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Even the strongest flowers are still delicate. And I’ve broken her. I’ve plucked her petals one by one as if she can grow them back.
Slowly, I reach out, my fingers brushing her shoulder before she shoves at my chest and I take a step back.
“I said I release myself!” She yells.
“I won’t let you do that.” I reach forward, and she shoves harder.
“Why?! Why do you insist on this shell of a relationship?” She covers her face in her hands, and I strike. I grab Violet by the throat and walk her back to the wall. Gripping my fingers around her jaw, I hold her gaze on mine. She sniffles and whimpers, pressing her palms on my chest and trying to shove. But it’s useless; I’m not allowing that anymore. She raises her hands and slams them down against my chest, beating me once, twice. Violet’s hands ball into fists, and she sends them down on me again and again as the tears begin to flow from her haunting ocean eyes. That’s right, let it out, my Flower. “If you want me, why won’t you make me anything other than your secret whore?!”
So that’s how she sees herself.
“You’ve never been my whore, Violet.” Grabbing one of her hands off my chest, I lift it to my mouth and kiss the tops of her fingers.
“You’re the most stable and unstable relationship in my life.” Her voice shakes, and she wipes her eyes with her free hand. “Our entire relationship has only existed because I keep coming back. If I had fought you, or forced it to be real, what would you do to keep me? Nothing,” she almost spits the last word out. “Because all I have to do is walk into the streets and you’d back off so that no one saw you with me.”
“Wrong. If you had fought me, I would have chained you to me. If everyone knows about us, I will never let you out of my sight. I didn’t want to do that to you… To have you gain your freedom from one monster just to have it confiscated by another.”
“You’re not a monster… Not to me.”
“When we were younger, I brought my mother tea while you were sewing, not just because I loved her, but because I loved seeing you with her. I started bartending at the theater so that I could see you on stage and make sure no one touched you. I danced with you and kissed you tonight because I’m done hiding us; I never should have. I’m sorry… I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” Releasing her neck, I reach into my pocket, pull out the ring I spent months designing and crafting, and kneel on one knee. “You’ve always been Mrs. Powers. I’m here. Will you have me?”
“Do I have a choice?” She whispers after staring at it for a beat. I swallow thickly, my skin crawling.
No. No. No.
“Yes…” I force the word past the frog in my throat. Violet leans over, pressing her lips softly to mine.
Fuck… My heart jumps out of the gate, racing past all sanity.
Please don’t make me say goodbye…
I don’t know that I can follow through with giving her this choice.
“Yes, I will have you.” The breath I didn’t realize I was holding whooshes from my lungs. I slide the ring over her finger. A smile peeks through her frown as she looks down at the ring. White gold, engraved with two small circles on either side of a dark amethyst in an emerald cut. I went through several sketches before settling on this one. It’s simple, unique, and almost as beautiful as Violet herself.
“I love you.” Her gaze darts to mine, the tide rolling into her eyes.
“I love you too…”
“Promise me, you won’t ever try to hurt yourself again… Don’t take yourself from me, from this world.”
“I promise,” she whispers. Placing my hand back on her throat, I rise and walk her back until we’re close enough that I throw her down onto the bed.
“If I had found you at the bottom of that cliff, I’d be jumping after you.”
“I’m sorry…”
“Pain like that… It’s so deep, it needs to be purged from the flesh,” I say. Violet takes a deep inhale, holding it for a beat before exhaling. She unzips her bodysuit, sliding down and letting it fall to the floor. She turns over onto the mattress, giving me the perfect view of my favorite canvas. Her shoulder bears my permanent mark, her back and ass left with some faint scars from our previous work. She glances at me over her shoulder, and I’m already on edge from the anticipation of pain and pleasure. Then she says my three favorite words.
“I’m ready, Master.”
Last night was enough to fill my cup for an eternity.
Violet’s submission to my touch, how she allows herself to succumb to the pain and the ultimate release. Her metallic crimson blood bursting over my tongue as I dive in, bite after bite. Sucking and nipping at her flesh until the shades of purple emerge through, coming together to create a field of lupines on her fine canvas.
I take a long drag of my cigarette, the pure lavender smoke burning hot in my throat. Its medicinal properties penetrating my muscles and my mind as my own personal antipsychotic. Not that I need it as much this morning, Violet is a potent enough drug on her own. But I haven’t slept, and that’s a risky trigger to gamble with.
Blowing the smoke across the room, I continue rubbing my finger over my sketch, spreading the graphite over the page to match the scene I’ve created. I always draw Violet after our sessions to preserve the one-of-a-kind, once-in-a-lifetime art we create together.
