Chapter Five: Useful

The party began thinning out slowly after the food was served.

Lanterns still swayed gently overhead beneath the cold autumn wind, but the sharp excitement of Halloween had softened into something quieter now. Tired children dragged candy buckets behind them across the grass while adults lingered around folding tables nursing the last of their drinks.

The smell had changed too.

Earlier the yard carried charcoal smoke and sweet cider and cheap candy.

Now it smelled mostly like grease.

Cooked meat.
Beer.
Wet leaves.

Riley moved quietly between the tables gathering discarded paper plates into a large black trash bag clutched against her hip.

Nobody had told her to help clean.

That almost made it feel more important.

A man sitting near the firepit passed her his empty plastic cup without even looking up from his conversation. His fingers brushed lazily along her wrist as he let go.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Riley lowered her eyes automatically.

“You’re welcome.”

Another guest stopped her near the patio steps long enough to smear leftover frosting from his thumb onto the tip of her nose with a drunken laugh.

“There,” he announced proudly. “Now you match the cupcakes.”

The adults around him chuckled softly.

Riley smiled because she was supposed to.

Warm fingers briefly squeezed her hip as she moved past the table again a few minutes later.

Someone scratched lightly beneath her chin while thanking her for collecting plates.

Another hand lingered slightly too long against the curve of her backside while squeezing past near the grill.

None of it shocked her anymore.

Not really.

Alcohol blurred boundaries for Humans the same way conditioning erased them for Animals. People became softer with touch after enough drinks. More casual. More entitled.

Riley simply accepted it all with lowered eyes and quiet politeness while the trash bag slowly filled against her side.

Good girl.

Useful girl.

The words drifted constantly through her head now even when nobody spoke them aloud.

Near the firepit, volunteers from the neighborhood had begun portioning out the remaining meat into sealed containers for distribution.

Most of it went to Lisa’s family.

Riley watched quietly from across the yard while aluminum trays disappeared into insulated coolers one after another beneath the lanternlight.

Nobody treated it strangely.

Nobody cried.

Lisa’s mother even smiled while accepting one of the containers from a neighbor.

Proud.

Grateful.

Normal.

The wooden burial box rested separately atop one of the patio tables near the back door.

Closed.

Polished dark oak.

Small enough to carry comfortably in both hands.

Riley knew exactly what sat inside it.

The thought made something twist low in her stomach every time she looked toward it.

Her head.

Preserved carefully for burial instead of public display.

An honor.

That was how everyone here seemed to view it.

Riley tied off the full trash bag and carried it toward the bins near the side fence.

The backyard had grown quieter now.

Music still drifted softly from the speakers near the house, but most conversations had lowered into tired murmurs beneath the crackling fire.

The spit above the coals stood empty now.

Cleaned.

Only dark grease stains remained beneath it in the dirt.

Riley slowed near the oak tree at the edge of the yard.

The rope still hung there.

Empty.

Swaying faintly in the cold wind.

For a moment she simply stared at it.

Then her fingers rose unconsciously toward the collar around her throat.

Cool metal beneath warm skin.

Her own pulse fluttered faintly against her fingertips.

Lisa had stood there earlier smiling beneath the lanternlight while neighbors praised her bravery.

And now pieces of her sat wrapped carefully inside coolers while her head rested quietly inside a wooden box waiting to be buried.

Useful.

Valuable.

Wanted.

Riley’s eyes drifted slowly upward toward the hanging noose.

She imagined it tightening around her own throat.

Her feet leaving the ground.

Body twisting slowly above the yard while smoke drifted upward through the cold autumn air.

Would they praise her too?

Would Matilda stand beneath the tree looking proud?

The thought should have horrified her.

Instead it settled somewhere deep and aching inside her chest.

Because Lisa had given something important tonight.

And Riley suddenly wasn’t sure what she gave anyone at all.

A soft hand settled suddenly against the middle of her back.

Riley startled hard enough to nearly jump.

“There you are.”

Matilda’s voice.

Warm.
Close.

Riley lowered her hand immediately from the collar.

“Sorry,” she murmured automatically. “I was cleaning.”

Matilda’s eyes flicked once toward the rope still swaying gently overhead.

Then back to Riley.

Something quieter settled into her expression almost immediately.

Not anger.

Recognition.

“You’ve been working all night,” Matilda said softly.

Riley shrugged weakly.

“I wanted to help.”

“You already did.”

The answer came without hesitation.

Matilda stepped closer beside her beneath the oak tree, one arm sliding slowly around Riley’s waist while cold wind stirred fallen leaves around their bare feet.

Riley melted into the contact before she could stop herself.

Across the yard laughter rose softly from the remaining guests while lanternlight flickered warmly through the dark.

And above them, the empty noose swayed gently in the autumn wind.

“Would you like to watch me hang?” Riley asked absently.

The question drifted into the cold air so casually it almost sounded like she was asking whether Matilda wanted more cider.

“Not right now or anything,” she added quietly a second later. “Not unless you want me to.”

Matilda’s hands stilled instantly against her waist.

The slow affectionate stroking stopped.

For a moment neither of them moved beneath the oak tree.

Lanternlight flickered softly across the yard while laughter drifted faintly from the remaining guests near the firepit. Somewhere behind them someone dropped a bottle into a recycling bin with a hollow clatter.

Riley kept staring upward at the empty noose swaying gently overhead.

“I already told you earlier,” Matilda said at last. Her voice remained calm, though quieter now. “I plan on keeping you for a long time.”

Riley nodded faintly.

“But it would excite you, right?”

The words came out thoughtful instead of accusatory.

Curious.

Like she was trying to understand something important.

Matilda fell silent again.

Riley felt the warmth of her body behind her. The stillness in her hands. The slight tightening of her fingers where they rested against Riley’s stomach.

Finally:

“It would,” Matilda admitted softly. “If it was my decision.”

Riley’s breath caught slightly.

Not because of the answer.

Because of how honest it sounded.

She lowered her eyes toward the grass.

“Oh.”

The noose creaked quietly overhead as the wind shifted.

Matilda rested her chin briefly against Riley’s hair before continuing.

“There’s a difference between loss and ownership.”

Riley frowned faintly.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know.” Matilda’s fingers resumed moving slowly against her waist again. “That’s because nobody explained it to you properly.”

The warmth returned little by little with the touch.

Steady.
Grounding.

“When Lisa volunteered tonight, she belonged to the System.” Matilda spoke gently, carefully. “People admired her because sacrifice is admirable. But she wasn’t ours.”

Riley listened silently.

Matilda’s arms tightened slightly around her from behind.

“You are.”

The words settled heavily into Riley’s chest.

“You’re my Companion. My responsibility. My girl.” Her lips brushed lightly against Riley’s temple. “That changes things.”

Riley stared at the rope above them.

“Would you still think I looked pretty?”

Matilda actually laughed softly at that.

Such a strange question.

Such a Riley question.

“I think you’d look beautiful doing almost anything,” she murmured warmly. “But that doesn’t mean I want to bury you.”

Heat crept faintly into Riley’s face despite herself.

The answer soothed something aching inside her while simultaneously making the tightness worse.

Because part of her still couldn’t stop comparing herself to Lisa.

One girl had fed an entire neighborhood.

The other carried trash bags and accepted pats on the head.

Useful.

But not important.

Matilda seemed to sense the direction of her thoughts immediately.

“You’re doing it again,” she murmured.

Riley stiffened slightly.

“Doing what?”

“Trying to measure your worth by how much of yourself you can give away.”

The words struck hard enough Riley went still.

Matilda sighed softly against her hair.

“Sweetheart, Companions are not disposable livestock.”

Riley looked up at that automatically.

Confusion flickered visibly across her face.

Because somewhere deep down, she wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

Matilda noticed.

Of course she noticed.

“Oh, pet,” she whispered quietly.

One hand slipped upward beneath Riley’s chin, turning her gently away from the tree and back toward the warmth of the yard instead.

Toward the lanterns.
Toward the fire.
Toward home.

“I think your trainers taught you how to serve,” Matilda said softly. “But not how to be loved.”

Riley spent hours with that thought, turning it over and over in her head until the party finally ended and Matilda sent her upstairs.

That night Riley couldn’t sleep.

The house had gone quiet hours ago.

Pipes creaked softly somewhere inside the walls while cold wind brushed faintly against the outside of the windows. From down the hallway came the muffled sound of Lola shifting occasionally in her bed before settling again into heavy sleep.

Riley lay awake staring at the ceiling.

The collar around her throat felt unusually noticeable tonight.

Not uncomfortable.

Just present.

Her fingertips drifted slowly across the engraved metal while her thoughts circled endlessly back toward the oak tree outside.

Useful.

The word sat heavily inside Riley’s chest.

But beneath it now lingered something else too.

Matilda’s hands.

Riley squeezed her eyes shut briefly.

After the guests had finally gone home, Matilda had stayed outside with her in the empty garden beneath the lanternlight.

Not talking much.

Just touching her.

Slow absent strokes across Riley’s stomach while they sat together near the dying fire. Fingers tracing lazily along her hips. Gentle hands smoothing over her thighs whenever Riley’s thoughts drifted somewhere dark again.

At one point Matilda had pulled her quietly between her knees while seated in the patio chair behind her, arms loosely wrapped around Riley’s waist while fingertips wandered softly over her body beneath the cold autumn air.

Not demanding.

Not sexual exactly.

Just… possessive.

Comforting.

Riley hated how much it had helped.

Every touch seemed to pull her slightly further away from the image of the hanging rope waiting beneath the oak tree. Not erasing the guilt exactly.

Just quieting it.

Like Matilda’s hands gave her something else to focus on.

Belonging.
Warmth.
Being wanted.

And Riley had leaned into it shamefully fast.

She remembered the way Matilda’s fingertips had drifted slowly across the underside of her breast while speaking softly about completely ordinary things. The neighborhood children. Lola stealing too much candy. Whether rain would ruin the decorations by morning.

Riley barely listened to the conversation. Her attention kept drifting back to the simple fact that Matilda hadn't stopped touching her.

Every gentle stroke seemed to quiet the thoughts she couldn't escape on her own.

Matilda never pushed further.

That almost made it worse.

Because Riley realized somewhere during the quiet darkness of the garden that she wanted her to.

The thought made heat creep slowly into her face against the pillow now.

Not because it felt dirty.

Because it felt relieving.

Her training sat too deep inside her now to separate comfort from service cleanly anymore. A Companion soothed emotional distress. A Companion provided warmth. Physical affection. Intimacy.

Body and soul.

Riley rolled slowly onto her side beneath the blankets.

Would it make Matilda happy?

The question settled softly into the darkness beside her.

Not the hanging.

The other thing.

If Riley climbed into her bed right now and offered herself properly, would Matilda smile at her that warm proud way she did whenever Riley behaved correctly?

Would she stroke her hair afterward and call her a good girl?

The thoughts made guilt twist together with something embarrassingly close to longing.

And Riley…

Riley just wanted to belong to someone so completely that she never had to wonder whether she deserved to stay.

Riley climbed quietly out of bed.

Moonlight spilled pale silver across the bedroom floor, tracing soft shadows along her body as she stood. At thirteen she still looked unfinished somehow. Limbs a little too long. Hips only beginning to round. The faint swell of her chest casting delicate shadows across her ribs beneath the cold light from the window.

Young.

Still growing.

The collar around her throat gleamed softly as she moved toward the door.

The house felt impossibly quiet at this hour.

Floorboards creaked faintly beneath her bare feet while she stepped into the hallway, pausing automatically outside Lola’s room first. The younger girl had collapsed sideways across the blankets hours earlier still clutching part of her candy haul against her chest.

Riley smiled faintly.

Then she continued down the hallway.

Matilda’s bedroom door stood slightly open already, warm amber light spilling softly through the narrow gap and across the dark carpet outside.

Riley hesitated there.

Butterflies twisted violently inside her stomach now.

Nervousness.
Embarrassment.
Anticipation.

But beneath all of it sat something heavier.

Purpose.

Companions served body and soul.

The phrase echoed quietly through her head while she pushed the bedroom door open.

A lamp beside the bed provided the only light inside the room. Soft golden shadows stretched across the walls while rain tapped faintly against the windows somewhere beyond the curtains.

Matilda sat propped comfortably beneath the blankets with a book resting open against her lap. Reading glasses perched low along her nose.

She looked up immediately.

“Riley?”

Warm surprise softened her voice instantly.

Welcoming.

Riley didn’t answer.

Instead she stepped quietly closer before climbing carefully onto the mattress, the blankets dipping softly beneath her weight as she crawled forward on hands and knees toward the older woman.

Matilda stayed perfectly still watching her.

The book lowered slowly onto the covers beside her.

Understanding arrived almost immediately afterward.

Riley saw the exact moment it happened in her eyes.

Not shock.

Recognition.

“Oh, pet.”

The words came out quiet.

Gentle.

Riley stopped close enough for Matilda to touch her now, moonlight and lamplight mingling softly across bare skin while her pulse hammered violently inside her chest.

Matilda studied her carefully for several long seconds.

“Are you sure?” she asked softly.

Riley nodded.

“I am.”

Something softened in Matilda's expression.

Then she lifted the blankets beside her and patted the empty space warmly.

“Just sleep beside me for now. That would make me happy.”

Riley blinked.

For a moment she simply stared at her.

Because somehow that answer felt harder to process than rejection would have.

No instructions.
No demands.
No expectation for her to perform correctly.

Just warmth.

Matilda waited patiently while Riley’s thoughts visibly tangled behind her eyes.

Then finally Riley slipped beneath the blankets beside her.

The bed felt warm immediately.

Safe.

Matilda turned off the lamp afterward, plunging the room into soft moonlit darkness before settling back against the pillows beside her.

For a few quiet seconds neither of them spoke.

Then Matilda’s arm opened silently beside her.

Invitation.


Riley settled carefully against her.

The movement felt almost embarrassingly easy.

One second she was hesitating beneath the blankets, uncertain where to put her hands or how much space she was allowed to occupy.

The next she was tucked comfortably against Matilda's side while one arm rested loosely around her shoulders.

Warm.

The realization hit harder than it should have.

Not the temperature.

The feeling.

Safe.

Matilda's hand moved slowly through her hair, untangling strands without any real purpose beyond touching her.

There was nothing Riley needed to do.

No instructions followed.

No expectations.

The hand simply remained there.

Stroke after stroke.

Gentle.

Patient.

Riley listened to the steady rhythm of Matilda's breathing in the darkness.

The house had gone completely still around them.

No guests.
No lanterns.
No music.

Just this.

For a long time neither of them spoke.

Riley found herself waiting anyway.

Waiting for some task.
Some correction.
Some reason she had been invited here.

Eventually she couldn't stop herself.

"Ma'am?"

A sleepy hum answered her.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

Riley swallowed.

Then immediately felt foolish.

The question sounded childish even inside her own head.

Still, she asked it.

"Do I need to do anything?"

The hand in her hair paused.

Only for a moment.

Then it resumed.

Slow.

Steady.

"No."

The answer came so easily.

As though the idea itself was strange.

Riley stared into the darkness.

"Oh."

Matilda shifted slightly beside her.

The mattress dipped softly beneath the movement.

"You look after Lola."

A kiss brushed lightly against the top of Riley's head.

"You help around the house."

Another slow stroke through her hair.

"You make me laugh."

Riley felt her throat tighten unexpectedly.

"And you're very sweet."

The words settled heavily inside her chest.

Because they sounded like reasons.

Not duties.

Reasons.

Things Matilda liked about her.

Not things Riley produced.

Not things Riley accomplished.

Her.

The distinction felt impossibly important.

"I don't mean right now," Riley whispered.

Matilda was quiet for a second.

Then she sighed softly.

Understanding.

"Oh, pet."

The hand left Riley's hair long enough to cup her cheek.

Warm fingers.

Gentle pressure.

Turning Riley's face upward slightly despite the darkness.

"You never need to earn being loved when we're alone."

The words landed with almost physical force.

Riley stopped breathing for a moment.

Because some part of her had been trying to do exactly that since the day she'd arrived.

Earning meals.

Earning praise.

Earning her room.

Earning safety.

Earning tomorrow.

Matilda's thumb brushed lightly across her cheek.

"You belong here before you've done a single thing."

The room went quiet again.

Riley curled a little closer without consciously deciding to.

Matilda welcomed the movement immediately.

One arm tightening around her.

No hesitation.

No conditions.

No transaction.

Just warmth.

The kind that asked for nothing back.

And lying there in the darkness, listening to the steady beat of Matilda's heart beneath her ear, Riley felt something inside her loosen for the first time all night.

The guilt wasn't gone.

The questions weren't gone.

Lisa was still dead.

The world was still the world.

But for a little while, none of that mattered.

Because nobody was asking anything from her.

Nobody needed her to perform.

Nobody expected her to prove she deserved the space she occupied.

She was simply allowed to exist.

And somehow that felt far more frightening—and far more comforting—than any task ever had.