by Poppet
Picking her up I hoist her over my shoulder, "Come here wench."
She squeals as she hangs upside down, "Victor! Put me down!"
I comply when we reach the sparring mats, ordering her, "Roll over."
She eyes me suspiciously, "Why?"
"Would you learn to trust me? Please?"
She seems wary but rolls over. Resting on my heels over her, I knead thumbs into her shoulders, "This is why, you suspicious woman."
"Hmmmmm!"
Laughing, I work out the stress in her back, tracing her fragile spine. Knowing where a well inserted blade would end life, where a blade would permanently paralyse. Humans are so blindly trusting. But she needs to stay happy. Her frame of mind affects her body. That body is my incubator.
Leaning over I kiss the vertebrae which will end her life, "Sexy girl."
"Fuck me, slowly."
Pausing, I can't believe I just heard right. "Seriously?"
"It's an expression of complete incredulous enjoyment. Randy man!"
Laughing, I tickle her, "You are my victim now sexy wench."
Squealing happily, she squirms until she's facing me, holding my wrists. I let her win, allowing her to think she's stronger than she is. Perception, after all, is everything. I'll give her fake confidence. Smiling more at my thoughts than at her, I hold her down with my weight resting heavily on her, forcing ownership into her mouth, using body language to communicate what I'd rather be doing to her right now.
Her eyes close, she relaxes the struggle against my wrists, kissing me back. Good girl.
Chapter 32
Great photography is about depth of feeling, not depth of field.
~ Peter Adams
Sitting up, I switch on the bedside lamp. When does this end?
She's thrashing, muffled screams punctuating night silence. Intrigued I watch as her legs kick out, holding arms defensively over her face. She's definitely struggling with something. It's like watching a woman being attacked with a poltergeist. Her arms are forced back as if she has no control over them.
Shaking her head, tears streaming through closed eyelids. Her face is so pale, it's Renaissance in its perfection. Quickly I grab my back-up Sony and capture it. Hiding it back in the drawer next to the bed and locking it with the digital code.
"No … no … no …" whimpers through trembling lips.
This distress must end. Severe stress can cause miscarriage. I won't let you murder my son. Leaning over I shake her, "Shauna."
***
With one hand gripped around my throat, throttling the air out of me, I claw, gasping, choking. Hurled backward, the impact winds me. My sight blurring, struggling to breathe when hands grip mine, shoving them above my head as his aggression explodes into my cheek.
"You want to meet the real me, little Shauna?"
His tone is derisive and mocking. So deep, guttural and abrasive. Like a chain-saw severing my nerves. My soul is trying to flee my body as he leans in and kisses me, smearing blood over my mouth with his lips, "Hey angel? You want me. You love me. You fuck me because you finally obey my commands."
Shaking my head, I deny his demented reality, "No!"
"Yes baby. I am everything in this world that loves and cherishes you. You are mine. All mine. How many times and ways must I take you before you'll see me?"
"I'll find your kryptonite. If you're really an angel let me see your face! You aren't God, I won't go blind. I dare you! I dare you to show me who you are." Standing over me, just like an avenging angel, I stare up at him, intimidated, overshadowed, afraid. Part of me is gripped with such intense anxiety I'm tempted to stop him. Pleading as I change my mind, "No … no … no …"
But he's opening it up, I'm going to see him! … Someone calls to me. He's fading. NO! I want to see your demonic face!
***
"Angel? Honey, wake up, you're having a nightmare."
Automatically I curl myself inside his arms, comforted by listening to his steady heartbeat. I can't shake the impression that I know Vengeance. I've probably looked straight into his eyes and not known it. He must have stalked me to know so much about me, which means at some point I must have met him. If only I hadn't woken just at the point of revelation.
"How does he see us?"
"Who?"
"Vengeance." Looking up at a stubbly chin, again I'm feeling better knowing Victor and his capable strength are here to protect me.
"Binoculars probably."
"Maybe." Or maybe, he's like one of those crazy stalkers you see on TV with cameras everywhere, even the shower. That's it! He's put cameras and stuff in my home! Pushing myself away, I blurt this conclusion, "He's bugged me. He has. He said he's watching you now too, so he's probably got cameras here and in my place."
"Darling you're getting carried away. It was just a nightmare. You need your rest."
"I know him. I know I do. He's probably even someone I consider a friend. He's a coward for hiding his face."
I watch him leave the room, then return. He sits down, looking stern.
***
My blood runs cold. Hatred grips me, tempted to clamp my hands tight around her throat and shut her down. Shut her up. Immediately forcing holes into her theory. I have to nip this in the bud, or I'll be forced to end her.
"That's preposterous. That doesn't explain how he found Mark. Or how he knew that your parents wouldn't believe you? He knew your parents wouldn't believe you, which is why he chose you. You're a vulnerable target."
Sitting up she pushes against me, defiant anger igniting her eyes to sapphire intensity, "You're not listening to me …"
"I am listening. But your theory doesn't account for his angel story. It doesn't account for why he needs to save you." Glaring at her, I undermine her shaky self-confidence, "What are you hiding from me Shauna? What does he know about you that I don't? Why does he treat you with such sexual brutality? Who did you treat like that?"
"Victor!"
Taunting her, I choose my words deliberately, "How much of this is guilt? Guilt stalks people too, Shauna. Do you have things hidden behind that sweet smile that you'd like to confess to me? Hmm? Now, while I'm in a forgiving mood and willing to listen? Why not enlighten me to who you really are when you're not being the victim?"
Cold laughter bubbles over unexpectedly at her face turning ashen, "Oh I can tell by your appalled expression I've hit the nail on the head. So you used others which is why he's using you? And now you have me, and you call him a coward? Maybe he is a coward, but so are you – aren't you? You run away from your problems. It's easier for you to hide behind righteous anger, or to hide behind me. I even have to be the intermediary between you and your parents."
Standing up as if disgusted by her, I drop acidly, "If there's a coward in this equation, it's you. And what crap about bugging us. How did he always know how to find you? Or your phone number? Or where you lived to get his flowers delivered? Your fear is clouding your own coherent thinking. I'm sick of this melodrama. Just face that you had a bad dream, let me sedate you so at least for once we can fucking sleep through an entire night!"
Her face morphs through expressions. Rage, shock, denial, self-pity, back to anger. Fuck! Come on Shauna, don't do this to me.
"Fine! Do you feel better now? Because I don't!" she yells at me, grabbing a pillow and making as if to leave.
Grabbing her roughly I force her into my embrace, hugging her tightly, making her listen. "Look, I'm sorry." Squeeze. "I'm tired too. You're a nightmare to sleep with. It's like sleeping with a tornado raging every night."
Satisfaction flows warmth through my limbs as she's reduced to tears again.
"Baby, I'll take the couch. You know where I am if you need me." Tilting her wet nose up I brush ineffectual lips over it. "And I'll go to the Spy shop tomorrow and get one of those bug detection devices and sweep our homes. Okay?"
She nods, shuddering silently, sucking large shaking breaths into her mouth. That mouth, that fucking amazing mouth.
I wish I could just shove my dick in it and shut her up. Distract her with me, the way it should be.
Chastising insidiously, "You need to leave him behind now, Shauna. You are clinging as desperately to him as he is to you. How can I compete?"
Her head moves unsteadily from side to side. Sheer misery pulling her face into distortion, "I … I …" She takes a gulp of air, staring up at me with red-rimmed eyes, "I hear you. I know this is me. My subconscious is worse than he is. It confuses me. It takes everything familiar and mixes it all up." Trembling in jerks, she rests her forehead into my chest, "I love you. I hate him. How dare he make you feel like he's competition to you."
"Shauna, he's not doing it. You are."
Horrified eyes meet mine, shining with sparkling beauty, "But I love you. I'm sorry."
"If you tell yourself that often enough maybe you'll actually believe it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You fight with me every opportunity you get. I can't make love to you, because of him. I can't sleep in the same bed with you, because of him. I get into trouble for defending your honour, because of him. I'm stuck between you and your parents, to the point where you get sulky and bitchy with me, because of him. What the fuck can I do that won't get me into trouble? Forgive me Shauna, but I'm male. I don't understand female logic on a good day, but you've taken instability and moodiness to a whole new level. You've won the female fuck-over-male-rationality-with-hormones, at Olympic level."
She propels herself away by shoving against me, flouncing onto the bed, turning her back to me.
"I do love you Shauna, but you make it hard. I feel like you're persecuting me simply for being here and male. I don't know how else I can prove to you that I care about you and I'm not here to hurt you. But you bring your silent boyfriend between us constantly. You get angry with me, when you're really angry with him."
Silence. Moody, claustrophobic silence.
Moving around to her, I drop her mediation CD onto the bedside table. Deliberately rubbing her detesting shoulder which jerks to shake me off, I then kiss her forehead, "Try to relax. I'm leaving your CD and the player in here with you. I'm giving you space to sort yourself out. Goodnight my angel."
Hiding my grin I pull the bedroom door closed. I can sleep anywhere, this is no hardship to me.
Chapter 33
There are always two people in every picture: the photographer and the viewer.
~ Ansel Adams
If she accepted God, she would have peace. The fact that she is in there listening behind a closed door to American Indian chanting in order to relax and meditate, tells me she's still lost. She should be in there praying. She must succumb to Father's power, or she will continue to be problematic. That baby has to happen soon. Her life depends on it.
Her reasoning mind is looking for answers. She hasn't let the past go, and I can see only one way to get her to release it and fully accept me. If Vengeance dies in front of her, this bullshit will end. She needs to give herself to me fully, for Father to accept her into the fold. Thomas, aptly named, has been a problem himself for the past few months. It's time to put doubting Thomas out of his misery, in service to Alpha, and the first born son; me.
She needs to believe that I regret my tone last night, I must pander to her whims during this delicate stage. I've made her breakfast and run her bath. I'll feed her the lie that I'm going out to the Spy Shop, and use it to employ Thomas for his final mission. To wear the armour and appear before her. With me in bed beside her, she'll never consider that I am Vengeance. I will use the moment to demonstrate my power, murdering Thomas for questioning Father, and at the same time, tying her through guilt and gratitude to me, for eternity.
***
I hear him come into the bedroom as the watery light begins to filter underneath the drapes. His footsteps are quiet but without the hesitance that I remember occurring after a big argument in previous relationships. How does he stay so self-assured?
I listen to the dull thud, sneaking a peek through eyelashes at the tray placed on the bedside table. He bends over me, whispering lips over my brow before whispering in my ear, "I love you angel. I'll do anything for you."
Damn he makes staying cross with him impossible. I open my eyes to stare at his delicious lips. Withdrawing, his expression immediately changes to pensive and worried when he sees I'm awake.
"I made you some breakfast."
I can smell the coffee and my stomach is grumbling in response to the stimulation. "Thank you."
Sitting down next to me, he rubs a hand over the nearest leg hidden with the duvet, "You know I love you?"
"Yes."
He flashes a wry grin. "I've run a deep bath for you, with your favourite Vanilla foam-bath, and a fresh towel is waiting already heated. I have to pop out to get supplies from the Spy Shop to check our homes. Will you be okay if I leave you alone for an hour?"
Isn't he just Mr Perfect. I'm failing at suppressing my smile.
***
Jolting awake, I am positive the noise I heard was the front door closing. Keeping still, I strain my ears to listen. There! Someone just bumped into something. Alarmed, I grip his forearm with all the intensity of fear pumping through me, whispering urgently, "Victor."
Shaking him harder, sinking my nails into the skin covering his defined forearm, "Victor."
"Ow. What?" It's muffled and sleepy.
"He's here."
"Who?"
"Him!"
"What did you hear?" This time he sounds more alert.
"The door, then a bump."
"It's probably just a neighbour. Go back to sleep."
A slow scrape filters into the impenetrable darkness of our bedroom. "Did you hear it?" I whisper fervently. I'm desperate he believes me. My heart is thrashing so frantically with panic that I'm short of breath.
He pushes a finger over my lips, "Shh." Sneaking the duvet aside, he sits up, moving in silence around the bed to whisper into my ear, pulling me out of bed to join him, "I can't get to the gun without making a noise. Stay behind me. I don't want us separated. I'm going to have to take him down with my bare hands, or he'll hear me and I'll lose the element of surprise." With that he tugs me, drawing me with him into the eerie gloom outside the bedroom. The floor is sharply cold after the languid heat of the bed.
Yanking the hand holding mine to get his attention, I wait until I can feel his hot breath in my ear before feeling for his to whisper into it, "Be careful."
"I will." His voice is so low I can barely hear it.
Yanking again, his breath re-enters my ear. "I love you."
If Vengeance kills him, I don't think I can go on. I feel him nod, planting a soft kiss onto my neck before chilling air moves between us again, covertly revealing that he's moved. I can't see where we are, or where we're going. Retracing the route, I think he's brought us to the lounge. It circles round to the bathroom passage which meanders on past the bedroom. I wish my teeth would stop clattering.
His hand leaves mine. Paralysed with fear and indecision, I'm not sure what to do.
THUMP.
Oh God. What was that?
Scuffling and grunting follows the thump, then an unholy screech of sliding furniture shatters the claustrophobic silence. CRACK. It's such a disturbing pop of a sound, jumping nervously, I'm terrified to move. Afraid that I just heard Vengeance destroy the only thing I love in this whole world.
And I'm next. A cold trickle runs from my nape down my spine, the dark, the atmosphere of threat, it's so familiar. I can't. No. Please no. Please don't break me again. I've suffered, please … Sinking down to the floor, gripping my knees, I allow myself to weep soundlessly while I wait for the punishment I know is coming.
"Shauna, switch on the light."
A yelp escapes with the gratitude exploding through me. I'm trembling so violently that my knees knock the floor when I move to get up, the sound reminds me of someone banging to get out of their coffin after being buried alive.
"You're safe angel. I'm here. Please switch on the light."
Scrambling for the wall, scuffing the paint with my shaking fingers, I finally locate it and flip it on. Squinting against the searing light, I stare at the leather clad form at Victor's feet. The lounge chair has moved, the table knocked over, but my tormentor lies still. Afraid, I stare at Victor's serious face. "Is – is he?"
"Dead? Yes."
"How d-do you know?" I'm too afraid this is a ploy, and I'll walk over there and he'll lunge up like a zombie to grab me with his final breath.
"I had him by the neck. I didn't mean to, I was simply trying to get him to pass out so that we could phone the police. If you cut off the air supply in the neck, the person faints from lack of oxygen." Looking away, ashamed, down at the lifeless body prone at his feet, "I guess I was more tense than I realised. I couldn't Shauna … I just couldn't let him hurt you again. I needed him to go down. But …"
"What? Oh God. Victor what?"
"I felt it when I snapped his neck." Looking up at me, his face pale, he looks haunted by what he's just done.
"It-t was self-defence. You had no choice."
Victor looks down, moving the body with his foot, "He's unarmed Shauna. We just murdered a man in cold blood."
This acts as a catalyst for my trembling. I'm going to spend my life in prison because of this maniac. Bursting into tears, I know I'm becoming hysterical.
"We, we can keep it a secret. I can't lose you. They'll send us to prison!" My last word exited my throat as a wail. Balling my fist into my mouth, I fight myself, trying to keep it together. We need to think!
"God Shauna." He sinks down, staring at the body with obvious turmoil. Flicking his eyes back at me, "How are you coping? This is your nightmare come to life." He moves rapidly through the lounge, pulling me into his arms, soothing me with his strength. He murmurs into my hair, "I'll fix it. You've lost enough. I'll find a way to get rid of this. He's part of the past now. We can put it behind us. I'll keep your secret with me to the grave."