That glare had only grown harder, colder, more intense ... becoming deadly now as it bore down on me. I shrank back against the wheel trying to find more breadth between us. My eyes shot in both directions trying to judge whether I could run fast enough to get away. All I could see was the width of his palm coming straight at me, feel the iron grasp of it as it circled my throat, pinching the Turian steel along the tender parts of my flesh, closing off the airway and leaving me strangled ... for words, for reasoning, for breath.
I don't know why Ts'ya hated me or why I was always so frightened of him. I couldn't stand to be close to him. I could never bring myself to offer service more than obligatory. I am a slave and should be able to give to any and all that had need of me but I just could not find any passion in doing this for him. Can you understand? I simply could not bring myself to fake it. He would always touch my hair then growl, shoving me away in distaste. His hatred of me though had started long before though. It had started at the stake when he cut the ropes that held me there. No, it had been just after when I was placed in a collar. It had grown into something solid, something you could feel in the air, you could taste it like the metallic taste of a copper bit. I could barely see the flash of his blade as he drew it from its sheath. I sought his eyes. It was there I stared into a black abyss so distant that there was only emptiness, ugliness at its bottom.
The sound of someone clearing their throat nearby didn't disturb the lock of gaze. When the other voice spoke, I found no saving grace in its familiarity. It was the kaiila Master. "What's up Ts'ya?"
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