I know he's right.
I grew up in this industry. I've seen how toxic it can be, rotting from the inside out...
Just like me.
11
Amber
The pain has receded, but I'm still alone. Parker still doesn't come, and I spend most of my time in the dark by myself, still unable to feel, unable to speak, and unable to fight.
Someone comes to me over and over. I don't think it's Eric. They're too gentle, too...kind.
I hear them speaking, whispering, and moaning. I hear him call me a good girl, a treasure, a little doll. His voice isn't familiar, but it's somehow soothing. Even though I know what he's doing to me, using me like a ragdoll, I appreciate his presence. His presence seems to be keeping my other monsters at bay, and if Parker won't visit anymore, at least I am not alone.
Most of the time, I can't really feel what he's doing to me. I can't open my eyes to see it, either, but I can hear how much pleasure I'm giving him. I can hear how much he desires me.
And sometimes, I feel like I'm on fire, like my body is doused in kerosene and someone needs to drown me in ice water to cool me. I can feel my body reacting to the fever, the gasps as shivers rack my body, the sweat dripping on my skin as the flames lick at my belly, and the strange sensation like a balloon expanding inside of me, taking my breath away before it all comes to a head, bubbles over, and explodes.
I don't know how I got here or how long I'll be here. I can't remember if I died; it sort of feels like I did. But if I died, this isn't what I'd call heaven, and it's certainly not hell. It's a weird limbo, floating between the two, somewhere between life and death.
Most of the moments are peaceful.
There's nothing. Quiet, empty, safe.
Until he comes.
When I feel myself stirring from the nothingness, I don't hate it the way I hated Eric coming to me. Part of me even thinks I enjoy his visits, waking me from the abyss to tell me how greatly he adores me, to find pleasure in my body, to remind me I'm not alone forever. I don't know where he goes in between. Sometimes I think he's left only to hear him speak.
Most of the time, his words are airy, clouded by the fog of whatever happened to me, but it doesn't matter. The words that do make it through are gentle enough that I'm content to let the rest fade, to take it for granted that they're not for me.
I can't tell anything of time or how often he visits me, dragging me from the depths of my darkness into the dusky twilight his presence brings.
All I know is that with it comes a certain sense of peace... a peace unlike any I've ever known.
12
Cal
I've researched for this occasion, sure to be deliberate and methodical. I don't want to fuck this up.
When I ease back on the dosage, I watch the signs of life come to her delicate skin. It starts with the fluttering of her eyelashes, the quivering of her lips.
When her fingers twitch, I curl mine around them and give them a squeeze.
“You're safe, little doll.” I promise her.
And whether she is foolish enough to believe me or her brain pulls her under again, she surrenders to the tide of her exhaustion, the drug that's trying to drag her into unconsciousness.
It's a twilight sleep.
She can feel everything, but she can't react of her own free will. I'm not sure there's even anything going on in her pretty little head, if she's aware of her surroundings, if she knows that I am hereverything.
Maybe she's lost in a dream.
I don't particularly care where her mind is, because she belongs to me, body and soul.
I don't enjoy fucking her with all the wires everywhere, so I've learned to disconnect them, leaving the tubes inserted and a port open so that I can regain access easily. I got the tough work out of the way once, and maintenance has been incredibly easy.
