The Rose Diaries Ch. 08

"Really?" Peter's ears perked up at that declaration. He nodded as he picked up the pad and began to jot down things quickly.

"Absolutely. I do not nor, will I ever have a taste for what you provide." Peter sighed deeply and flopped backwards on to the bed.

"Thank god." He exclaimed.

"Interesting." Mr. Brown muttered again. "Where'd you live before this?"

"Glendale." He answered turning away from the man.

"And where is that?"

"Pennsylvania."

"I see. You have a favorite food?"

"Clam chowder." Peter blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I'm a fan of apple pie, myself." He laughed quietly to himself. He could hear the pen scribbling against the pad from across the room.

"You really just want to talk?" He turned to face Mr. Brown. He had his doubts on this man, who was connected to the monsters outside, had such pure intentions.

"Yes. That's all I want. But the people I represent want other things."

"Huh?" Peter cocked an eyebrow.

"I represent those who would like what you offer. If the young Miss Stone wants to be rid of a perfectly fine girl than I am more than happy to take her and offer her up to those who don't care about your so called 'flaws'" He looked up from the pad with a smile.

"Miss Stone?"

"Miss Amanda Stone. The heir to this wonderful home. She's said quite a bit about you."

"Oh, Miss A." He muttered with a sigh. "I'm sure she has."

"Yes, she is not your biggest fan. She feels quite strongly about you."

"I know." Peter groaned. "She hates me." Mr. Brown chuckled to himself as he scribbled something else down quickly on his pad. He folded his hands on his lap and looked up at Peter with a warm smile.

"Well, Doll, I'd be more than willing to take you away from here. Originally, I had come with another proposition in mind. But I see that you need a man's grip rather than a woman's touch."

"That sounds like a threat." He said to Mr. Brown's amusement. He shifted his gaze up towards the mirrored ceiling. Perhaps if he could get just the right angle he could sneak a peek at whatever Mr. Brow was obsessively writing over there.

"Not a threat. Just an observation." He flashed a warm smile. He held up his hands in surrender to assure Peter even further.

Pure intentions? No, Mr. Brown hid something far worse. He took a deep breath of air as he steadied himself. There was no time for fear. He had maybe moments to discern Mr. Brown's behavior. His mind became clearer than it had been in hours as the fog inside his mind began to vanish.

"Gotcha." His voice nearly monotonous. "Not a fan of the Misses?"

"Your trainers? I think they do a fine job." Mr. Brown neatly tucked the pen back into the pad. "I just think Miss Stone bit off more than she can chew with some of her girls." He reached for the file behind him to peruse the contents slowly.

Peter held his tongue from an immediate response. Mr. Brown was not a fan of Miss A. He was not a fan of the other Misses either. The way he spoke of them made them sound like he regarded them as amateurs.

"But you think that you could do better?" He finally spoke. Mr. Brown shifted in his chair at the accusation. He narrowed his eyes at him and Peter felt a cold chill go down his spine.

"Me? No." He answered shaking his head. "I don't know half of what they know of makeup or clothes or what have you. I was more referring to the deviancy displayed here than any other location." He flicked through to another page forcefully. It felt odd for Peter to see that file again knowing that it contained probably his entire life in there.

"We're deviants?" He asked as he turned away once more to stare at the opposite wall. Other locations? There were other places like this hellhole that existed elsewhere.

"Sure. I like you, Doll. I like the way you look, I like your attitude, and I like the way you speak. That being said, Miss Stone produces more and more defects than finished products. You're no exception. I've been around in this line of work for a long time. I've see this house change quite rapidly over the past decade. Didn't used to be just women here."

"Really?"

"Yes. Used to be Masters who watched the girls with an iron grip. Girls like you, Belladonna, or even Poppy would not have survived that old house." He was dumbstruck. The house was once worse than right now? Peter's mind reeled at this new information as he felt a hot flash of panic begin to overtake him. What exactly did Mr. Brown consider to be good? Was he worse than Miss A.?

"Huh." Peter tried to sound as unshaken as he possibly could. Just slightly surprised by this new information. It was enough that he heard Mr. Brown continue jotting down notes instead of pushing further.

"I want to offer you a way out of here. My offer will not last for long so do decide quickly. We can walk out of here right now if you'd like. In one hour we could be on a plane headed far away from here. You'll never see Miss Stone again and she will never be able to hurt you. You will be free. Let me save you." Peter sighed as he heard the offer. Mr. Brown's voice was passionate and excited at the idea of taking him away. Yet, Peter could tell it was all a big lie.

Mr. Brown didn't care about his freedom. He only wanted to sell him to yet another home or another man who would hurt him even more. He would never see Lily, Lavender, Belle, Jasmine, Blossom, or anyone he had come to respect here again. He almost wanted to puke as he remembered the old anecdote he had said on top of the stairs. Oh god, he couldn't believe that this was the smart choice here.

"The devil you know." He muttered far below a whisper. He turned to face Mr. Brown with a straight face as he watched him put down the file and close the pad. "No." Peter answered.

"No?" Mr. Brown nearly fell back in surprise at the word. "You're declining?"

"Yes."

"That's absurd!" He raised his voice for the first time. "That's total insanity. Do you realize what I'm trying to do? I'm trying to save you, Doll!" He was far more energetic now. He stood up suddenly from the chair and marched over to the bed.

"Sorry, I'd prefer-" Peter couldn't finish his sentence as he felt Mr. Brown's hand smack him hard across the face.

"Are you awake now? Did I knock some sense back into you?" Peter clutched his stinging cheek as he glared at the man.

"No." Peter hissed through his teeth.

"Defective!" He nearly roared. "I swear that she finds the most difficult girls. Fine." He huffed as he sat down on the bed next to him.

"I'm sorry-" Peter offered before he felt Mr. Brown's hands on him again forcing him to look into his now hardened eyes.

"The young Miss Stone holds no love for you. For as long as you remain here she will purposely look for ways to hurt you. I want to help you get away from that. Yet, you say no?" He almost tossed him backwards into the pile of pillows. "You'll regret this. Not in a year, not in a week, but in days. You'll regret this moment for the rest of your very short life. I offered you hope. You deserve what she'll do to you." He sneered as he stood up suddenly and walked over to the door before grabbing his pad.

"I'm sorry." Peter offered again with a heavy sigh. "Sorry, Mr. Brown."

With that, Mr. Brown opened the door and vanished. Peter nearly collapsed as he felt the urge to either cry or vomit begin to froth up from his stomach. Instead, he just covered his face with a pillow and with a deep breath yelled as loudly as he could.

A delicate looking girl stood in the doorway with bright brown eyes and shining black hair. She wore a spotted white top that was neatly tucked into her skirt. She carried herself differently than any of the other girls there. She flashed him a white smile as she tapped something on the tablet.

"Amanda will see you now." Her voice was clear and melodic. He cocked an eyebrow at her using Miss A.'s first name. A bold choice for a girl of the house. He would have followed her if not for one little problem she overlooked.

"I'd love to but," He raised his leg to emphasize that he was still shackled to the bed with a shrug. "I'm kind of tied up at the moment."

She giggled as she approached him. Carefully she bent down, and he noticed the key dangling from her neck.

"That's funny!" She laughed as he watched her remove the shackle before tossing it away. "I like a good joke. Follow me, Doll." She waved him on walking away just as quickly as she approached.

"They trust you with that?" Peter asked sliding off the bed careful not to fall flat on his face in his damned high heels. He was steadily getting used to them but making sure he kept his balance when standing up was always annoying.

"Why wouldn't they?" He followed her out. It was odd to see a girl like her so confidant, so calm, and even brash. He wondered how she survived here.

"Just seems odd." She was shorter than Peter especially in his heels. Her delicate form strut so carefully down the hall.

"Don't know why you would think that." She muttered paying more attention to her tablet than where she was going.

"Okay well I'm Peter." He increased his pace until he was at her side. She looked personally offended when he offered her his hand.

"Riight." She shook her head. "Let me get the door." She rushed forward to open the door at the very end of the hall for him.

It was small little office that awaited him. It oozed function over fashion from the dull beige walls, the barely filled bookcases, and the small desk that Miss A. sat behind. She was smirking as he entered her feet kicked up on top of the desk. She was not in a business suit but rather a pair of loose fitting pajamas. She looked rather disheveled today.

"Doll!" She cried out as she saw him approach. The mystery girl quietly shut the door before rushing to be a Miss A.'s side.

"Good afternoon, Miss A." He greeted her with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. It was odd to see her. The master of his plight and the person who wanted him dead more than anyone he ever met.

"Ah save it." She laughed. "Pleasantries are for people who like each other. I see you've met my assistant Zoey?" Peter's heart nearly dropped when he heard the normal name. He had been so casual even using his real name in the presence of her. His eyes narrowed as he scanned her up and down finally focusing on the most obvious clue he missed.

Zoey wore no pink collar.

"I think she thought I was a girl, Amanda." Her voice oozed concern. "Perhaps Mr. Brown injured her? Is she concussed?" Miss A. stifled a laugh quickly covering her mouth as she motioned him forward.

"That is incredible. She has no such injury to worry about. Just a bit absent minded sometimes." He stopped a few feet from the desk. Not out of any due politeness or respect to them but safety. If Miss A. wanted to hurt him now she wasn't going to do it without a fight. One exit that was to his back, only a few feet to the door, and enough room for a running head start. He focused himself on the memories of the collar. The painful surges that caused his breath to grow short, tears to flow, and thoughts to stop. Peter steadied himself for it this time. If he could be prepared for the punishment perhaps he could get through it.

"I see." Zoey nodded turning her attention back to the tablet. "Mr. Brown has left the premises."

"Thank you. Let's have a little chat, Doll." Miss A. leaned forward.

"Your interaction with Mr. Brown was very odd to say the least. I was concerned when he approached you because of your violent past but you held it together quite well. I do have a few concerns." She let the comment hang in the air as he focused on what the end result of this meeting was going to be.

"Am I allowed to speak?" He asked.

"Of course."

"What are you concerns, Miss A.?" Her face lit up at his question.

"Glad you asked!" He gulped as she grinned from ear to ear. "You rejected Mr. Brown's offer of sale. I'd like to know where you got the idea that was your choice to make."

"He offered it to me-"

"I know full well he did!" Her voice a mixture of both fury and hysterics. "But. That. Was. Not. Your. Choice." She smacked the table with an open palm after each word.

"I'm sorry." He muttered casting his gaze down.

"You should be! You just cost me a sale! And how much did I just miss out on, Zoey?"

"Six hundred thousand dollars." Miss A. smacked the table again as she answered.

"Holy shit." Peter answered reflexively. He was not used to hearing that amount so lightly tossed around. It was a sum he could only dream of owning. Perhaps after years of saving or promotions up the corporate ladder. But Mr. Brown had that much to offer?

"You could have walked away so easily. But you stayed? A day ago, I'd be furious. But you know something Doll? Water under the bridge." She leaned back in her chair with a smile.

"Thank you?" Was all he could offer in return.

"I've seen constant improvement since you left my office the other day. You speak when spoken to, you have correct poise, and you are respectful. Perhaps I was wrong in my initial assumption of your value. Perhaps I was a bit too hasty in my own anger when I made those threats. Now make no mistake. I will not apologize for anything that I have done or will do. But I will allow you to stay here for the time being." As she finished her sentence Peter nearly collapsed where he stood. He felt his legs go out from beneath him as a wave of relief washed over him completely.

Miss A. wouldn't sell him. Most importantly, Miss A. wasn't trying to actively kill him.

"Are you sure she's not injured?" Zoey asked once more as she watched his legs tremble.

"Yes," Miss A. nodded. "Just let her have this moment to breathe deeply. Doll, you will be put to work tonight rather than four days from now. I expect you to continue to provide me with results and prove that my decision here was the right one." He nodded rising until he stood up straight once more.

"Of course, Miss A." He lied through his teeth. He could feel his hatred for her, for the house, and for himself burning through his veins. How easily everyone moved on from one torment to the next. How Miss A. could sit there in her cozy pajamas and say such disgusting things as easily as breathing. He struggled to keep his passion from overtaking him as he avoided her gaze.

"Call yourself a whore." She spoke suddenly forcing him to look back. Her hands were folded neatly on her desk as she waited for the response. Was she serious?

"I'm a whore?" He couldn't help but let his confusion leak through his words.

"Once more." Was she testing him?

"I'm a whore." He spoke as clearly as he could. Her face changed for a split-second as he watched her analyze his words until she sighed deeply and waved him off.

"I thought so. Bring her to Isabelle for some cleaning up. Tell her that I want her to be white."

"Of course, Amanda. Will you be returning upstairs?" Zoey asked with the smile that never vanished from her face.

"I should be getting ready, shouldn't I?" Miss A. yawned. "Come meet me when you are able and don't rush! Get yourself some breakfast before anything else."

"Sure thing!" Zoey beamed as she grabbed hold of Peter's arm quickly. "I'll see you in an hour."

"Don't rush!" Miss A. shouted back as the two of them left the room. Zoey nearly slammed the door closed on the way out, but he could've sworn he heard Miss A. cackling as he vanished from her sight.

Zoey showed no signs of calming down. She walked with a jaunt in her step as she danced to the along with him in tow. She held no hatred nor malice towards him. She was simply content with her state of being. Of voluntary servitude in a house of slaves. It drove Peter insane to even think about that. How much could they possibly be giving her to make it worthwhile? She could be anywhere else in the entire world and yet, and yet she chose to be the company of monsters.

"Un-fucking-believable." His thoughts found their way into the open which gave Zoey some pause.

"I hope that wasn't towards me." She barely held any attention to him. Miss B. would've yelled at him for his language, but she really didn't care either way.

"No sorry. I was just thinking." He apologized as quickly as he could. He could barely keep pace with her. She walked so damn quick that he grew tired even looking at her.

"Well keep it inside your head. Don't want a misunderstanding, yeah?"

Peter hailed her advice for the rest of the walk keeping his own troubles to himself. After all, he had other things on his plate to worry about. For some reason, he kept thinking about Miss K. What would she think of this mess? She sounded so sure of his abilities with Mr. Brown but what would she say to his decline of sale? Would she be mad? Would she be happy to have him here? His gut was leaning closer to the latter right now. Miss K. was odd. She was caring, soft, loving, cruel, sadistic, and seductive. Sometimes all at once. She had no hesitation on hurting him or helping him.

So, the question of the hour was really: why the fuck was she who he was thinking about? She clawed her way deep under his skin in a way that made Peter seems so alien to his now assumed name. Doll. Something to be bought, played with, and discarded. It was her name that she had thrust upon him. Her voice that breathed life to this persona. She was his creator.

"No." He whispered to himself. Why did he think of her so much? From her soft delicate touch, to the growl in her voice when she gave commands, and to her blazing jade eyes. His breath grew ragged as he remembered her grip on his body, the feeling of her breath on his ear, and fingers full of his hair in a hold stronger than death. He felt his panties grow damp at the thought of their escapades last evening. A soft moan slipped from his lips. As Zoey turned to look at the source he couldn't help but feel his cheeks burn forcing him to shy away from her gaze.

"Ew." She rolled her eyes at his shameful display. Peter offered no rebuttal or apology.

The salon, located on the first floor, came into view ever so quickly. The white glow of the polished floors, the bright lights of each individual vanity, to the cerulean blue of the medical-like chairs in front of each of them. Miss I. ran circles around her own space barely giving either of them a chance to announce themselves. She moved unopened boxes of cosmetics, wigs, and hair products with such pace that he almost though the salon was on fire.

"So, to recap: you need more eyelash glue, body foundation, sixteen new palettes of eyeshadow, twelve lipsticks 'red', fourteen lipsticks 'pink', three bottles of shampoo, replacement bulbs for the vanity mirrors. Am I missing anything?" A strange voice called from the intercoms. Whoever it was sounded like she hadn't slept in days. Her voice was barely clinging to life as she listed off a whole bunch of items for Miss I.

"Maybe but I can't think of anything. I'll get back to you Umbrielle."

"Roger that." Umbrielle sighed loudly. "You know how reach me." Miss I. nearly screamed as she dropped her bin and sat on the floor. She covered her face with her hands and yelled again.

"Hi, Isabelle." Another strange voice crackled to life on the intercom. "I'm afraid I have a verdict regarding your most recent request. Unfortunately, you are essential personnel and we cannot afford to let you go for even an insignificant amount of time. So, your time off request is denied." Unlike Umbrielle, she was cold and distant.

"Thank you, Xia." Miss I.'s voice was dejected and sad. "Goodbye."

Finally, Isabelle turned to face them both. He could see behind her mask of glamour and to her true self. She was completely distraught, depressed, and tired. Her violet eyes glazed over as she observed both of them.