Chapter Two: Home

The next hour blurred together for Riley.

One moment she had been kneeling on the soft carpet inside Presentation Chamber Four, and the next she was stepping barefoot out of Matilda’s car onto a quiet suburban street lined with trimmed hedges and parked vehicles still warm from the afternoon sun.

The exposure barely registered anymore.

Public nudity was simply the baseline for Animals. People looked sometimes, but only in the same absent way they might glance at someone walking a large dog or carrying groceries home from the store.

The world did not stop for her.

Children played street hockey further down the road, their laughter echoing between the rows of houses as the plastic ball clattered off curbs and driveways. A few of them noticed Riley immediately when she stepped onto the sidewalk beside Matilda.

They stared openly.

Curious.

But ultimately unbothered.

One little girl lowered her hockey stick slightly and called out across the street.

“She your dinner?”

Matilda laughed softly beside Riley.

“No, dear,” she answered easily. “She’s my new pet.”

The children exchanged glances at that.

“Want to say hello?” Matilda offered.

None of them moved.

Riley didn’t blame them.

She remembered being younger and seeing Animals in public for the first time. The uncertainty. The strange instinct to keep your distance even while staring.

Animals were normal.

But they were still different.

One of the boys shifted awkwardly before finally speaking up.

“Can she talk?”

Matilda smiled faintly.

“Of course she can.”

Now every eye settled fully onto Riley.

Waiting.

Riley hesitated for only a second before remembering herself.

“Hi,” she said quietly.

That small Human response immediately seemed to make her less frightening.

Within seconds the children abandoned their hockey sticks in the street and drifted closer in a loose nervous circle around her. None of them touched her, though a few looked tempted to.

Riley stood quietly beside Matilda while questions immediately started tumbling over one another.

“Where’re you from?”

“How old are you?”

“You smell like barbecue!”

Riley blinked at that last comment before a startled laugh escaped her.

Even Matilda smiled faintly beside her.

The lingering scent still clung faintly to Riley’s skin despite the weeks that had passed since the spa visit during conditioning. Most of the treatment had faded by now, washed away slowly over time.

But traces remained stubbornly behind.

Honey barbecue.

Sweet and smoky.

Like the ghost of a smell.

One of the boys leaned closer dramatically before wrinkling his nose.

“I’m serious!”

“I know,” Riley admitted, still laughing softly.

Lola immediately perked up beside her.

“It’s from a Meatgirl spa treatment,” she explained proudly, like possessing rare information suddenly made her an expert.

The other children stared even harder.

“A what?”

Lola folded her arms.

“It’s where they make Animals taste better.”

Heat rushed instantly back into Riley’s cheeks.

“Can I do that?” one of the girls asked immediately.

Matilda laughed softly.

“Only if you become an Animal someday. But you still look a little small for that.”

“I’m ten soon!”

Riley smiled despite herself and shook her head.

“Nah,” she said. “Not old enough.”

“How old are you then?”

The tone had changed slightly this time.

Less curiosity.

More challenge.

Like the girl had caught Riley accidentally pretending to be something she wasn’t.

Riley hesitated for only a second.

“Thirteen,” she admitted.

Then, automatically, she added:

“But you know it’s rude to ask a lady her age.”

A few of the children snickered.

But the same little girl frowned immediately.

“But you’re not a lady,” she pointed out matter-of-factly. “You’re an Animal.”

The words hit strangely harder than Riley expected.

Not cruelly.

The girl hadn’t meant them cruelly at all.

If anything she sounded confused.

Correcting her.

Riley opened her mouth before realizing she didn’t actually know what to say.

Because the child was right.

The silence stretched just long enough to become awkward before Matilda finally stepped in smoothly beside her.

“She used to be a lady,” Matilda said calmly. “Now she’s something a little different.”

The girl accepted that explanation instantly.

“Oh.”

Then her attention shifted away just as quickly toward the abandoned hockey game behind her, interest already fading now that the mystery had mostly been solved.

Children really were frighteningly adaptable sometimes.

Riley stood quietly beside Matilda while the others drifted back toward the street, their earlier nervous fascination already dissolving into ordinary boredom.

But the question lingered unpleasantly in the back of her mind anyway.

Not a lady.

An Animal.

She knew that already.

So why had hearing it out loud still stung?

Matilda’s hand settled gently against the small of Riley’s back, fingertips moving slowly across her skin.

“You alright, dear?”

Riley nodded once.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Little brat was just really blunt.”

Matilda smiled faintly at that.

“Children rarely have filters,” she said calmly. “Just like how you used a Human descriptor when she asked your age.”

Riley’s stomach dropped immediately.

“Am I in trouble for—”

“Not at all.”

Matilda interrupted her so quickly Riley barely managed to get the words out.

The reassurance hit almost physically.

“You’re not an Animal destined for slaughter or processing,” Matilda continued gently. “You’re my Companion. My pet.”

Her hand slid higher between Riley’s shoulders in one slow soothing stroke.

“My little girl.”

Warmth spread embarrassingly fast through Riley’s chest at the words.

“Just try to remember that you aren’t Human anymore,” Matilda said softly. “And if you slip, I’ll correct you.”

The statement should have sounded frightening.

Instead it felt reassuring.

Stable.

Riley lowered her eyes slightly as Matilda’s hand remained resting against her back.

“Okay,” she murmured quietly.

And to her own surprise, she realized she meant it.

Matilda’s hand remained lightly against Riley’s back, guiding her gently up the garden path toward the front door.

A white picket fence surrounded the small front yard. Flowerbeds lined the porch in uneven bursts of color, clearly maintained with actual care instead of obligation.

It was nicer than Riley’s family home had ever been.

Not bigger.

Just… loved.

Nobody back home had possessed much of a green thumb. Her mother had tried once when Riley was younger, planting herbs in cracked ceramic pots along the kitchen windowsill. Most of them had died within a month.

The memory surfaced strangely easily.

Then the front door opened.

Warm air drifted out immediately carrying something floral and sweet beneath the scent of cooked food and clean laundry.

Riley’s nose twitched slightly.

A wax melter sat plugged into the hallway wall nearby, pale pink wax slowly liquefying beneath the tiny heating dish.

Before she could properly think about it, Riley reached out curiously and dipped her fingertip into the melted wax.

Heat bloomed instantly against her skin.

Behind her, Matilda laughed softly.

“Lola does that too,” she said. “I’ll never understand why.”

Riley jerked her hand back quickly, embarrassed at herself now.

“It looked fun,” she muttered.

The wax had already begun cooling against her finger. She wiped it off hurriedly against her thigh, only for the soft pink clump to stick stubbornly just below her hip instead.

Matilda chuckled again.

“Silly girl.”

She bent slightly, fingers brushing lightly against Riley’s skin as she peeled the wax away with practiced ease.

The touch was casual.

Domestic.

Comfortably intimate in a way Riley still hadn’t fully adjusted to yet.

“If you want to feel hot wax,” Matilda said lightly, “all you need to do is ask.”

Heat rushed instantly into Riley’s face.

“Mom, don’t be gross.”

Lola appeared suddenly at Riley’s side before poking her directly on the cheek with wax-covered fingertips.

Riley yelped softly in surprise as something warm and sticky smeared across her skin.

Matilda sighed immediately.

“Lola.”

“What?” the girl laughed, already wiping excess wax onto the side of Riley’s shoulder before she could escape. “She started it.”

“I did not,” Riley protested weakly, though she was already laughing too.

The sound surprised her.

Real laughter.

Not the careful soft giggles encouraged during conditioning when handlers praised pleasant behavior.

This felt different.

Loose.

Natural.

Matilda shook her head as she shut the front door behind them.

“I have brought an Animal into this house,” she muttered dryly, “not another child.”

“You got both,” Lola answered instantly.

Riley tried to wipe the wax from her cheek only to spread it further across her skin instead.

That only made Lola laugh harder.

“Alright,” Matilda said. “Living room. I have a gift for you, Riley.”

The word hit Riley with embarrassing effectiveness.

Gift.

A small pulse of excitement fluttered instantly through her stomach before she could suppress it.

Animals did not own things.

That had been drilled into them repeatedly during conditioning. Beds belonged to households. Bowls belonged to households. Toys belonged to households.

Even collars belonged to households.

So the idea of receiving a gift — something chosen specifically for her — still carried an almost intoxicating warmth Riley had not quite learned how to resist yet.

She followed Matilda obediently into the living room alongside Lola.

The room itself looked soft in the way only genuinely lived-in places could. Blankets draped over the back of the sofa. Books stacked unevenly beside a chair. A half-finished mug abandoned on the coffee table beside a tablet device.

Home.

Lola immediately threw herself onto the couch with all the graceless force of a child who had done it a thousand times before.

Matilda, meanwhile, guided Riley gently toward the center of the room.

“Stay there for me.”

Riley obeyed immediately.

“I’ve always wanted a Companion of my own,” Matilda admitted as she crossed toward a cabinet near the wall. “When I was little, my nanny belonged to my parents.”

Riley listened quietly.

“I wanted the same thing for Lola,” Matilda continued, “but permits take forever these days. Especially for younger Companions.”

There was no resentment in her voice.

Only patience finally rewarded.

Matilda opened a small velvet-lined case resting atop the cabinet.

Then she turned back toward Riley holding something circular in both hands.

Metal.

Smooth.

Almost delicate-looking beneath the warm lighting.

For one confused second Riley thought it resembled jewelry.

Then realization hit her all at once.

The collar.

Her collar.

Riley’s breath caught instantly.

“Once I put this on you, you will be mine.”

Matilda approached her slowly as she spoke, the collar resting open between her hands.

Up close it looked less like restraint and more like jewelry. Silver metal polished to a soft shine beneath the living room lights, the inside lined with dark padded leather designed for comfort against bare skin.

Beautiful.

Riley couldn’t stop staring at it.

“I have very simple rules,” Matilda continued calmly. “If you follow them, you’ll be here for a very long time.”

The warmth in her voice had changed.

Not vanished.

But cooled.

The shift was immediate enough that Riley instinctively straightened where she stood in the center of the room. Her earlier laughter with Lola died quietly in her throat. Even the playful flicking of wax remnants against her thigh stopped without her consciously deciding to.

Matilda held the open collar loosely in both hands.

“Do not betray my trust.”

Riley swallowed.

“Do not disobey me willfully.”

The room felt strangely still now.

Even Lola had gone quiet on the sofa behind them.

“Do not attempt to escape.”

The final rule settled heavily into Riley’s chest because this time there was no softness cushioning the words. No teasing warmth. No affection.

Just certainty.

“If you break even one of those rules,” Matilda said evenly, “I will have you sent for processing.”

Riley’s posture tightened instantly.

The threat was real.

Not exaggerated.
Not emotional.
Not hypothetical.

Real.

And somehow that frightened her more than shouting would have.

Because Matilda sounded completely sincere.

Riley lowered her eyes automatically.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Matilda stepped closer until Riley could feel the warmth of her body standing directly in front of her.

“Swear to me,” she said softly, “that you will follow those rules.”

For one brief moment Riley thought about the Processing Center again.

The old metal doors.
The smell.
The silence after lights-out.
Animals disappearing and never returning.

Then she looked at the collar in Matilda’s hands.

Home.
Warmth.
Lola laughing beside her.
Hands stroking gently through her hair.
Someone waiting for her to come back if she left the room.

Belonging.

“I swear,” Riley whispered.

The answer came frighteningly easily.

Matilda studied her for another long moment.

Then her expression softened again.

“Good girl.”

The collar clicked softly shut around her neck.

The sound seemed far louder to Riley than it actually was.

Final.

Instinctively her hand rose almost at once, fingertips brushing against the cool metal circling her throat. It wasn’t loose the way she had imagined collars would be as a child. It rested close against her skin, snug without restricting, fitted with unsettling precision.

Like it had been made specifically for a girl her age.

Maybe it had.

Riley traced her fingers slowly along the smooth outer surface, feeling delicate engravings worked into the silver. Small flowering patterns curled around the band in elegant loops, decorative without becoming excessive.

Beautiful.

Near the front sat a small bronze plate fixed neatly into the metal.

Blank for now.

But not for long.

Her name would go there.

The realization sent something strange and heavy through her chest.

Not fear.

Something warmer.

Ownership made visible.

Matilda’s hand settled lightly atop Riley’s own where it rested against the collar.

“Comfortable?” she asked softly.

Riley nodded immediately.

“Yes.”

And she hated how relieved she sounded saying it.

Matilda’s smile softened instantly, chasing away the coldness that had settled over the room during the collaring.

Then suddenly a pair of arms wrapped tightly around Riley from behind.

Riley startled as Lola squeezed her enthusiastically, hands resting against her stomach.

“Welcome home!” Lola announced brightly.

The words hit Riley strangely hard.

Home.

Before she could properly process it, Lola was already tugging her toward the stairs.

“C’mon,” she said excitedly. “I’ll show you your room.”

Riley blinked.

“My room?”

Lola glanced back at her like the question itself was ridiculous.

“Yeah? Did you think you were gonna sleep on the floor?”

Riley shrugged one shoulder uncertainly.

“A little.”

That earned an immediate eye-roll.

“Mom says good owners give Companions their own space,” Lola informed her with the absolute certainty only children could possess. “Your room’s next to mine.”

Riley let herself be pulled upstairs.

The second floor smelled faintly of laundry detergent and the floral wax melting downstairs. Family photographs lined the hallway walls. School portraits. Vacation pictures. Lola missing front teeth in several of them.

Normal things.

Human things.

Riley found herself staring a little too long.

Lola finally stopped beside a plain white door near the end of the hallway.

Then she stepped aside dramatically.

“Open it.”

Riley hesitated.

Something nervous twisted in her stomach suddenly as she looked toward Lola for guidance, but the younger girl only watched her expectantly.

Permission.

Excitement.

Nothing else.

Slowly Riley reached for the handle and turned it.

The door opened inward with a soft creak.

The room beyond was simple.

But warm.

A neatly made bed rested against one wall beneath a small window framed by pale curtains. A bookshelf stood mostly empty beside a desk tucked into the corner. Soft lighting cast a golden glow across cream-colored walls. There was even a folded blanket laid neatly at the foot of the bed waiting for her.

It wasn’t luxurious.

But it was hers.

Or as close to hers as an Animal was allowed to possess.

And somehow that made Riley’s chest ache unexpectedly.

It reminded her vaguely of the renovated Companion cells back at the Processing Center. Comfortable enough to encourage attachment and stability. Soft beds. Warm lighting. Clean blankets.

But this didn’t feel institutional.

This felt lived in.

Riley stepped further into the room slowly, eyes moving across the neatly made bed, the bookshelf, the desk tucked into the corner beneath the window.

Then she noticed the marks on the wall beside the closet.

Thin black lines drawn upward year by year.

Height measurements.

Some crossed through.
Others dated carefully in fading marker.

And beside them, written repeatedly in uneven handwriting, was the same name.

Alex.

Riley stared for a moment before realizing the lines climbed too high to belong to Lola.

Behind her, Lola’s earlier excitement dimmed slightly.

“My brother Alex,” she said quietly. “He was converted five years ago.”

Riley turned toward her.

“This was his room.”

The words settled heavily into the warm little bedroom.

Not guest-room clean.

Preserved.

The desk.
The shelves.
Even the faint blue paint still visible beneath the newer cream walls near the radiator.

Pieces left behind by someone who had once lived there.

Riley looked back toward the height markings.

The last line sat only slightly taller than she was now.

“What happened to him?” she asked softly.

Lola shrugged, but it didn’t look careless.

“He got picked,” she answered. “Mom said he didn’t fight it.”

Processed.

The word hung unspoken between them anyway.

Riley’s throat tightened slightly.

She reached out without thinking, fingertips brushing lightly against one of the old marker lines.

Alex.

A boy had grown up in this room.
Slept here.
Laughed here.

And then one day he had walked willingly toward slaughter because that was what the System demanded of him.

The room suddenly felt warmer and sadder all at once.

“Am I really allowed to have all this?”

Riley spoke quietly as she looked around the room properly this time instead of simply glancing through it.

There were marks everywhere once she started noticing them.

Tiny dents in the wall where baseballs had clearly struck years ago. Scratches along the desk edge. A faded sticker half-peeled from the closet door.

Boxes sat shoved carefully beneath the bed.

Alex written across them in thick black marker.

The room didn’t feel staged for her.

It felt inherited.

Lola stepped closer again and took Riley’s hand, gentler this time than before. Her fingers were small and warm as they wrapped tightly around Riley’s own.

“This is your room now,” she said firmly.

Riley looked down at her.

“Alex has been dead for five years.”

The bluntness of it knocked the air strangely from Riley’s chest.

Not because it sounded cruel.

Because Lola said it like something she had already repeated to herself many times before.

“If you try to refuse it,” Lola continued, squeezing Riley’s hand once, “you’ll just make Mom sad.”

The younger girl looked genuinely serious now.

“Don’t make her sad.”

Riley’s eyes drifted slowly back across the room.

The preserved pieces of another child’s life still lingering quietly in corners.
The empty bookshelf waiting to be filled again.
The bed somebody else had once slept in before walking calmly toward Processing because the System asked him to.

And now she was standing here wearing his replacement around her throat.

The collar suddenly felt heavier.

Not uncomfortable.

Just real.

Riley swallowed once before nodding quietly.

“Okay,” she said.

Then, after a moment:

“I’ll take good care of it.”

Lola led Riley back downstairs still holding her hand the entire way.

The house felt different now.

Smaller somehow.

Not physically.

Just familiar already in little ways Riley hadn’t expected. The floral scent drifting up from downstairs. The creak in the staircase near the middle landing. The muffled sound of the television still running softly somewhere in the living room.

Matilda looked up from the sofa the moment they entered.

“Well?” she asked with a faint smile. “How do you like the room?”

Riley hesitated briefly before answering.

“It’s wonderful.”

And it was.

Not because it was large or luxurious.

Because somebody had wanted her to have it.

The thought still sat strangely in her chest.

Then guilt crept in almost immediately afterward.

“I…” Riley lowered her eyes slightly. “I’m sorry about Alex.”

For the first time since bringing her home, Matilda’s expression shifted into something older.

Not broken.

Just tired.

She leaned back slowly against the sofa cushions before answering.

“Don’t be.”

Her voice remained calm, though quieter now.

“He was a good boy.”

A small sad smile touched the corner of her mouth.

“And a perfect Animal.”

Lola climbed onto the sofa beside her mother automatically, leaning comfortably against her side.

Neither of them cried.

Neither looked angry.

Alex’s death sat inside the house the same way everything else did in this world:
accepted,
grieved,
normalized.

Riley stood silently in the middle of the living room, fingers brushing unconsciously against the collar around her throat.

And for the first time since arriving, she understood something clearly.

She had not simply been adopted into this family.

She had been chosen to fill an absence.

Riley hesitated beside the sofa for only a moment.

Then, instead of sitting beside Matilda, she carefully lowered herself onto the woman’s lap.

The movement felt strangely natural.

Matilda made a soft sound of surprise before immediately welcoming her there, one arm wrapping securely around Riley’s waist while the other pulled Lola closer against her side.

No hesitation.

No awkwardness.

Just warmth.

Riley slowly relaxed against her, resting her head against Matilda’s chest as the steady rhythm of her heartbeat settled beneath her ear.

The living room grew quiet after that.

Not empty.

Comfortable.

The television murmured softly somewhere nearby while evening light filtered through the curtains in long golden streaks across the carpet. Lola leaned heavily against Matilda’s shoulder, already distracted by something on her tablet again.

And Riley simply sat there breathing in the floral scent lingering on Matilda’s clothes while fingers stroked lazily through her hair.

One naked girl wearing a collar.

And the woman who had claimed her.

The thought should have frightened her.

Instead Riley closed her eyes slowly and let herself melt further into the warmth surrounding her.