Free Pieces of Autumn by Mara Black Page B

longer I was alone.  
    I had always been a practical person - skeptical, most of the time, because it was necessary. I hadn't been surviving on the streets since I was a teenager by believing in things without proof. But I'd once been told, by an old woman who told fortunes in the park, that a house takes on the characteristic of the people who live there. It breathes you in, absorbing aspects of your soul. That was the reason, she explained, that some houses felt haunted, even by people who were still alive.
    I had just nodded politely, having absolutely no idea what she was talking about. But I did now. Tate's ghost followed me from room to room. There was no mistaking it. When I laid my hand on the doorknob that led into his bedroom, I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end.  
    It was locked, of course. But I lingered for a while, and I couldn't stop shivering.
    He absolutely permeated this place. I closed my eyes for a moment, running my hand along the wood, is if I could somehow read his memories off of the walls.  
    I want to know you.
    How could one man be so full of contradictions? Acting so cold, while the ice laced with fire in his veins? He was filled with desires that seemed hell-bent on destroying him. I thought I'd never seen someone so tormented as he was when he dragged me into his room. He looked like he wanted to rip out a part of his own soul.
    He must have been a customer of Stoker's, a long time ago. But what had happened between him and the girl Daniela? What was so terrible that he was inspired to hate them? And why did this "H" think that a gift of another girl would be enough to smooth things over?
    Clearly, Stoker thought of us as replaceable commodities. That didn't surprise me. But did Tate?
    In spite of what he said, I didn't believe it. He did care about whether I lived or died. He cared far too much, for his own good. It had been a struggle for him to help me, like he feared some negative consequences for doing it.  
    Of course, he couldn't trust me. Just like I couldn't trust him. We were still circling each other cautiously, trying to read each other's intentions. Mine were simple enough. Tate, however, couldn't seem to accept that. Something inside him was too warped to understand that I simply wanted to say alive. He was searching for something sinister.
    I almost hated to disappoint him.
    But you did lie.
    Of course I'd lied. I had no choice. Frustrated, I tried to smother the guilt in the back corner of my mind. Tate wasn't someone worth feeling guilty over. He was cruel and ruthless. He actually thought I deserved to be treated like a possession, all because I made a desperate choice. It was easy to judge, from his ivory tower. He had everything he could possibly want here. It must be hard to imagine how someone could be so cold and hungry and afraid that they'd be willing to sell their body.
    Anger roiled through me, as I remembered some of the things he'd said. He'd concocted a very nice justification for himself, so he didn't have to feel bad about buying girls. I'd disabuse him of that notion, somehow. He needed to understand.  
      When I heard the door unlatch, my heart jumped. What was I supposed to do? Go and meet him? Had I forgotten something he told me to do? Panic coursed through me, and I was frozen in my spot, sitting at the kitchen table.
    Tate stormed in, and didn't even pause to look into the kitchen as he passed. I heard him slam one of the upstairs doors open.
    He was looking, I realized - for me.
    My stomach flipped.
    And then, I heard his voice.

    "COME!"  
    Tate's voice boomed through the house, making the short hairs on my body stand on end.  
    He was beyond angry. Before I even got close to his room, I could feel it in waves.
    When I walked in, heart pounding, he didn't turn around. I walked in hesitantly and sat down on the chaise lounge, trying not to remember what had already happened here.
    At last, he turned to me and spoke. His face was twisted with