Kat set her pastels down and sighed. The rains had started up again, and this time, they were in full force. Thunder boomed in the distance, and every so often, a flash of lightning would illuminate her room. She examined the piece she was working on. It was a starry night over a city of lights, not her best work, but then again, it'd been a while since anyone had let her be artistic. She found it soothing. And she needed some soothing.

Today was the day, she'd decided. She'd finished her chores early and retreated to her room to plan, but the anxiety had gotten so bad that she decided to pick up her pastels and draw a bit to try and calm her nerves. Still, it didn't stop her leg from shaking, or her fingernails from being bitten. How would she handle this, she thought. How would she do? Today was the day, the day where she proved to everyone - herself, included - what a monster her Mistress was. Like all the rest of them, she too harbored evil, Kat thought, somewhere deep down.

There was one chore she hadn't done. She hadn't swept the entryway, leaving dirt and dust on the floor, and now it was just a waiting game, to see who noticed. But the waiting was killing her. She fidgeted restlessly, staring at her pastel drawing. She started to contemplate other ways to do this, easier ways, ways that wouldn't result in a beating, maybe. She felt like she wanted to sweat, but couldn't. Her mouth was parched, but she feared leaving the room.

She knew it would come soon.

And then, it came.

"Kat, sweetie!" her Mistress called out from somewhere within the house.

She slowly crawled out of bed, her heart pounding, breathing shallow. She carefully opened the door and looked around, before slipping out of her room and quietly closing the door behind her, shaking. She made her way toward where her Mistress's voice had come from, eventually coming out on the landing above the foyer. Below her, she found her Mistress standing in the entryway, looking at the floor, inspecting it. A frown was on her face.

"Did you finish all of your chores?" she asked, looking up at her.

Kat shook her head. Her whole body shook now, her hands, her lips, her insides. Everything was shaking, even her voice. "No Mistress."

This was it. Here it would come. The beatings started today. Yet, somewhere deep down inside of her, it was soothing to know that at least the waiting was over. She would be beaten today, and that was that. No more waiting, no more fear, no more anxiety of the unknown. Let them start, some defiant piece of her thought. Let it come. I am ready.

"I didn't think so," Mistress Alexa said, looking down at a wet spot on the floor. "This place is dirty, and it's getting kinda late. Come clean it, okay sweetie?"

Kat's mouth was parched, her throat dry. She could hardly speak, but some piece of her managed to well up enough confidence for her to squeak out a few words. "N-No, Mistress."

Mistress Alexa, on her way out of the room, stopped in her tracks, frozen for what seemed like eternity. Kat watched her, wanting to hurl. The butterflies in her stomach had turned into fire ants, gnawing at her, eating their way out. She wanted to cry, to run, to scream or curse or spit or do something. But there was nothing to do. She'd already said it. A feeling resembling regret washed over her.

"What did you just say?" Mistress Alexa asked, turning around.

Kat hunched down, wincing. "I-I don't want to."

Mistress Alexa bit her lip and made something resembling an angry smile pass over her. "Is that so? Is there a reason for that?"

Kat was on the verge of vomiting. It was all she could do to keep her lunch down. "I-I'm gonna draw."

Mistress Alexa tapped her foot on the floor and crossed her arms. "I see, Kat. And do you really think that's going to fly?"

Silent, Kat stared down at her, the color leaving her face.

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Her Mistress sighed. "I'll give you three seconds to get down here. Starting now."

Kat gripped the railing tighter, her knuckles turning white. The sweat started now, trickling down the side of her face from her temple and dripping to the floor. She wiped it away hastily.

"One."

The urge to run welled within her. She could feel the adrenaline shooting through her back, worming its way up to her head like an angry snake.

"Two."

Should she go down there? She could make it if she ran. Surely, Mistress Alexa would be forgiving if she did. Did she really need a beating, anyway? Things were fine as they were. No beating, no problem, right? Of course. She just had to–

"Three."

Her heart nearly stopped. Mistress Alexa sighed and shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "Alright, Kat. Fine. You don't have to."

Kat blinked, her heart still pounding from the adrenaline. "W-What?"

Mistress Alexa shrugged. "You heard me. Cobb can do it instead. Cobb!" she called out.

Within moments, he was in the foyer. "Yes, Madam?"

"Clean this place up please. Seems our little kitten doesn't want to do her chores."

Cobb glanced up at Kat, his expression unreadable. "I see, Madam. I'll get to it right away."

With that, he left, presumably to gather cleaning supplies. Kat watched him go, her heart calming down. She let go of the railing with a sigh, but her Mistress said, "Ah! Get down here right. Now."

Kat winced, but turned and carefully started down the stairs. So, the beatings would start, then. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. She should've known that. How could she have been so foolish? There were repercussions to her actions, and now she would have to face them. But still, that little voice in the back of her mind told her that at least it was over. The beatings would come, and then that would be that.

At the bottom of the stairs, her Mistress snapped her fingers and pointed down at her feet. "Kneel."

She knelt.

"Follow me."

Kat went to stand, but a firm hand on her shoulder pushed her back down. "Crawl."

She slowly knelt back down, and, hand over hand, she followed her Mistress up the stairs, thoughts racing through her mind. Still, she obeyed. She swallowed dryly, if only to keep her guts inside of her. Up the stairs they went, down the hall, Kat crawling shakily behind her Mistress, until they got to her study. Mistress Alexa opened the door and snapped her fingers, pointing Kat to the center of the room, and shutting the door behind them.

Then, after grabbing something off of her desk, she sat in her chair by the fireplace, and sighed. She looked down at Kat, staring at her for a moment, before saying, "So, you don't want to do your chores, hmm?"

Kat sunk into herself.

She continued, "That's fine. You don't have to. But what you can do, is write me a hundred lines. Now."

She threw down a paper pad and a pen before Kat, who stared at the lined paper for a moment, confused. "What?"

Mistress Alexa looked down at her and frowned. "I will not disobey my Mistress, and I will do all of my chores. A hundred lines, let's go."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a deep drag. "Look, you've got me smoking inside," she said, snapping her fingers. "Let's go, Kat."

Kat was unsure. She stared at the pen and paper, trying to make sense of it all. Where was the slap? The beating? The cursing, the screaming? Where was the pain? It didn't come, instead leaving her in the quiet of the study, a pen and paper before her, and an expectant Mistress looking down at her. Would she do this? Or would she push her luck? She wasn't sure.

Mistress Alexa cleared her throat. "Now, Kat."

Shakily, Kat picked up the pen and pressed it to the notepad.

"A hundred lines," Mistress Alexa said. "Get to it. I'll be watching. Don't mind me. Though, I don't have to tell you that, now do I? You didn't seem to mind me before."

A pang of shame rose in Kat's heart as her cheeks reddened. The disappointment in her Mistress's voice was palpable. The tension in the air, electric. Slowly, shaking, she put the pen to paper and began to write. A hundred lines.

That couldn't be so bad.

Her hand ached as she walked back to her room. The cramping was the worst part, physically, but the worst part was the way the words echoed in her mind. I will not disobey my Mistress and I will do all of my chores. Over and over they replayed in her mind. She'd obeyed, written all the lines, and by the end, she was suffering. But even though her hand could rest now, her mind remained as active as ever, examining the words, replaying them, listening to them.

She made it to her room, slipped inside, and went straight to her bed and laid down. Staring at the ceiling, she realized the beating never came. Oh, she'd been punished. She could feel it in her hand, hear it in her head. And she could still see the disappointed look on her Mistress's face, and... she shuddered. Something about that look hurt her. Cut her like a knife through butter.

She hated it. She hated herself. Her mind wandered back to her conversation with Cobb. About how she'd been disrespectful, ungrateful even. She felt that now. Understood. With a heavy sigh, she rolled over, and stared at her desk, where she'd sat her pastels. She wasn't in the mood for them, now. Something inside of her felt shameful, too shameful to create.

Her mind felt heavy. She should sleep, she knew. It was getting late. The rains outside were still thundering down, but it was getting darker in her room. She should sleep, she knew. But she had a feeling that sleep would elude her tonight, as it so often did. Such was the luck of a slave, she thought.

And what luck did she have.