Continued from In the Shadow of the Colosseum.
For nine days, I lived in the church building. The skinny, sickly man’s mother would not allow him to invite me to stay at his home, and nobody else had room. He visited often, and I learned his name was Ctephen Flamard. I had no name to give him, save my sequence– AB21, which he refused to call me. Instead, he called me Abby. I thought it sweet, so didn’t object.
Every day, he brought me three meals. It was far more than I was used to, and my own restlessness led me to work my body. I soon developed muscles, and became vainly proud of my shoulders. Countless times, I convinced him to make love to me, though it was never as satisfying as those many times in front of a crowd, with someone’s leg and their steely jaws. I missed those times, though I was beginning to also enjoy life, and my time among these people in this strange country was happy. Read the rest of this entry »