Baby wandered. She walked at night when the moon sang her name and the wind tousled her hair. She walked until her feet ached and the sun peeked over the horizon. Then she would find a nice, safe place to rest, usually an abandoned building with tight places she could hide.

She stood facing the mirror in a gas station bathroom, studying her face. Running her fingers along her cheek she thought about how she had changed, how the night had morphed her into a creature she barely recognized, or had Master done it? It didn’t matter, she was changed.

Once tired of looking at her reflection, Baby stepped through the swinging door into the fluorescent lights of the gas station. She squinted against them, allowing her eyes to slowly adjust.

“Bright in here, huh?” a man asked from the end of an aisle laden with bags of chips. When he smiled his teeth were dark and stained, not at all like the white of Master’s smile.

She said nothing, only looked at the floor and smiled.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” The man moved closer.

The floor was covered in brown spots, partly by design, partly by customers. The man smelled of sweat and rubbing alcohol. It made Baby’s stomach turn.

Without looking up she made her way back outside where the air was fresh and cool, the moon was gentle on her eyes, and it didn’t stink of the man with the chips.

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Baby stood in the darkness, let it wrap its arms around her, and drank in the familiarity and solitude. She was, she knew, a creature of the night. She crawled through the brush and crept through the darkness. The sun caused her pain and people turned from her. It had been hard to admit when she was younger and the darkness of her room frightened, rather than comforted, her.

“You need a ride somewhere, sweetheart?”

The words were accompanied by sweat and rubbing alcohol. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know she would see the brown teeth and yellowing eyes if she did.

“No,” she answered.

“Look,” the stranger said. “I’ve been watching you for a few minutes and you ain’t actin’ like you got a way away from here. So let me give you a ride.”

Baby turned toward the man who was smiling sweetly with his hands tucked into his front pockets. She watched the vein on his neck throb, his thick tongue raking over his too large, too wet lips, his eyes looking her over top to bottom, lingering in the spaces between. He was breathing fast, his chest heaving up and down.

Baby remembered another who breathed like that. When Master lay next to her in the dark after expending his energy thrusting and grunting on top of her, under her, behind her, his chest would heave with heavy breath. She loved and hated that breathing and the pain it celebrated, loved and hated him.

Her throat tightened and her ears began ringing. She blinked hard and fast, pushing the tears back to keep the pain company.

The hiss of a semi truck’s brakes invaded Baby’s mind and brought her back to the gas station parking lot staring at the man who stared at her with an all too familiar gaze. And she was hungry.

“Maybe a ride would be okay,” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.