Page 24 of Beautiful Nightmare
Reaching into his pant pocket, Prince pulls out a string of black beads. Confused, I wait. This man does nothing at random; everything is always carefully plotted with purpose. Instead of turning away and returning his focus to Agatha, who is still floating in the living room, his hand moves rapidly. Sizzle and smoke follow.
Beckham screams in agony. His eyes squeezeshut while his body twitches, trying to break free from the hold Prince has over him.
As Prince’s hand falls back, the clear imprint of a crucifix is etched into Beckham’s face.
The skin is blistering and bright red, and it doesn’t fucking end.
Prince has a rosary in his hands, and he will use it until it’s no longer fun.
Slamming my feet into the wooden door of the cold storage, I can’t sit and watch this any further. He is torturing us both and reveling in it.
I am not a strong person, physically and mentally, most of the time, so with one hard kick, the door doesn’t fly off. Repeatedly, I use all my might. The lock jingles while the hinges creak.
“Baby, I’m coming. I promise,” I murmur to myself with each strike.
Breathlessly, my chest heaves, and my mouth becomes parched. My brain is losing the will to continue this tedious task, but my body and heart will not give up on him.
With each kick of my boot, I hear parts of the hinge rattling. And I hope it’s been poorly screwed in and is on the verge of popping off.
A thunderous roar erupts from me. Giving it my fucking all, I muster every ounce of energy I can findin my final attempt at escape. My feet surge forward as the screws of the thin metal hinge fly off and the door swings open.
Coughing, my throat is dry, but I attempt to catch my breath.
Meanwhile, Prince’s head turns. He’s heard me.
Excitement turns to dread.
In one brisk movement, I roll over onto my stomach, my nose brushing against the dusty, cool floor. I hold my breath to stop a sneeze, then push myself up into a squat before gripping the edge above me and hoisting my frail, aching body up.
With my eyes still forced closed, I use my hands to feel around the room I am currently standing in, and my worst worry is falling ass over feet back into that fucking hole. Therefore, standing is not an option. Sliding my feet in short spurts is the only way. My heart beats rapidly under my chest as time is racing against me.
Then, Beckham’s burning face returns before me. You can no longer tell it’s a crucifix destroying him; it’s all blending into one large wound.
“Take me. Hurt me. Hate me!” I scream. “Let me take his pain, please!”
Prince’s head whips around, his deranged eyes looking back at me. “Never.”
If he can hear me, he knows I’m coming and won’t be able to stop me.
Nothing with him is easy.
Dread falls over me because I know it’s only going to get worse.
My hands find the single doorknob, and I attempt to turn it, but it doesn’t budge. He has me locked in.
Adrenaline begins to take over. I am so close.
Putting all my momentum behind it, I slam my body into the door separating us.
Prince drops the rosary at the exact same time, and it slowly falls to his feet.
I slam my body once more.
With shrugging shoulders, he casually says, “Fuck it.”
Confused, I pause and watch.
Prince hops down the steps and saunters over to the record player.