't think of it as stealing more like payment for my coming here, which I still have no idea why they wanted me here in the first place. I know why I came, but that's another story.

It was rare; it wasn't what anyone would just get at a jewellery store; it was priceless; it was one of a kind. Why did Evan have this? How did this end up in his possession? Where did he get it from? My thoughts swirled with questions, each one threatening to consume me. I felt like a glass cup, teething at the edge of shattering into a billion pieces. The hallway blurred around me, leaving me with questions rather than answers.

I want to tell him that I'm going to get it back today, but that will just expose me. "Was it when you were with that beggar? Let me guess, you felt so touched by his story that you gave him my ring as a present!" He sneers and I flinch. It's the way he describes the situation almost as it happened that scares the shit out of me. Is it just a coincidence? Am I just being paranoid? I'm trembling inwardly so hard that I just want to fall on my knees and start apologizing to him but something holds me back, and it's the possibility that all this may just be a random guess on his part.

Whatever happens after today, I can forever glow in smug satisfaction that I've worn the ghost of a path in this rug, which is probably really expensive. Granted, it's because I've been pacing so long, but it's worth it. Or was it already there? Maybe some other poor sap of a girl wore the same track. Another one who thought she could fight her way out of this place with a little stubbornness and a bad attitude. Spoiler: she's probably bones now.

Samantha overheard the conversation of the saleslady who measured her for sandals earlier. They had their backs turned to Samantha, so they didn't know she was standing behind a large mirror. "Maybe she sold her body to the guy in exchange for these things," one of them said. Samantha didn't expect that. Of all the possible reasons, that's what they came up with. ‘Damn it. I’m not like that,’ she wanted to say to them. "She looks innocent, but I feel like she's a paid companion," another one added.

It was too small that it couldn't accommodate more than a person and it didn't give such freedom for a single person either. I washed off my body as I bolted out wet, my hair was dripping as I shivered, looking for my towel in my tidy wardrobe. None of the stuff there belonged to me. They were all there before I came and I just have to use it and someday, I'll be probably dead and the next breeder who comes in will use every stuff here again.

I whisper. “I know.” “I know it’s stupid.” “It isn’t.” “They’re just things.” “No.” His hand moves slowly through my hair. “They’re memories.” I squeeze my eyes shut. Exactly. Exactly that. Everybody thinks it’s furniture. Or dishes. Or clothes. But that’s not what I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about the framed picture of my parents on their wedding day. The quilt my grandmother made before she died. The little coffee mug my mom used every morning. The things nobody else would understand.

“Where did you find that?” I turned, looking at the hair pin she was pointing at. When I first picked it up, it had struck me as belonging to Vivian, but I knew it was impossible; Vivian would have no reason to be in a place like this. Nor would she likely still possess her jewelry if she was a rogue; it would have been stolen or sold. No, it was probably a mass-produced accessory, and someone in the area had the same one. I was just drawing connections where there were none because I was paranoid.

To the rest of them, all those beautiful masterpieces were nothing but just another part of the in house decor. I personally found them quite beautiful, too beautiful to be owned by just one person actually. But then again what did I know? these people were rich and so maybe owning a few expensive art pieces wasn't much of a big deal to them as it was for me. It was probably just something they did in their free time when they weren't busy running conglomerates. Something as simple as buying a pretty dress or a fancy flower vase on the side of the road after work like it is for us common folk.