Tiny Raven

I winced against the afternoon sunlight as we left the government building. I dug my sunglasses out of my bag, hoping the shade would buy me some time before the aura became a full migraine.

There was a bottle of pills in my bag for this, but until I had pain they wouldn’t help.

I found myself wishing the pain would hit so I could take them and get it over with.

Sans and I walked back to my car in silence, the monster following me like a gloomy shadow. He was even more withdrawn now and I could only attribute it to the fact that I had calibrated the collar.

He was mad at me.

He had every right to be.

I turned on the car and pulled out my phone to tap the address into the GPS, before realizing I wasn’t entirely certain where I should go next.

Groceries were important, vital even. But I knew I had enough food to last one more week, even if it would be a week of rice and instant noodles. Unhealthy and lacking in most major food groups, but it was food.

Although, I frowned to myself, I was completely out of fresh produce, and my lunch supplies were nearly gone as well.

I knew the grocery store well, and with my list in hand I was confident I could get my shopping done within an hour. I knew exactly where to go and what to pick up. The biggest hurdle would be checking out.

However, getting Sans some new clothes was also important. Aside from general hygiene, I knew it sucked to wear the same thing every day. I had budgeted two hours to get him outfitted. Time to find clothes, try them on, and purchase them.

Of course, that assumed Sans wasn’t too picky about what he wore. If he was it could take a lot longer.

I hoped he wasn’t too picky and stuck with my initial time estimate.

Three hours.

Three hours and we would be home.

I could do that, aura or not.

Still … which was more important? Groceries or clothes?

If I could only get through one errand, which was my top priority?

I set my GPS to my usual supermarket.

I was glad Sans wasn’t in a talkative mood. I wasn’t either. I didn’t want conversation with how my head was feeling.

I also didn’t want to drive in silence.

I turned on the radio and set it to a classic rock station, hoping I would have a decent chance of knowing the songs and being able to hum along.

I glanced over to check my mirrors and see that the skeleton had buckled his seatbelt.

As I pulled my car out of the parking spot I hoped I could complete everything before the migraine hit.

A girl could hope.

---

Aura

As I pulled into the supermarket parking lot I cursed past-me for the hundredth time. I shouldn’t have had coffee yesterday. At the time I had been desperate for the caffeine boost, but now that I was suffering I didn’t feel the trade-off had been worth it.

I parked and got out of the car, pulling my list from my bag.

My hands were shaking. I glanced over at Sans, considering asking him for help.

Guilt washed over me, settling in the now-familiar pit in my stomach. How could I ask him for help when I was dragging him everywhere on my errands?

“Hey, I forgot to ask – Are you okay coming with me for all of this? I could take you home, if you wanted.”

Sans shrugged at me and I frowned at him in annoyance. The silent treatment was getting old.

“Sans. I don’t want to make you do things you don’t want to do. If you’d rather go home, you should tell me,” I said, letting my frustration bleed into my tone.

“We’re already here,” he said with another shrug. “Let’s just do this.”

I sighed, unable to argue with that logic. I wondered if he would have said differently if I had thought to ask him earlier.

My stomach was in knots from the calibration. I was second and triple-guessing myself about it. I wondered if I could have figured out a better way to keep the skeleton safe without making him feel owned.

I wanted to protect him, keep him safe.

He probably wanted to protect himself, not rely on some stupid human girl like me to do it for him.

I wouldn’t want to rely on me.

I shook my head, pushing my thoughts aside as I grabbed a cart and we entered the store.

Even with my sunglasses on my symptoms worsened as we worked through my list.

Frustratingly there was still no pain.

In the produce section my vision doubled and bright spots flickered in and out of existence. I ignored it as best I could, stopping and closing my eyes as I leaned against the display, waiting for the worst to pass.

I hoped Sans would think I was just serious about finding the best five pound bag of potatoes.

As we walked by the aisle labeled Ethnic Foods I noticed a display of Monster food. I paused, having never paid much attention to it before.

“Hey, Sans? Do you like any of this stuff?” I asked. “Or … is there anything you need? I never thought to ask if you can eat human food.”

Sans shrugged but came around the cart to look at the display. “It’s not as good as monster food, but it’s fine. Won’t make me sick or anythin’.”

I skimmed over the shelves, eventually grabbing a bag of monster candy. The one I kept at home was running low, and I liked keeping it around. As I turned back around I noticed a tin labeled Magic Powder.

“What’s this?” I asked, picking it up.

It looked like a tin of hot chocolate or instant coffee. I flipped it around in my hands.

No ingredient list, but it claimed to be safe for humans to eat.

Sans glanced at the tin before returning his black-socket stare to the shelves. “It’s a food additive. Makes human food easier for monsters to digest,” he explained.

I checked the price, tallied my budget in my head, and added it to the cart.

“What’s the difference between human and monster food, anyway?” I asked.

“Magic,” Sans said as he turned around empty-handed. “They don’t have anything I like.”

I rolled my eyes at his non-answer and continued on. We had more groceries to get.

The bright spots lingered longer and longer each time they flashed across my vision. I compensated by relying on other clues for what I needed to get. They weight, shape, and location of items, along with half-visible hints on packaging was enough for me to hide my growing disability.

At least, until I got to the pasta and realized I couldn’t read any of the package labels. Half my vision was a bright blur while the other was doubled and distorted.

I squinted at the box in my hand, as thought that would make the letters clearer.

I was almost certain it was lasagna. But I couldn’t feel the shape and the packaging was the same as the boxes for all the other types of noodles.

“Fuck,” I muttered as I glanced at Sans. The monster was a blue and black blur leaning against the shelves on the other side of the aisle.

I held the box out to him with a sigh. “Can you tell me what kind of noodles these are?”

He took a step forward, accepting the package from me.

“Lasagna?” he asked. I wondered if he thought I was trying to play a trick on him.

“Is it whole grain?” I asked.

Sans was silent long enough that I figured he didn’t understand my question.

“Uh … are the noodles brown or white?” I asked.

“White?” he said, sounding even more uncertain. “Or at least … they aren’t brown.”

“Could you see if you can find some of the brown ones?” I asked. “They’re supposed to be healthier.”

“Why can’t you get it yourself?” Sans asked as he moved to put the package back. I leaned against the cart when it seemed like he was doing as I asked.

“Four boxes, if you find it. Please. Oh! And whole wheat spaghetti noodles would be great, too.”

I smirked as I thought of how to answer his question. “Wow, I’ve gone this long without you realizing I’m terribly illiterate? I guess I pass better than I thought!”

Sans turned to me with an unreadable expression and I snorted.

“I’m joking,” I said. I looked away and ran a hand through my hair, feeling awkward. “I’m … having trouble seeing at the moment. I can’t read the boxes, or see the pictures on them.”

“That’s … not good?” Sans said, concern obvious in his voice.

Enough concern that I blinked in surprise. Why was he worried about me?

I tried to hide my shock behind a shrug and a wave of my hand. “It happens sometimes, I’ll be fine. It usually goes away in an hour or two.”

I felt self-conscious under his concern. I didn’t want him worrying over me, so I didn’t mention that when my vision was better I wouldn’t actually be in better shape.

I could take my medication when that happened.

He wouldn’t even notice.

“Usually?”

I nodded as Sans put some boxes in the cart. He was more careful with them than I expected, placing them gently so the noodles wouldn’t break.

“Yeah, usually,” I said. I glanced at the list in my hand and tried to remember what was on it. Before I could even try to focus it was pulled out of my hands.

“If you can’t see why are you trying to read?” Sans asked. He looked at the list. “How do you even read this normally? Next on the list is Pasta Sauce, then Beans.”

“Sauce is right there,” I said, pointed to the shelves behind him. “Beans are a couple aisles over.”

Five minutes later I was reaching for a bag of Goldfish crackers and my vision went black as my legs gave out from under me. I stumbled into the shelf, desperately grabbing onto it as I tried to regain my balance and catch my breath.

My heart was beating hard and fast with the sudden burst of adrenaline.

“Whoa!” Sans shouted, suddenly beside me to help keep me upright. “You okay?”

I tried to shrug out of his grasp, uncomfortably aware of how close he was to me. I couldn’t manage it, not with my arms weak and shaky and my nervous system going haywire.

I growled softly in frustration. I didn’t want him worrying over me.

I don’t have a choice.

“No,” I admitted. “I’m … really not. Can you help me find somewhere to sit?”

Sans made a noise of agreement and helped me back to the front of the store where there were benches. I collapsed when he let me go and dropped my head into my hands with a groan of frustration.

“Are you sure this is normal?” Sans pressed. I looked over at him, glad my vision had somewhat returned, even if it was still unfocused.

At least I had sight in both eyes again.

The skeleton looked so worried, the bone between his eye sockets knit together in concern.

Concern for me.

Why was he worried about me?

I looked away, leaning my head back against the brick wall and closing my eyes.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I said. “I’m fine.”

“Kid, you just passed out in the cookie aisle. You’re sweaty, your hands are freezing,” he said. “That doesn’t sound like ‘fine.’ Are you sick? Do you need a doctor or somethin’?”

I shook my head and immediately regretted it as the movement made my stomach churn.

Great, now I was getting nausea.

Still no pain.

“I’m not sick, not like you’re thinking,” I muttered as I shifted again, propping my head on my hands, elbows on my knees. “I don’t know if monsters get these, but you ever heard of a migraine?”

“A bad headache, right?” Sans asked.

“More or less,” I said as I waved a hand from side to side. “I get them sometimes. I have a few triggers.” I counted them off on my fingers as I named them. “Stress, lack of sleep, poor diet, no diet, caffeine … ” I glared up at the store lights. “Fluorescent lights.”

I dropped my head back into my hands, eyes closed against my palms.

I was out of options.

I’d been out of options for a while.

I had just been in denial.

I couldn’t finish my errands like this. Not with my legs barely supporting my weight, not with my vision so blurry I couldn’t read.

Even if I could manage to finish shopping and get everything to my car, I couldn’t drive. I didn’t even think I could walk the half mile to my apartment, let alone climb three flights of stairs.

I dismissed the idea of asking Sans to drive. Monsters were required to have special certifications to operate anything more complex than a bicycle. The certificates were notoriously difficult to obtain.

As far as I knew there were only a handful of monsters allowed to drive. All of them were owned by taxi companies.

I pulled my phone from my jacket pocket with a sigh, unlocking it and holding it out to Sans.

“You know how to work a phone, right?”

“Uh, yeah? I’ve been using yours all week.”

I shrugged, uncertain why I had even asked.

“Can you go to the contacts and find the name ‘Abby’? It’s spelled with two As, to keep it near the top,” I said.

Sans made an affirmative sound and took the device from my hand. I noticed he was careful not to touch me directly. I relaxed as best I could while I waited, but nervous, anxious energy had me shifting positions every few seconds.

I hated feeling like this.

“Found her, now what?” he asked after a moment.

“Send her a text saying ’S-O-S Migraine,’ ” I said. “She’ll know what it means.”

After a moment Sans asked, “She wants to know where we are?”

“Open the Maps app, that should have a way of sharing our location,” I said. I waited moment before continuing. “I can do it if you can’t figure it out. I can’t remember well enough to explain, but I think I have the muscle memory to-”

“She’s on her way,” Sans said, cutting me off.

“Oh!” I startled. I turned away from him, feeling awkward. “Thanks.”

He tapped my arm and put my phone back in my hand. I was about to slip it back into my pocket when I changed my mind.

“It’s gonna be a bit. If you want to play a game or something, you can,” I offered.

Sans was silent for a moment before taking my phone back. I sighed and dropped my hand. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Sans asked, confusion clear in his voice.

Right, he had no idea why I was suddenly apologizing.

“For dragging you out on our one day off. For getting a migraine. For calibrating the collar. For … For being … like this,” I said with a wave at myself.

It wasn’t enough. There was so much more.

I had an ever growing sense of guilt that had begun when I accepted him as a bribe. It grew every time our relationship was mentioned.

Every time I had to demonstrate my ownership of him.

I was sorry that I owned him.

That he was stuck with someone as useless as me.

“I’m sorry we won’t be able to get you clothes today,” I said, annoyed at how stupid I sounded.

It wasn’t enough, but I couldn’t say anything else. Guilt and self-hatred blocked my tongue and throat.

It wasn’t bad enough that I was a slave owner.

Of course not.

I had to be the shitty owner who couldn’t even find time to get her slave basic necessities. Like clothes.

I was the worst.

Sans shifted on the bench next to me, but I didn’t open my eyes to see why.

I was tired. So very tired.

I rested my head in my hands and groaned.

At least this time there was no static in my ears.

---

Abby

My sister and I are opposites in every way.

On my best days I look like I just rolled out of my bed and threw on whatever was clean. She never looks less than perfect.

I’m short and dark, taking after the abuela that I’d met a grand total of three times in my entire life.

Abby is gorgeous. She’s glamorous without being showy. Tall and imposing, she commands the room when she enters. She got her looks from our mother’s side, all golden hair and blue eyes.

When Abby left home she didn’t just blossom into herself, she flourished.

I loved her.

The best thing about her is how I feel whenever I’m near her. That I’m safe and protected.

Wanted.

Loved.

She’s commanding in a way that isn’t domineering. She says to do something and it is always the right thing to do. People fall over themselves to follow her instruction.

“List,” she demanded, hand out for it, as soon as she found me on the bench by the store entrance.

I took the list from Sans, who was staring at her dumbly, and handed it to her.

“Hi,” I said, with a bob of my head.

Abby held the list out to the side for her husband to take, and I frowned as I realized what she was doing.

“Wait, I have – ”

“Nope. No arguments from you,” Abby said with a hand up to silence me.

“Hey there, Tess,” Xander said warmly. “Don’t worry about this, I got it.”

I frowned but relented. There was no arguing with Abby when she made up her mind, and it wasn’t like I could finish my shopping.

“I abandoned a half-filled cart in the cracker and cookie aisle, it should still be there,” I said. “Thank you.”

Xander nodded and gave Abby a small kiss before disappearing further into the store to do my errands.

Abby looked down at me and I looked up, trying to focus on her blurry form.

“Let’s get you home,” she said with a smile. “Keys?”

I nodded and fished my keys from my bag, dropping them into my sister’s waiting hand. I shifted my feet under me to stand, and Sans moved to my side to help.

Abby frowned at him and looked at me. “Are you okay to walk?”

I waved Sans away and got to my feet, testing my legs. I was still wobbly, with a heavy numbness that disconnected my brain from my feet, but I could walk.

I nodded.

“It’s mostly visual,” I said, waving a hand in front of my face. “Double vision, blind spots, bright spots.”

I heard Sans make a noise of disapproval so I quickly added. “I do have weakness in my legs and some dizziness, that sort of thing. But I can walk.”

“Have you taken anything?”

I started to shake my head before remembering why I really shouldn’t, I put a hand to my mouth as I waited for the nausea to pass.

“I’m not supposed to until there’s pain. This is all prodrome and aura.”

Abby made an affirmative huff and turned to leave. Before I followed her I stopped to look where her husband had disappeared into the store. If he was still visible I couldn’t make him out among the various blurry figures.

“I should give Xander some money to pay for all that.”

Abby waved a hand in dismissal. “If you want to make it up to us, come visit more often. Or introduce me to your friend.”

I blinked, suddenly realizing I hadn’t done that.

Abby had done what she did best – entered a situation and immediately taken charge. It was a skill I had never learned, and was something I greatly admired in her.

It served her well.

“My car is parked down aisle … L?” I said, trying to remember.

“I,” Sans said. “There’s not an L.”

Abby nodded and turned int hat direction before repeating, “So, who is your friend?”

I sighed, not prepared to have this conversation now as I tried to focus on walking and not tripping over my own shadow.

“His name is Sans,” I explained, “He’s my roommate. Moved in last week.”

Abby made a thoughtful hum but didn’t say anything as we got to my car. She unlocked it, opening the back door so I could lay down for the brief ride home.

Sans paused for a moment, uncertain of where he should go.

Abby smiled widely at him. “You get shotgun. Hop in!”

They both settled into the front seats.

Abby immediately had to reposition the driver’s seat to accommodate her height.

“Who drives this normally? A child?” she teased, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “Is this a car for ants?”

“Ha. Ha.” I snarked back at her. “Not my fault you got the Frostgiant genes and I ended up a dwarf.”

“You’re more like a halfling. Or a gnome,” Abby said with a smile. “You just need one of those pointy red hats and you’d fit right in.”

She adjusted the rearview mirror and our eyes met as I shifted to lay down.

“It’s good to see you, Angel,” she said, her voice gentle and soothing. “Let’s go home.”

Abby parked in my usual spot and helped me out of the car. She had a contemplative look on her face as she watched me sway on my feet.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to handle the stairs,” she declared after a moment.

“I’ll be fi- ”

“Nope. You’re wobbling more than a newborn calf,” she said. She knelt down, her back to me. “Come on, it’s piggyback time.”

“Abby,” I whined.

“Just do it,” she said.

I climbed onto her back with a sigh, but I was secretly relieved. I wasn’t entirely certain I could manage the stairs with my numb legs and reeling head.

Abby carried me down the stairs of the parking garage and back up the stairs to my apartment. Not once did she complain about the number of stairs or my extra weight on her back. She wasn’t even breathing hard when we got to the door.

“Can you get to your room?” she asked as she unlocked the apartment, stepping aside to let Sans in first.

“Yeah,” I said as I took my keys from her.

“Go lay down, I’ll bring you something to drink.”

I shouldered off my jacket in the doorway and dropped my bag off the side of my bed and gratefully collapsed.

My relief was short lived as I glared at my window. The sun was at the perfect angle to reflect off the windows across the street, sending the glare of the afternoon sun directly into my eyes.

I had blackout curtains but now that I was laying down I didn’t think I could get up again. Or across the room.

Before I could seriously contemplate getting back up, Abby was there. She handed me a water bottle and then turned to pull down the curtains, blocking out the intruding light. I turned on my lamp, bathing the room in a mellow incandescent glow.

I pulled myself up enough to settle into the corner, giving Abby space to join me on the bed.

“Need anything else?” she asked as she sat next to me.

I took a sip of water and gave her the tiniest shake of my head.

“I’m fine. Given time, darkness, and quiet I’ll be okay.”

Abby looked me over with concern, her stare lingering at my bared arms. I squirmed, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. I grabbed a pillow to hug to my chest, and pulled a blanket over my shoulders, hiding my arms from view.

She got the hint and looked toward the door instead.

“Tell me about him,” she encouraged. She turned back to me, smile wide and eyes bright. “Tell me about Sans.”

Her eyes held no judgement, no hate, no disappointment. None of what I felt toward my self. Instead they were curious, filled with a desire to understand. I looked away, unable to meet her eyes with my own.

“It happened last week, after I visited mom,” I explained. “I was just so … so angry at her. I didn’t want to come home and stew in it, so I went to Solar’s.”

At the name she flinched. A grimace flickered across her face, there and gone in a blink. Abby looked at me, concern furrowing her brow. “I wish you wouldn’t hang around Apollo.”

“I mostly don’t,” I said. “I mostly go there because there’s a monster working the bar. He’s nice. Friendly. I like talking to him.”

Abby still looked uncomfortable, so I continued. “I maybe see Apollo once every couple of weeks. He isn’t there very often, not out front at least. Even when he is, I barely talk to him.”

She let out a conflicted groan, but didn’t press the issue. Instead she just caught my eyes with hers.

“Be careful around him, alright?”

I nodded and wondered where this was coming from. Abby and Apollo had never been close, but they had been friends once. They had gone to and graduated high school in the same class. It was how I knew him.

“Anyway,” I said, looking away again. “I was on my way to Solar’s when I started feeling weird. It was like an aura but I never got a migraine, and it only lasted a few minutes. I walked right by the bar. Didn’t even see it.”

I frowned, recalling how disorienting the moment had been, wondering why I had an episode like that. “When I stopped, I was in the middle of a fight.”

Abby’s hand flew to her mouth as she made a sound of protest.

I held up my hands defensively, letting the pillow flop forward and the blanket fall from my shoulders. “I didn’t mean to, it just … happened? There was a crowd and I somehow managed to get to the middle of it.”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself for the next part of the story. “There was an old guy beating on Sans with his cane.”

My chest rekindled the ashes of the white-hot rage that I had felt during the fight. “He ordered Sans to stay still. To take the beating. The collar accepted it.”

I saw Abby’s hands and jaw clench in anger. She couldn’t stand seeing the defenseless take a beating.

“Sans was going to get hurt so … I stepped in. I grabbed the old guy’s cane. He spun around and sucker punched me.”

I motioned to the mostly-healed bruise on my cheek. Abby hadn’t mentioned it, so I assume she hadn’t noticed it. Her eyes narrowed as I continued.

“He gave me Sans to stop me from calling the cops on him, pressing charges for assault.” I looked away, ashamed. “I accepted. I … I didn’t want to leave Sans with some bastard who would beat him on the street. Who wouldn’t let him defend himself.”

I had taken my fair share of beatings, but I had never been unable to defend myself. I had always had the option to try to protect myself.

I was never so helplessly defenseless.

The thought was terrifying. Horrifying on a visceral level.

I shuddered and bundled my pillow back up to bury my face in it. I didn’t want Abby to see the tears stinging my eyes.

“And now I own a slave,” I cried, the words catching in my throat as I choked them out, voice thick with misery and regret.

“I’m no better than mom.”

Abby stared at me as my words sank in, processing the full meaning. Before I could protest her arms were around me, pulling me into a tight embrace, crushing the pillow and me against her chest.

I tensed against the touch, fighting the urge to push her away, to escape her hold.

Then … the dam broke.

I stiffly returned the hug, trying desperately to stop my tears, to somehow hide them from her.

A week’s worth of guilt, regret, and self-loathing had been set free. I couldn’t stop.

Abby waited for a lull in my quiet sobbing before whispering, “You are nothing like her, Angel. Nothing.”

She pulled away, smiling at me in apology for invading my space. I rubbed at my arms, looking away and unable to stop the tears.

Abby looked at her hands, tracing the lines on her palms with her eyes. It was something she did when she was thinking about something, trying to decide the best order to the put the words in.

I wondered what she was trying to figure out.

We sat in silence for a moment or two as I regained control of my tears. When I was finally able to breathe normally she spoke, her voice calm and soft. Gentle, like when she would talk Jamie down from a tantrum years ago.

“What have you actually done to Sans?”

I blinked at her, confused and off balance from the question.

Wasn’t it obvious?

“I … I own him, Abby.”

She tilted her head for a moment, before giving it a little shake. “No, that’s not what I mean. I want to know what specific actions you have taken against him. How have you exerted your authority over him? Do you beat him? Order him around? Tell me what exactly you have done to cause Sans harm?”

I blinked at her again, frowning. “I … I control his entire life now. Everything. He has no agency and it’s my fault.”

Abby shook her head. “No, it’s not. Angel, if you vanished from existence what about his situation would change? Do you think he would be better off, or worse?” You are not the problem. The system is the problem.”

I didn’t respond and she sighed and looked back toward the door.

“What choices should you have made differently?” she asked. “Should you have come home instead of going to Solar’s?”

I shrugged, “It’d probably be a good idea for me to save money.”

She rolled her eyes with an annoyed huff. “You know that’s not what I meant. Was it morally wrong to go to Solar’s?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Was it wrong to stop a fight in the street?”

“No..”

“Then was it wrong to try to help someone out of a volatile, dangerous, violent situation?”

“ … No,” I said with a frown. “But it was wrong for me to accept Sans as a bribe! Like … like he’s an object that can be traded around!”

Abby wobbled her hand back and forth. “Perhaps, but what was the other option? You press charges against the man and Sans … what? Goes back home with a violent human who is willing to beat him in public? Or perhaps he would be better off at a dealer. Or an auction house! Just waiting to be sold off to someone even worse. Or you’ve heard of the black market slave trade. You know how easy it would be for him to end up there.” She sighed and looked back at me, reaching her hands out but not pushing for anything.

“Theresa, you need to stop thinking about this in black and white. Life has nuance, Angel. Stop thinking about the labels society imposes on you. Stop thinking of Sans as a slave. Stop thinking of yourself as a slave owner. That’s how mom thinks. How Apollo thinks.”

“How!?” I demanded, more venom and volume to my voice than I meant. “He is a slave. I am a slave owner. He’s my property! I can’t … I can’t just … ignore that.”

Abby frowned at me, disappointment finally darkening her eyes. “I didn’t know you believed the government had the power to take away the basic personhood of sentient beings. You have asserted, for years, that the government cannot claim ownership of these people. That their claim of that power is unjust and invalid, no matter what the law says.”

She put a hand under my chin, guiding me to raise my head without touching me. Our eyes met and the disappointment was gone, replaced with unconditional love. “Why are you letting them decide who and what you are? What you do?”

I stared at her as the words embedded themselves in my brain.

“The government that says you’re a slave owner is the same government that said I was a boy for most of my life,” Abby said. “But we both know I’ve always been your big sister, right?”

I nodded and she smiled warmly at me.

“Do you truly believe you can own another person?” she asked.

I shook my head, unable to speak.

“I didn’t think so. If you don’t believe you can own another person, you shouldn’t feel guilty and berate yourself for doing so. Forget the labels. Forget what other people have defined and labeled this as.”

She thought for a moment before asking, “What do you want from Sans?”

“I don’t want anything from him,” I said.

“What do you want for him?”

I blinked at her, caught off guard.

I chewed my lip as I considered the question.

“I … I want him to be safe from abuse. I want him to have a home and food and everything he needs to survive. I want him to live. I want him to thrive. I want him to be happy,” I felt more confident as I spoke, the list getting longer the more I thought about it. “I want him to not have to worry that he’s going to be forced to do something he doesn’t want. I want him to have the autonomy to do what he wants.”

I looked away as I realized the simplest, fullest answer to her question.

“I want him to be free.”

“Do you think mom would answer the same? What about Apollo?”

I shook my head.

“That is what makes you different from mom. From Apollo. From the majority of slave owners,” she said gently. “You don’t want Sans to do anything for you. You want to help him live his own life.”

I felt my chest swell with something like hope as I considered her words.

Maybe I’m not a bad person?

Abby looked back to the door with a chuckle. “Your situation reminds me of my clients, in some ways.”

“How does this remind you of work?” I asked, tilting my head in confusion.

“Sans is disadvantaged. He is in a society that doesn’t accept his right to self-determination, instead giving that responsibility to you,” she explained. “That’s not so different from the children I help. You’re like a guardian ad litem. You are his legal representation. Your job is to ensure that Sans is treated fairly, both in the eyes of society, and in the eyes of the law. To make sure he has as much autonomy as possible.”

I looked to the door with a frown. “How do I do that?”

Abby stared at me for a moment before letting out a snort. A surprised huff that quickly devolved into whole-hearted, head-thrown-back belly laughs that brought tears to her eyes.

I shifted further into my corner, confused and uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” she said as her laughter died down to persistent giggles. “It’s been so long … sometimes I forget that you’re one of the smartest morons I’ve ever known.”

I pouted, annoyed and frustrated that I was missing the joke.

I felt like a little kid, not able to keep up with her cool big sister. It was uncomfortably familiar.

Abby settled down and took a few breaths, calming herself. “The way you do that is by talking to him,” she said, emphasizing the words. I rolled my eyes, a thousand arguments coming to mind. “Whenever you can, you should delegate decisions about his life to him. When you can’t, you should make the decision you think he would want you to make. Or the decision that is best for him.”

“He won’t talk to me,” I argued.

“Then keep trying. Treat him like a person. A broken, scarred, scared person who has been screwed by the system. A person who is in your care.” She put a hand near my cheek, not quite touching me, just offering. I leaned into the touch, and we both softened a little. “He’ll come to see you as the wonderful person you are. It just might take some time.”

I leaned against her hand, trying to come up with another argument, something I could say to prove I was in the wrong.

But she was right.

It was a shitty, fucked-up situation that none of us wanted to be a part of.

I had been given more control over Sans’ life than I wanted, than I was comfortable with. The system declared he was unfit to have that autonomy.

The system was wrong.

But it was the system we were in.

I needed to make the best of it. I needed to make sure Sans had the best he could, until the system changed.

Abby smiled at me, “There’s the fighter I know. There’s my Angel.”

I smiled back at her, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders and the pit in my stomach shrink.

I wanted to do better. I wanted to make things right.

Abby pulled away from me, a serious look on her face. “Every time you call yourself a ‘slave owner,’ you are endorsing the system as legitimate,” she said. “I’m ashamed to hear you say it. Reject their illegitimate authority.”

“I will,” I said with a nod that set off a small spark of pain behind my eyes. “I do.”

“Good,” she said with a gentle, soft smile. My favorite smile. She stood and stretched. “My dear Xander should be here soon, if he hasn’t made it already. We’ll get your groceries sorted and then head back home. Is there anything else you need? How’s your head?”

I had been so involved in the conversation that I hadn’t noticed the aura fading.

I also hadn’t noticed the pain growing,

“It’s starting to hurt,” I admitted. “I’ll take some painkillers and go to sleep.”

I shuffled around in my bag for the pill bottle before glancing back up at her as she reached for the door. “Um … could you also make sure Sans has something to eat? He’s probably vanished into his room – I don’t know which one – but if you call for him he’ll usually appear.”

“I’d be glad to,” Abby said with a bright smile. “Get some rest, and tomorrow make sure you talk to him. Even if he doesn’t talk back.”

I nodded, wincing as another explosion of pain burst behind my eyes.

“I will. Thanks, Abby. For everything.”

She ruffled my hair, much like I had done to James a few hours before.

“Of course, what else are big sisters for?”

I smiled as she left the room, noting that she remembered to lock it behind her. I took a pill and popped it into my mouth, grimacing as it dissolved on my tongue.

The relief was worth it, but damn did these things taste nasty.

I turned off my lamp, undressing in the dark. I was too exhausted to bother changing into actual pajamas, so I curled up in bed in my t-shirt and panties.

I double checked my morning alarms before cuddling into my nest of blankets.

For the first time in a week I felt … okay.

I am a good person.

I am going to prove it.

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