Page 37

Iam yours to the very end. I will set this right, I promise. Huxley, my name is Huxley.I have the instinct to love her but I am hardwired to kill her.You are my pet, my little swallowtail.And then you will be mine.

The shadow man’s soft, hypnotic voice and the vivid memory that etched my brain of his eyes glowing against mine, gave me comfort as I stared out the window. The sun gently kissing my pale skin, soaking up whatever vitamins it had left to radiate before it set. My forehead created a hazy, sweaty mark where it rested on the thick glass, as did my hand. I had been there far too long, empty, thoughtlessly staring at literally nothing.

I stayed like this a while longer, watching the birds flutter for bugs, and the stars to slowly start sparkling. The sun shifted into stunning shades of orange, reds, and purples before it finally melted behind the pine tree horizon. And just like that, the darkness was reborn. You”ll be okay. You”ll be okay.

My throat narrowed and the waterworks jerked from my eyes for the millionth time. Because I knew for sure that Huxley was down there in the forest suffering some kind of wrath. Because of me. It was always at this time of day, that he struggled the most. Why hadn”t he come to see me? He knew I was here. He saved me. He fucking saved, me.

Flashes of memories burst through my mind, making me dizzy. I had been through so much in such little time. I nearly died because of him and on more than one occasion. Had I been left another second in that hell-bound cabin, I would have. No wonder I had a brain bleed, or was it being held upside down for too long the cause? I couldn”t be sure. But despite all that, I was still here, physically… for the most part. Mentally? No. I was not in a good way. Ruined. Fucking traumatised. And still very much absolutely clueless about what was next, all I had was the feeling of the blind leading the blind.

I shuffled slowly to the bathroom, swapping between bracing the wall for balance and managing to walk unassisted. I hadn’t been to the toilet since this morning when the maid removed my catheters. Today was the first time I was able to get up and stretch my legs since waking up. I took care of my business and the nurse peered her head around the corner. I rolled my eyes dramatically, the privacy here was non-existent.

The last time I checked I wasn”t a fucking paraplegic, I could still remember how to piss on my own. Which was another thing, I didn”t need to learn how to walk, talk, eat, sleep or anything. All things considered. The maid had said I”d had a brain bleed, but she had forgotten to mention I also had a fucking stroke. I really fucking should have died, I would be much better off dead than in the mess I was now.

“Sorry. Are you okay for a shower… while you’re in here?” She asked sweetly, but her voice was muffled out mostly by the noises in my head.

The medication she gives me was strong, so making conversation and focusing on more than one thing was hard. Especially when most of my thoughts were a vicious cycle of hallucinations, death, and vivid memories. But yes. I could use a shower... a long shower. I was sure that the stench from me was no better than the deathly impurities at the lake, but the maid had been good to me, cleaning me with a warm soapy cloth and keeping me as hygienic as possible.

“Yes please.” I said, though it was more of an autopiloted reply.

I tugged off the signature black silk robe and stood into the warm shower. Immediate relief hit me, feeling like my sins were washing away down the drain as the water softly rolled over my back. I glanced over at the robe on the floor, unconsciously huffing at the darned thing. I had been fortunate enough to of been gifted yesterday morning, nuzzled snug in a gift box with the tag embossed with the initial - H. Of course. Which meant he had been here. The maid never left my sight, not unless she was fetching meals, but the box had turned up while she was here. I was asleep, and I wished I hadn”t been.

I didn’t think he had been here at first because I couldn’t smell him. But the maid did keep a good fragrance burning, so maybe it had blocked out the smell. Besides, if he had been here, he would say something, I was sure of it. Or maybe he wouldn”t. I thought of all the things I could say to him. I hate you was the first that came to mind for what he had done to me. But that was a lie. Because regardless of everything he had done, I knew I could not live without him. And I knew I could never live with him.

We would never be compatible. Because he would spend every second of every day, fighting to not kill me. Our life was not, nor would it ever be,the way I had imagined it would be in my dreams. There would be no wedding, no romance in the garden, no ring on my finger, no smiles, and no happily ever after. So no matter what angle I wrack my brain, or how long I torment myself doing so… he is, and always be, a monster.He will always hunt me. He will always love to hate me. He will always hate to love me. He is, and always will be a monster. My monster. My shadow.If I can’t live with him and I can’t live without him. Then I will die for him.

That was what I told myself, over and over again. I tried to hold my tears back but out of my control I heaved into the most depressing fit of sobs I had felt in my entire life. Whimpering and howling, crumbling like pastry as the warm water penetrated my skin. I hated this, I hated this so much. It took me too long to realise that I was screaming. Loud, and hard. And the maid stood by watching sympathetically as though it were either a regular occurrence or something she expected.

Every howl from my lungs brought a new haven, I leaned into the bellows more, and let my body revolt this new wave of sensations as it healed me in ways that I couldn’t understand. I roared until dizziness won me over and clouded my vision. I sat down on the plastic chair in the shower, letting myself catch my breath and balance. And then I realised, that this was my trauma response.

“Thankyou.” I mouthed to the maid. She knew I needed that.

“I’ll just hook you up again if you don”t mind. Only for a moment, then you can go back in.” She said, and then dried my finger and placed the little clip onto it.

The monitor showed I was steady, which was crazy considering how intense those screams were. If my heart went too much off rhythm, I guessed I would maybe have another stroke. I didn”t know how it all worked exactly, but she blew a sigh of relief like her life was dependent on mine, and then released my hand. I frowned but swapped it for a genuine smile.

As much as I hated being a prisoner again, I was somewhat thankful that I at least was not imprisoned alone, or getting sexually devoured. I could just be me, in my own space… kind of. The maid didn’t speak much, but the company was nice. She had told me her name was Stephanie, and that she was Soren’s wife. I wondered briefly who the maid before her was, the one that inevitably got sacked for letting me escape. I didn’t ask, truth be told I didn’t actually care enough, but the conversation was nice. Though, I didn”t think I had moved from that window all day today. Granted, it had only been three days since I woke up from my coma, but holy hell did it feel like a lifetime.

“Can I have a minute?” I pleaded with every inch of sadness that riddled me, just wanting to sit on the chair and engulf myself under the water a while longer.

She nodded and stood back watching my every breath, and occasionally peering at the watch around her wrist, counting my chest rises and falls. I stared off into the abyss… at absolutely nothing but the wall and a spec of air. I let my mind drift, and let every thought only of him. The echoes of his beautiful piano melodies sang in my mind, getting me through another day without seeing him, feeling him, smelling him, hearing him, or tasting him. I mindlessly drew my tongue over my lips, as if I would taste him on mine. But, only the cracked skin sensation and unbrushed teeth was what came back at me.

By the time I had finished with my shower, exhaustion laid into me heavily and I staggered back to bed. Falling into a nightmare-filled sleep. Only seeing, feeling, smelling and hearing that fucking voice… the void. Fuck her. She was hard to tune out, but when you”re in your most unconscious state of asleep but awake in your dreams, you simply could not omit her. She always managed to find a way to bury herself into your mind, as though she had the ability to control your thoughts and make you believe things that were not real. Promise you things that would never happen.

The void was a lethal, manipulating bitch, but I knew the way Huxley truly felt about me, regardless of what she said. No matter how many times she said it, I couldn”t believe her. ‘He will never love you. I can make it all go away.” The way she howled those words in my brain was like the chill of a thousand swords piercing through a single rose. I didn”t stand a chance against her… I have to succumb to her. She will make it all go away. You”ll be okay. You”ll be okay. I had to keep telling myself that.

I woke early, long before the sun did with a dire need for water. I felt as though I had not slept in months. No thanks to the fucking voices getting louder. I was going to need stronger medication if sleeping was going to become a nightmare. I staggered to the bathroom to fill a cup of water. I gasped and dropped the glass into the sink from the terrorizing visual. The mirror was broken… held together by tape. This wasn”t there earlier. How did it break?

I craned my neck around in a panic, seeing the maid was still in a fitful sleep. I turned back, noting there was blood smeared all over the mirror, and some dripping from the sharp edges… it looked like a punch mark. I frowned, trying to make sense of it, and how it got there, and why. I leaned in closer and the waterworks trickled from my eyes. My heart wrenched seeing faded streaks of black paint, realizing it had been Huxley. Why was he here? Why did he punch the mirror? Was he okay? Was I okay?

My head twisted into thought, how was he here without me hearing him? The possibility of him fighting an invisible war with the void sent me into a shudder of woe, only adding to my tears that started as just a trickle.

But the mirror wasn”t the only broken thing in my line of sight. It was also my reflection. One I wished I hadn”t looked at. Was that really me? I didn”t recognize myself. I hadn”t seen myself since who knows when, a long time ago… when I tried to escape maybe, the reflection in the car? No. That’s not me. I couldn’t tell you who she was.

I was a bag of bones. How much weight had I lost? I couldn”t tell you, but I was the weakest and palest I had ever seen me be. I ran my finger over the purple scars on either side of my cheeks, trailing the memories of the pain like it was yesterday. My eyes wandered over my body, taking in and absorbing the mess I truly was. I had been minced like a serrated pork rind, carved and ready for a meal. I barely had any skin that was left unscathed. Every scar, every cut, every wound, the stab, the stroke, the burn, the brain bleed, the markings on my womanhood, the sexual trauma, the glass shatters on my feet… everything had a fucking story to tell. My body was a notebook. There was no coming back from this. You”ll be okay. No… I won”t be.

Through my sobs I blew out a heavy blow of air against one of the biggest pieces of the mirror that was not broken, leaving a streak of fog from my breath. I scribbled thoughtlessly on it with my fingertip, not really comprehending what I was writing.

Are you okay?

I fell into yet another heavy sob. I needed him. I needed to avenge. The heaviness hounded me and I scurried back to my bed, cradling my pillow, and cried myself back to sleep.

“This is beautiful Esme.” Stephanie praised with a grin of the Cheshire cat.

She was sweeping her finger over one of my drawings in her hand. “Thanks.” I muffled a blunt reply, chewing on a buttered dinner roll. I chuckled at the mess I was making, but it quickly silenced. Happiness was short-lived here, and I wasn”t one for small talk anymore. It was too draining.

I didn”t need to speak often, having only a few words to say it was better to just keep my mouth shut. How could I speak when I had a million words in my head that weren”t mine? I couldn”t hear my own, not over hers. But, the sense of peace and hints of normality that drawing was giving me, was better than I could have ever anticipated. I didn”t know I could draw. It felt nice. And I welcomed it like I would a newborn child.

“I take it you like butterflies?” She asked.

”I”ve never really taken much notice of them before, but they are beautiful.” I confessed.

”You should study to be an artist. You have a knack for it.”

My brow furrowed. Study… I was certain I had been to college before. But I couldn”t piece down the rest of it, like a story with blank pages. But I do remember that Stephanie had said the loss of memory was normal.

I tried to hide the sadness I was showing, surrendering to being part vegetable. I could barely walk, I stagger. I could barely talk a full sentence. And I could only make out some of my past. I didn’t want to feel sad anymore. And I certainly shouldn’t be now. I had been given a brand new stack of Faber Castell colored pencils, and a sketch pad to draw in. I was even given a pair of earphones and an MP3 player to listen to music on.

Albeit the thing was ancient… but Beethoven, Schumann, Mozart, and Shubert were hit favorites of mine to keep me company as my pencils somewhat put my mind at ease. At least the music was louder than her. I assumed this device belonged to Huxley, given that it was engraved with the letter H on the back. He clearly has good taste in music, and I could see where his influence was from. All in all, drawing tired me. My energy was usually quickly diminished anyhow but far worse after drawing or reading. I even had an afternoon nap earlier. I remember I had fallen asleep to Mozart, thankfully I woke not long before dinner. I had stuffed my face well, leaving nothing but a crumb from my roll.

The sun was about to set again, though the sky wasn’t as pretty as the last few nights. Tonight’s sky was only orange… and gloomy. There was a storm coming in. A smile turned but lip, but didn”t reach my eyes. I loved thunderstorms. Lightning flashes, rain, and crashing vibrations were the most beautiful of natural disasters. I brushed the crumbs off me and moseyed to the window, finding a nice spot to lean on and watch the border between day and night recede.

Grumbles of thunder cracked in the distance, sending a vibrational tone up my spine. It was electric and exciting. But it wasn’t dark enough yet to see the full effects from the flickers of lightning. I watched for a while, before needing to sit back down again.

“Stephanie?” I asked. “Yes, Esme?”

I decided that the tug that I was experiencing had gone on long enough. There was something aching, and not something that medication would cure. I knew that I needed a shower. Alone.

“Can I have a shower? Alone?” I pleaded softly. I hadn’t been able to have a minute by myself, not even to take care of my defecation needs. She hesitated a while, but an insincere smile broke through her pursed lips.

“Fine. But you yell for me if you need me, ok?” Stephanie commanded. I nodded, but she stood her ground.

“Okay?” her voice was stern.

“Okay. I promise.” I held my hands up in submission, whatever it would take to shut her up and let me get in there alone. She rolled her eyes and went back to reading her book.

In through the slit and swirl the little bud.I sat on the chair as my breath hitched, pleasure hit me in the pit of my belly like the thunderclaps outside. How was this little sensitive button… so sensitive? I thought of Huxley and his miraculous pierced length in every orifice. Circling to each delicious thought of him… how he stroked himself in the surveillance room, to footage of me. My temperature rose instantly and my cheeks flushed from the memory of my first orgasm. It was so wrong, but fuck it was hot. My climax was now on the edge and in four swirls of my clit I came undone like I was a wound-up thread on a bobbin.

I caught my breath and found myself again, completely ignoring the pummels happening in my head. The ecstasy was worth the pain. I figured if I had another stroke, it would at least be during an orgasm. I rolled my hips with the rhythm of my touch and found my breast with the other hand, coaxing another sensation to ripple over me. My blood was pounding through my head as it rushed to my pussy, my clit swelled from the thought of him inside me, fucking me hard without mercy. I stopped suddenly, seeing that the showerhead was removable. Curiosity sparked the better of me and I pulled it down, then turned the heat low. I sat back down, propping my foot up against the wall of the shower, and held the waters pressure toward my clit.

Fuck.

I had been sleeping on a gold mine for twenty-one fucking years. This was incredible. I was sure there were far better words than that, but I was burning up and short-circuiting. The flickers of the water vibrated the sweet spot and I fell apart again. Stars circled my head and my belly warmed to the sensation. I felt satisfied, but only by a pinch. I tried for another orgasm but the pleasure wasn”t being transferred from my clit to my brain, it was just empty strums of my fingers. There was still an emptiness. A missing part of the puzzle.

I knew no matter how many orgasms I had or tried to have. It wasn”t him.

I needed him.

I scoffed, giving up entirely on the cum fairies. I switched off the shower and grabbed my toothbrush. If I blew my warm breath over the mirror you could still see the words that I had written. I asked myself if I was okay… I wasn’t. But that was for a different reason than the last time that I asked. I hated this mirror… because I hated what looked back at me. I leaned forward to spit out the contents of minty foam and bubbles, suddenly gagging for a breath at the sight of what was in the bottom of the sink. Blood, and something else I couldn’t put the thought to. Skin?

I examined my body for injuries in a panic, I was completely intact… the flesh wasn”t mine. My stomach churned, I could taste my dinner surfacing. I shrieked in my head, but my mouth stayed shut. The sink was filled with clots of blood, and flesh. And right on the edges… were two black smudged handprints.

I choked on the inhale of panicked air as I limped my way to the window. Was he here? How did he get in again without me knowing? Without Stephanie knowing? There was nothing outside, other than bolts of lightning and rumbles of thunder. I craned my head around, Stephanie was still reading a book, and was now listening to the music player. Stuck in her own world, and thankfully not up my ass for once.

I gave up on the idea of where he could be, tiring out from my orgasms, and shuffled back to my bed. I opened up the bedside draw, fetching the drawing pad and pencils to draw what I had in my head. My heart froze for a moment, before slowing only slightly, seeing that there was a note… left in blood and black paint streaks.I am broken.I am incapable of love.It”s too late for me.

My shadow was hurting. The void was killing him… like she said she would.

I needed to get the fuck out of here… and find him. I needed to end this.