by K Larsen
“Holden?” Lotte’s voice snaps me from my memory. “Holden?” her voice is small and scared.
“What?” I snap. I’m back at the hotel. In the doorway. Her delicate hand extends and points to me. I look down. “Shit,” I mutter.
“Are you hurt?”
“It’s not my blood.” Charlotte cries out. I slam the door shut behind me and storm to her. Placing a hand over her mouth, I tell her, “Be quiet.” She mumbles something into my palm. I let her speak.
“Is it Nora’s?”
I wrinkle my brow. “What? No. No, Lotte. It’s not Nora’s blood.” She sags with relief and I head to the bathroom to clean myself up.
“Whose is it, then?” she asks.
“You ask too many questions,” I shout over the running water.
Anton’s.
It is Anton’s blood. He hurt Nora, broke her. No one lays a hand on something that belongs to me. I let the scalding water rinse the blood from my hands. The little punk will never bother anyone again. Part of me can’t wait to tell Nora what I’ve done for her. The other part is scared to tell her.
I exit the bathroom and look at Charlotte. She’s sitting Indian style on the bed, watching TV. I plug it in for her while I’m home to entertain her. Her blonde hair is ratty and needs brushing. I reach back into the bathroom and grab the hair brush. I never intended to keep her around after Eve left, but hurting a child is not the same as the others. I couldn’t kill her. I see her and think of Laura. I feel the need to protect her the way I did my own sister. Right or wrong, I decided to keep Lotte.
I sit down on the bed behind her. She barely pays me any attention. She is used to my madness. I pull her hair over her shoulders so it falls down her back and begin brushing. Long, slow, strokes. She only winces at one large knot. Her hand cups her scalp and she turns to shoot me a scathing look. It makes me laugh. Little Lotte trying to intimidate me. Her expression quickly morphs into something I can’t quite identify, as she takes me in.
“What did you do to your hair?” she asks. Her hand darts out to touch my newly buzzed head. I incline my head to let her feel it.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
She wrinkles her face. “I don’t know. You look weird without hair. I’ve never seen your face really either.” She turns my head side to side, her small hand on my clean shaven chin. “It’s alright.”
I stifle another laugh. “Do you think Nora will like it?”
Lotte shrugs. “I think Nora will like you, however you come.”
“You’re a smart little thing,” I tell her and pat her head. She bites her lip and turns back to the television. I resume brushing her hair.
Dr. Richardson
“Good morning, Nora,” I say, as she comes through the door. It’s not a good morning. I slept like crap. I was drained after a full day of patients. I dragged myself home, made dinner and spent some quality time with my pooch before binging on a Netflix series and going to bed. I was out the moment my head hit the pillow, but within an hour, I woke up. Nora weighed heavily on me. I couldn’t turn my brain off and I’d tossed and turned for the entire night.
“You look tired,” she says. I give her a half smile.
“I am. You’re very perceptive.” She takes her seat and makes herself comfortable. Her shirt rides up as she adjusts and I notice a scab at her waist. She quickly tugs her shirt down. When her eyes meet mine, she looks away. Cutting is not unusual in my line of work. I am surprised that it has taken me this long to notice though. Where there is one cut, there are generally more. I imagine this isn’t the first time she has cut herself.
“What happened?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nothing.” I wait in silence and shoot her a pointed look.
She sighs. “I don’t know why I did it.”
“Did what?” I want her to tell me. To own up to it.
“Cut myself.” Her eyes wander the floor.
I jot a quick note on my pad. “Do you think it had anything to do with Anton?”
Her eyes snap to mine. She shakes her head rapidly. “No.”
“You don’t think it’s odd that you chose to do that after pressing charges against a man who sexually assaulted you?” I scoop my hair back and clip it away from my face.
“That wasn’t why. I don’t have any pent up feelings toward Anton.” Her voice is confident.
I errantly pick a dog hair from my pants. “I’m concerned the similarities between Anton and Holden might be confusing you.”
“There are no similarities.” Her tone is sure. There is no room in her world for arguing but I am going to push her to understand.
“Anton forced you against your will. Holden did as well. You trusted Anton like family. You trusted Holden as well. Each man broke that trust and made you feel powerless. Do you not see the similarities there?”
Nora scowls at me. “I never loved Anton. He did not love me. What he did was purely a power move. Holden . . . yes, some parts were against my will but he also took care of me. He is like a drug I crave. He never pushed me before I was ready.” Her voice is urgent, as if she needs to convey something to me of great importance.
“If I am wrong, why then, did you choose to cut yourself at this juncture?” I ask.
Nora looks out the window and is silent for long minutes. I wait her out. She needs to gather her thoughts and I want to let her. I take a sip from my glass of water.
“I wanted to feel it again.” She has a dreamy look in her eye. Almost, nostalgic.
“Feel what?”
She looks to me and tucks her hair behind her ears. “That pain before the pleasure. I wanted to remember it. Feel it. I . . . I missed it.”
“Explain how the pain makes you feel,” I say.
“Strong. Capable. It’s anticipation of the pleasure to follow. It’s a sign I’m pleasing him.”
I jot down more notes. I need to push further. I need Nora to explore her own beliefs. “Without that pain, you don’t feel those things?”
“Not often,” she says.
“What other circumstances give you those same feelings?”
“Off the top of my head? I don’t know. Caring for people. I was a good stand in for Lotte. I guess some praise makes me feel like I’ve pleased the person it comes from.”
“That’s good. Can you make me a promise, Nora?” She shrugs. “I want you to promise that between now and our next session, you won’t cut yourself.”
She bites her bottom lip. Her eyes take in everything but me. “I will try,” she finally says.
“Can you give me an example of the pain Holden inflicted in conjunction with pleasure?
Her lips turn up at the corners. “Of course, I can,” she says.
Nora
It is moments like these with Holden that I crave. Where his hands, his teeth, his lips—consume me.
“I’m so close,” I whine.
He yanks my hips closer still to his face. Nips on my clit. My body writhes. I need to come. My vision blurs. I am thirsty. His tongue and lips work together, seamlessly. I can’t see straight. He’s been teasing for hours. I’m on the brink. Stars start to dance in my vision. My body grows rigid as my orgasm nears. Then, nothing. I groan in frustration.
“Please, Holden,” I beg. I’m almost crying. I’m raw everywhere. My nerve bundles frayed from all the stimulation. He pulls back, jaw glistening with my juice and smirks. “What makes you think you deserve it?” He stands and looms above me. I shudder. He grabs my breasts and pulls me to a standing position, before pushing me against the wall. I stifle a squeal of pain. With a hand wrapped around my neck, he makes me stare into his eyes. “You know nobody will love you the way I do, right?” I nod my head, but start to panic as he puts pressure on my neck. But no sooner than he starts to squeeze, he removes his hand. I ache to be touched and covet to be taken by him. He has conditioned me to need pain to gain pleasure. To desire it. Thoughts of him tying me to his bed, biting me, and forcing himself on me run through my h
ead. He is never gentle. He always produces pain. “Hands behind your back, Nora.”
I try not to cringe and do as instructed. I drop to my knees and put my hands behind my back. Holden binds my hands before circling in front of me. I don’t like it when I can’t see him, so I’m glad that isn’t the plan. My breathing grows ragged in anticipation. He grabs the back of my hair roughly. Fisting it, he twists me around and pulls my head towards him. “Taste how fucking sweet you are.” He crashes his lips to mine from above, sliding his tongue in, so I get the full flavor of my taste. With his fist still in my hair, he wrenches me forward, smearing his pre-cum over my lips. He pushes my head forward, causing my lips to part and take him in my mouth. He’s not gentle as he pounds fast and severe—hitting the back of my throat. He viciously thrusts his hips, and I feel when the liquid hits the back of my throat. Some I take, some splutters from the corners of my mouth. He pants. Braces his hands on his knees while he comes down.
He pushes my shoulders, causing me to arch backward into some crazy yoga position. My head thumps the floor between my heels. I start to loll to the side but he holds my waist firmly in place. “I love looking at you spread out for me.”
He crawls to me and aligns himself with my entrance. Hand on my hips, he digs his fingers into my skin and thrusts.
“Ow!” I scream out. Sensations like no other start to crawl up my insides. I can feel it rising . . . feel the pivotal ecstasy coursing through my veins. “Move with me,” he commands. With my hands behind my back and my body bent awkwardly, I can’t move much but I can thrust ever so slightly. I’m desperate, as I try to move faster, my breathing becoming laborious with every move I make. My body trembles, and the hairs all over me rise as my orgasm prepares itself for the swell to end all swells. With a hand under my lower back, he uses the other to pinch my lower belly.
“Holden,” I cry out. His hands leave my waist and plant on either side of my head. His thrusts become volatile and vicious. He bites me hard on the breast, and grunts out his own release. I watch his eyes as he takes in my body. It’s a gaze full of admiration and it makes my heart swell, that I please him. His hands come to my shoulders and lift until I’m kneeling again.
Silently, he undoes his belt from my wrists and picks me up into his arms. My limbs hang limp and numb. He carries me to his room and gently lays me down onto the bed. The old mattress dips, as he scoots in with me and covers us both before pulling me against his warm body. He may have punished me, but now he’s rewarding me with his compassion.
I smile.
“You aren’t happy. Did I do something wrong?” I ask. The last week I have been nothing but obedient. Holden has been a breeze to live with. Even Lotte seems more at ease but tonight, something is on his mind.
He paces back and forth. “I need things from you that you aren’t giving me. It’s time, Nora.”
“Tell me what to do, Holden. I will try harder. I will do anything.” Shame and embarrassment wash over me. The ice cold of his green eyes is fixed to my wide, terrified stare.
“Give this to me and I will give you the life you deserve.”
My breathing grows rapid. “I will let you love me, however you can.”
“What I crave isn’t love.”
“Okay,” I say. “What then?”
“It involves pain.”
“What kind of pain?” He already gives pain. What more could he want?
He lifts his shirt, revealing a patchwork of scars under his armpit, over his ribs. He drops his shirt. “I have never seen a back as perfect and untouched as yours. I want to use it as my canvas. I want to cut you. Make you as beautiful as the night sky. A constellation map.” My breath hitches. “I can promise you, that if you let me hurt you, I will pleasure you, too.” Holden sees my face. I am sure my disgust is reflected there. I quickly school my features.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Never in front of Lotte.”
Holden appraises me. Cocks his head. “Okay, but she will need to tend to the cuts for me. To keep them clean. I don’t want to keep secrets in this family.”
I like that he said family. I think it over. “Okay.” At my words, he pulls me to him and kisses me deeply.
When he pulls away I ask, “How does it work?” He pulls me into the bedroom and circles me as I stand. His eyes glint with excitement.
“Strip.” I wrinkle my brow in confusion. “Now, Nora.” His voice is hard. Firm. I do as I’m told, letting my clothes pool around my feet. “On your knees.” I drop to my knees before him. “Extend your hands above you—forehead to the floor.” Again, I do as I’m told. My nipples harden as they graze the wooden floor boards. He hovers over me, a hand gently grazing my spine from neck to buttocks.
“Holden,” I call out, nervous.
“No speaking now.” There is a sound I can’t immediately identify. An unsheathing. Cool metal touches my skin and I flinch. His large hand flattens on my back. “Do not move. Breathe through the pain and remain still and silent.” I bite my bottom lip until a copper tang fills my mouth. The blade slices my skin. Short lines. One. Two. Four. I pant. The blade is pulled away and Holden spanks me. “Do not move, Nora.”
“It hurts,” I whine.
“Yes.” Is the only response I get from him. Tears drip from my nose to the floor. I can hear each miniscule splat. There is that sound again and suddenly I am being massaged. My hips, my buttocks, hands knead and move up my sides. They slide beneath my armpits and lift. My shoulder burns from the paper-cut like slices. He lays me on the bed. I wince as my shoulder makes contact with the blanket.
He wipes my tears away.
“Now, I am going to reward you.” He sheds his clothes and climbs into bed with me. His touch is more tender than ever. His lips feather light caresses. Fingers find my center and a flutter of heat takes root, deep in my belly. Holden works me slowly, steadily, until I am on the brink. I moan as his mouth works my nipple. I barely feel the pain on my back any longer. My pelvis moves on its own. I am no longer in control of my body. “Not yet,” he whispers in my ear and pulls his hand away from my core. I whine at the loss of sensation. “Tell me, Nora.”
I do not hesitate. “I belong to you.” The words tumble from my mouth in a rush. “Only ever you, Holden.”
His grin is vicious and infectious. He nibbles his way from my neck down, until he is between my legs. “That’s right. Only ever me.” He licks between my legs once and my hips buck. I am not accustomed to this new sensation. “Do you trust me, Nora?” I look down my belly to him. His hair is wild, his bearded face hovering so close to my center, as he waits for me to answer.
“Yes,” I breathe. Holden’s face disappears between my legs and my head drops to the pillow. He feasts like he is a starved man. It is rough and uncomfortable, until it isn’t. Until my body begins to tingle. I pant and my hips move to their own rhythm.
“Fuck my face, Nora.” At his words, I lose whatever is left of my inhibitions. My body takes over. It is forceful and violent, as it takes from Holden what it wants. His groans of pleasure send shockwaves of pleasure through me, until I feel as though I am going to implode. His teeth nip at my clitoris and a hand pumps hard inside me and in a blinding moment, ecstasy pulls me under. I think I scream out but the voice sounds far away.
With lips that shine wet with . . . me . . . Holden crawls up the bed until he is hovering above me.
He places my legs, that are now useless deadweight, over his shoulders. He kisses me as he pushes inside of me. I can taste myself on his lips and it shocks me.
“Do not blush at your own taste. The pleasure should be savored,” he says, before kissing me again. This position is new and I can feel . . . everything. Deeply. My body trembles and Holden’s pace grows frantic.
“Say it,” he huffs. I wrap my arms around his neck and over his grunt of pleasure, I tell him, “Only ever you.”
Another tiny earthquake ripples through me as Holden collapses on top of me. My legs fall to either side of him. Hi
s head rests on my breasts. His breathing is ragged. I place a hand on the back of his head and close my eyes.
“You are special,” he breathes. I smile and let myself drift, as he traces patterns on my skin gently.
In the morning, Lotte comes in with a bowl of water, a small glass bottle and a washcloth. She pulls the blankets from my back. I am on my belly and sore.
“What is that?” I ask. She uses the dropper to dispense a liquid on my back.
“Iodine and tea tree oil. To keep them clean.” Her voice is flat. Far away. It stings but I let her do what Holden instructed her to do. When she is done, she leaves without a word. I dress and get up to cook breakfast.
I adjust quickly to the burning aftermath of Holden’s cutting. I am sore the next day but he never cuts two days in a row. He gives me time to heal and for that, I am grateful. Holden splits logs every day for hours, in preparation for winter. Lotte and I reap what we can from the garden and animals to store. She taught me how to can. We stand at the counter together, canning tomatoes.
“He’s chopping enough wood to keep us sweating until next summer,” I muse, watching Holden’s muscles flex as he chops.
Lotte lifts her eyes and looks at the pile of wood. “That’s not enough for winter.”
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow at her.
She shakes her head. “Winter is hard, Nora.” Lotte meets my eye and holds it. “Why don’t you fight anymore?”
I furrow my brow. “Shh. None of that talk. Holden is good to us.”
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“I’m wonderful, kiddo.” I tug her braid playfully. She gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. I wipe my hands on my apron and continue canning. “Maybe you should take a break and read a book.”
“I’m okay,” she answers.