Made

There was a cut on her lip. That was the first thing he noticed when they got to his house. He was stalling, trying to come up with anything to do other than talk about what had just happened, as it played over and over again in his head. "Owning her". He let out an involuntary shudder.

Laila was quiet, though that wasn't unusual from his perspective. She sat crouched on his sofa, barely taking up one cushion, staring idly into space while he paced the living room.

"What are you gonna do with me?" she finally asked.

He sighed. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

"Whatever you want."

He ran his hand over his face. He hadn't signed up for this. It was just supposed to be a ride from the airport.

"I don't know," he groaned, finally stopping in his pacing and sinking down to his knees on the plush carpet. He found himself almost touching her duffle bag, and wondered with a sick curiosity what sort of papers were inside. Had she seen them? Did she know that this would happen?
"Did you know he would do this?" he blurted out.

She looked down at him. "Yes."

He swallowed, feeling his mouth go dry.

"I can't do this," he murmured, refusing to look at her. He heard her sniffle. "I'm letting you go. I'm freeing you."

Laila let out a chuckle that sounded a lot like a sob. "Where am I supposed to go?" she asked.

"Anywhere. Everywhere. You're free, you don't have to take orders." He paused. "Is that what you did? Took orders?"

"Something like that."

"Are you always this vague?"

"You seem like you don't really want to know." She sniffled, then put her legs down. "Are you really letting me go?"

"Yes. Owning people is illegal and immoral."

She scoffed. "I'm going to work, then." She leaned down and grabbed her duffle bag, slinging it over her shoulder with a visible wince.

"Let me give you a ride," he called out over his shoulder.

"Fuck you," she replied as she stormed out.