Within a few minutes, I let out a deep sigh and one last tremor before closing my eyes and succumbing to the blackness that beacons.
*****
My hand is cramped into a fist and my palm stings.
I slowly open my eyes and see the same sight as before, but I’m no longer shaking. I intentionally relax my fist and open it to find the source of the sting: a ring.
Chase’s ring. The only good thing in my life. Even though the memories that the ring stirs up are painful, it’s a good painful. It reminds me that once upon a time, good things happened in my life. It reminds me to be sane.
I sit up slowly and am relieved to find myself completely healed from my last session with Ramon.
Wait. No, that’s not right.
Images flash through my head and I shudder... Being hung from my wrists in the arena and whipped until I stopped responding... The cattle prod on my nipples and clit... Ramon’s twisted grin as he brings in...
I cover my face and curl up in a ball trying to erase the image of what he’d done... What he made me do... What I’ve done so many times before...
I remember... Anger....
“No more!” I shout and feel the rage consume me. Men screaming... Blood...bullets...whips...cries of anguish...screaming...blood...death...
I sit up suddenly. I killed them.
My heart races in my chest and I can’t breathe.
“No!” I shake my head but the memories won’t stay away.
I’m so strong, I can fight off Ramon and his men with my bare hands. They shoot me, but I don’t feel it. They deserve to die. They’re evil men who do evil things. Not only to me but to the innocent as well. God knows I’m no innocent. Not anymore.
In my rage, I am unable to distinguish one person from another. The men are all dead now, but there is still a living being in the room. And I attack her.
I scream and fall on my back, knowing what I’ve done. God knows Ramon deserved what he got, but not her. Not that innocent girl.
I’m a monster. They’ve turned me into a monster.
*****
How long have I been lying here? The wood is warm beneath me now. I’ve dozed, stared at the ceiling above me, dozed, and have been staring at the white plastered ceiling for God knows how long this time around.
The house is silent. I’ve never heard it like this.
How many people did I kill this time? I should feel sad, guilty, for what I’ve done, but I feel nothing. And it feels good. I like feeling nothing. Although is the liking itself an emotion? Is the very desire to feel nothing, enjoying the emptiness, feeling itself?
Ugh, I don’t want to delve so deeply into my psyche at the moment.
Wait, the house is silent? I’ve not heard any footsteps in ages. Am I...? Am I alone? Oh, god is it possible? Is it possible I might be able to escape this hell hole?
I sit up suddenly and blood rushes to my head, making the room spin and blinding me with gold and red sparkles. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the dizziness to pass.
Once I can see again, I roll forward to crouch silently, still listening for boots in the hallway, but after several minutes of balancing on my toes, there is still no evidence of life outside the heavy wooden door that stands between me and the rest of the house.
Slowly I straighten my legs, wincing slightly at the stiffness in my muscles.
I glance down at my naked body and see dried blood covering my front. I imagine it looks quite the same on my back. I hold my breath and close my eyes, mentally searching the house but I feel no one, so I turn away from the door and silently creep to the bathroom. After a quick, but much-needed shower, I dress in a short cotton dress, the only item of clothing I’m allowed to wear, and make my way back to the bedroom door. The house is still silent and I open the heavy door and slowly look up and down the hallway.
I’m alone. I can sense no one else around. I walk silently around the house and find no one. I avoid the door to the arena, though. I know what’s behind those wooden doors and don’t want to see it with my sane eyes.
I return to my room and sit down on the bed. What do I do now?
Escape.
The idea both startles me and thrills me. I’m alone. For the first time in years. Why am I still sitting here?
An energy I’ve not felt in years surges through my body and I jump to my feet and run to the closet. I throw my few possessions into my dance bag but keep Chase’s ring on my finger. I need his strength to give me the courage to do what my heart is telling me to do.
There’s no question in my mind as to where I’m going. Boston. It’s the only place I know people. I push away the doubts that threaten to seep into my mind. I can’t spend time doubting myself or I’ll never leave. Khyan isn’t here and I don’t know when he’ll return. I have to leave before he does or I’ll never get away.
I run to Ramon’s office and rifle through his desk. He’s not only my keeper when Khyan isn’t here, but also runs a drug ring linked to Mexico. He always has plenty of cash to throw around and that’s what I need. But it’s not in his desk.
Of course it’s not, stupid.
I look across the room and see an open door. A closet. Inside, is an open safe with a duffel bag sitting next to it. It looks like Ramon’s goons were in the middle of transferring cash and drugs to the safe when I...lost control of my faculties.
I grab several stacks from the safe and shove them into my own bag. Ramon won’t need it anymore. Khyan certainly doesn’t need it. Immortals don’t need cash. Well, Immortals like me do.
I pause. Immortal. I’m Immortal. Khyan will be able to find me. And the Immortal part of me is the dangerous part. The uncontrollable part. On the top shelf of the safe, I see what can keep me from being discovered. With shaky hands, I take one of the thumbnail-sized diamonds and stare at it for a long moment.
Diamonds can remove and hold my Immortalness.
I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I can.
I pick up my bag and stare at the diamond as I walk slowly back to my room.
Can I remove the offensive part of me? Can I be brave and face the pain of ripping my soul apart?
But why would I want to keep it? It’s evil. It hurts people.
I close my eyes and put the gem in my mouth. After a few seconds of not feeling anything, my veins start to burn. I clench my teeth together and squeeze my eyes shut as the gold in my blood boils and makes its way to the awaiting vessel. My skin is on fire. My throat wants to scream. My muscles contract as if trying to squeeze themselves to death. My hands clench, digging fingernails into palms. Groans escape my throat and I press my fist to my lips to keep myself from spitting out the offending object.
But the boiling agony intensifies and I let out a blood-curdling scream of pain. The diamond escapes as I wrestle with the pain. I stare as it rolls across the floor before I collapse on the cool wood once more and blackness overtakes me.
About The Author
“If Stephen King got together with Tom Clancy and wrote an erotica book...,”
...is how Marissa describes her books when asked. She doesn’t seek to write any particular genre, style, or length, only following her gut instincts and the lead of her characters. The Life of Anna crosses many genre lines including erotica, suspense, psychological thriller, horror, political conspiracy, paranormal, and romance. Marissa’s story of Anna began with a dream about being kidnapped with Adam Savage from Mythbusters (Yes, really). Over the next year and a half, it morphed into the story that is now known as “The Life of Anna.” She has also published Distorted Hope, which is based on her kidnapped dream. Abandoned Grace was published last year as a side story to The Life of Anna.
Marissa stays busy running her household, fending off two adorable kittens, and interacting with her readers on social media. She is a self-proclaimed geek and is strivin
g to learn the basics of graphic design. She is also actively pursuing a more natural lifestyle, which includes essential oils, natural cleaning products, and whole, organic foods. Marissa’s addictions include the Science and History Channels, anything chocolate mint, vintage books, cute kitty cats and laughter.
Master of My Body Page 9