“This is a washing machine,” I say, opening the lid of the tub.
“Watching machine,” she repeats, eyeing the device with concern. “Why is it watching me?”
“Washing machine,” I clarify. “For cleaning clothes.”
“Oh.”
She shrugs and I can tell she’s lost interest.
“You do need to pay attention,” I say. “This is an important skill to have.”
“Is it? Why?”
“Because the alternative is being a filthy little brat,” I say calmly. “And you’re not going to be delivered clean clothes forever. You’re going to have to learn how to make them clean yourself. You’re going to have to learn to look after yourself in many ways.”
She cocks her head to the side and looks at me. “You’re a doctor. You save people’s lives.”
“Right…”
“And yet they have you here, teaching me how to clean clothes. What did you do to piss the Head off?”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah. Okay. They have you babysitting me. They’re fucking with you.”
“Because you’re important, believe it or not.”
“I’m really not,” she smirks. “I’m a distraction. They’re keeping you away from something, Doc. That bitch doesn’t do anything without a secret reason.”
“You think she has an ulterior motive?”
“I think she’s got her most dangerous and most useless operative being given home care lessons by her base doctor, and I think that’s too stupid for there not to be something else going on.”
“You could be right,” I agree. “But that’s not going to get you out of doing laundry. Now, pay attention. You put the laundry in here, and then a scoop of powder…”
“How did you learn to do this?”
I have to think back to answer that question. “I guess it was my mom,” I say. “When I turned ten, she said it was time to start cleaning up after myself. She showed me how to do laundry, cook, clean…”
“That must have been nice.”
“Actually, I hated it at the time, but she was right. All those skills came in handy as I got older, and they made it possible for me to get by in the world.”
“I could always steal new clothes when I wanted them.”
“No, you couldn’t. If I find you’ve been breaking the law, you’ll be in big trouble, young lady.”
Electra
I laugh at him. Breaking the law? What law? The law of this place? The law of the world?
“Something funny?” He raises that dark brow at me and I feel a quiver low in my stomach. I think I know what law he’s really talking about. His law. His rules. They’re the only ones that really exist, the only ones I can really come into contact with. No other rules matter to me. Whatever exists outside this place isn’t real to me, and what exists inside it I reject. This man is the only one to ever make me care about what might be right and what might be wrong.
“No, I mean,” I shrug. “What does the laundry powder taste like?”
“Soap,” he says dryly. “Why are you asking?”
“I don’t know. It looks like salt or sugar or something.”
He draws in a deep breath. “Don’t put anything in your mouth I haven’t told you is food, okay? There are cleaning products you won’t want to ingest. They could make you very ill.”
“Isn’t it obvious what’s food and what isn’t?”
“No,” he says. “Not always.”
“So people in the world go around just knowing what is poison and what isn’t?”
“Yes. They learn the difference when they’re young. You have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Okay, but can they kick someone’s head off their shoulders?”
“No. Most of them can’t.”
“Exactly,” I say, feeling like I’ve redeemed a little of my honor. “I’m not useless.”
“Oh, I know you’re not useless,” Tom says with one of those smiles that makes me feel like he’s patronizing me. “It’s just new…”
“I’ll learn it all in good time,” I say, rolling my eyes and copying his voice as much as I can.
“Don’t mock me, brat,” he growls playfully, swatting my butt.
I’ve never really played before. There was never time and everyone who dealt with me treated me like I was a clear and present danger, because I am. Tom doesn’t care. He treats me like a normal person and because of that, I’m starting to work out what a normal person might be.
I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him. He’s become my reference point to the world. I watch him to see how he reacts to things. I do things as he shows me. Sometimes he talks about going out into the city and I smile because he’s smiling even though I am actually very afraid of the world he tells me about, the world I see on the television shows he has cajoled me into watching.
His touch makes my body react with that fire I feel whenever we are close. Tom Ares is the incarnation of pure hotness. His body is hard, his eyes are kind and his hand is firm. What else could a girl need?