Ancilla: SOUNDBITE EDITION. (SERIALIZED, MATURE SECTIONS MARKED)

*Kether (PART 2, has 1578 words)

My books are crammed into milk crates as full as the milk crates can be packed. I had to sacrifice some of my crates because we couldn't fit all the crates into the back seat and trunk of the car in one trip without leaving behind my suitcase and bedding, so all the books got double and triple stacked. I can always steal more milk crates. Free modular bookcases, available behind cafeterias and convenience stores in the wee hours of the morning, if you're quick about it and keep yourself covered.

He's keeping the computer Lydia gave me. There's no room for it in the car. Besides, I won't have any need for a PC of my own if I have access to the campus computer lab, nor will I need to use the AOL account to access the internet on campus.

A large shopping bag sits on the floor, with a new pillow in it, a couple of towels, and a twin-size bed-in-a-bag with striped sheets and pillowcases and a dark paisley print comforter inside it, all from the department store in the mall we visited earlier today. The home goods section was nearly picked clean; I was lucky to find something that I liked. This time of year, there are a lot of college students getting dorm furnishings.

Another shopping bag is stuffed full of cheap white cotton undershirts from the men's department. There are enough disposable shirts in there to cover my back for two months before I will need to buy more, if my back still needs protective coverings by then. It probably won't, but it never hurts to be prepared.

I can fit most of the rest of my possessions in a single large suitcase, which I bought from the same department store where I found the bed linens. My regular clothing barely takes up half the space; my winter coat fills up the other half. There's plenty of room in among the clothing to fit the rest of my belongings, most of which are presents Erastes has given me over the years we've been together: The brocade fabric and trim from various Yule present wrappings that I eventually sewed into an altar cloth - not that I've ever bothered setting up my own altar, but someday, I might. A deck of tarot cards that look like they were inspired by Alphonse Mucha. Crowley's Thoth deck. A large gazing ball made of obsidian. An ornate jewelry box containing the ouroboros pendant, the opal choker, my earrings, and some other trinkets he gave me because he said they reminded him of me.

One of the photos Lydia took of the two of us the day she had me pose for her in the cemetery is stuffed inside a book. I dithered over whether to take any of the pictures, but ultimately, I decided that I wanted the option to look at his face, some time in the indefinite future. He's keeping most of them, though, including the framed photo.

The manacles go into the suitcase, then the steel-tipped scourge and the riding crop. I would have the other riding crop as well, the one that was his before we met each other, that over the years I covered with my bite marks and various bodily fluids, but he wants to keep that to remember me by, although he'll never use it again. A few other sex toys that are mine by default, because they can't be used on anyone else now that they've been inside me, go in as well.

All that's left is the red-handled cane. I never did find out what wood it's made of, but whatever it is, it's incredibly sturdy, given the heavy use it's seen. I place the cane on top, diagonally, and start to zip the suitcase, but then decide it would be safer to just carry the cane separately. I don't want to risk breaking it.

The tears start flowing when I zip the case shut.

I'm still crying when he comes into the bedroom. I must have gotten loud. I was trying to keep my sobbing quiet. I don't want to burden him with this, not when he's hurting, too. We're trying to handle this rationally. That our attempt isn't working is irrelevant.