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<i>A servant. A pet.</i>​</div>That was exactly what she wanted him to think, too.<br/><br/>For even if the girl had no memory, she still knew<i>a man will underestimate a woman any chance he gets</i>. Fortunately in her current bind—this played well to her captive advantage. Fair and square. As unlike her as it was to take such blatant misogyny, take it she did. There was a proud feminist in there somewhere, apparently, but not now there wasn't. Now, the less anyone thought her capable of—the better for escape. In fact, the only thing that could make this more ideal would be if the man flat out told her what the fuck was going on, and then left.<br/><br/><span style="font-family: 'tahoma'"><span style="font-size: 15px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(209, 72, 65)"><i>Be back by nightfall. Leave her here. </i></span></span></span><span style="font-size: 18px"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman'"><span style="font-family: 'tahoma'"><span style="font-size: 15px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(209, 72, 65)"><i>Mark her with this. As we mark our territories with a sign or symbol, so too should you mark
	

	
	
		
		



		
		
	


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 your property. So you'll always know it's yours.</i></span></span></span> </span></span><br/><br/>She couldn't decide whether it was luck or coincidence, but thank God men were predictable. Reliable, even, as the floorboard creak on Hook's way out. The dead leaf crunch, and twig snap under his foot, followed by the haunting silence thereafter. Just like the last time Hook left her so frightened that she forgot who she was—<i>he was gone.</i><br/><br/>This one, though.... Her eyes would now find Peter's in the reflection of the scythe. This one treated her like she was about to break if he wasn't careful. It was enough to make her wonder if she really was fragile after all. Reaching to touch her face as one might approach a wild animal, his hand would stroke her cheek and then retreat so quickly that it was almost like he was scared.<i>Of her?</i><i><b>H</b></i><b><i>e</i></b>, the one holding a blade to her as he copped a feel!?<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(171, 219, 227)"><b>"Could you please... put that down first? It's kind of threatening." </b></span>She asks him politely, eyes pointing to the scythe with an obvious gesture of uncertainty. It's not like anyone ever listened<div class="bbImageWrapper bbImageAligned--right lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/90/22/fc/9022fca088350362a262f1344115e598.gif" title="9022fca088350362a262f1344115e598.gif">
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</div>to her up until now, but it was the worth the try, wasn't it? They wanted to name her, apparently, which meant they wanted her for something. At least it wasn't food. Her eyes follow to the other person in the room all the same. The one she had forgotten about, she was so quiet. The woman.<br/><br/>For some reason the girl felt less comforted by her than she did before.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(171, 219, 227)"><b>"You don't need to do something just because he says so, either, you know. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do." </b></span>her tone is both matter of fact and confident in persuasion. Perhaps a know-it-all in her previous life. Teacher's pet trying to teach Peter a lesson in how to stand up to men like his father. You know, the kind of man who kills anyone who dares. Again, it was worth a try.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(171, 219, 227)"><b>"Not unless <i>you want to</i>, that is, but I mean...Why would you? I'm <i>yours </i>now, right? Is it normal to <i>vandalize </i>your own property? No one gets something just to <i>break </i>it, do they?"</b></span><br/><br/>She feels an answer from across the room, but it's not the one she wants.