Master Over You

by Cerys du Lys

  "I love you," Noah says.

  He looks at me, into my eyes, into me, at my heart and soul. Noah sees me when no one else does. Noah understands me. I do not understand myself most of the time. I think I am too broken and impossible. I should not exist. I should have died, but I did not. I am not dead, I am alive. I do not know why I am alive, but if I must live, I wish to love. I wish to be allowed happiness. I want to know it is alright to feel sad, too. I want someone who will let me be and exist as I am, instead of telling me I am something else.

  I smile at Noah. "We will stop," I say. I begin to remove his finger.

  "No," he says, putting his hand on mine and pulling it away. "I want you to do this one, too. Don't stop now."

  I nod slowly. "Are you positive?"

  "Yeah," he says.

  I twist the bolt to set the crescent-wedge in place. We look into each other's eyes for a moment before Noah nods at me. I place my hands on the lever, but I hesitate. I do not know if I can do this. I wanted to do it before. I wanted Noah to keep his promise to me. I wanted his love. I wanted him to remember me. I still want all of those things, but I remember too much. I remember the hurt; my hurt. I feel. I am feeling. It is hard to do, but I am doing it. In this past week I have felt so much. I have felt anger with Noah. I thought I hated him. I thought I would kill him. I felt happiness and lust and need. I felt fear. I felt pain and regret and remorse. I felt everything when I have not felt anything for years, and now I feel love. I feel wanted, and I want, too.

  Noah clenches his eyes shut. I slam my hands down hard on the lever. His fingernail pops free. His broken finger, bloody and now battered, so fragile and lost. I will help him, though. We will help each other, Noah. We will be together. No more. No more pain or hurt, alright? It is over. We are done with it. We will be happy now. We will be. I promise.

  My heart beats hard and I rush to his side. Tears fall down my cheeks and crash onto his shoulder. I do not understand why I am crying, but it feels good. My tears are everything I was, transforming into everything I wish to be. They are a metamorphosis of my body and soul in a way that I do not think is possible, but it is happening. I kiss Noah on the cheek. His eyes are still shut while he deals with the pain, but they will open. I will help him. We will clean up and then we may lay in bed all day. We can go to your bed, Noah, in the room I have given you. I will feed you popcorn and we will watch a movie, and...

  My heart beats so hard and strong, agonizing. My body hurts. I feel a sharp pain in my side, so harsh and immediate that I breathe in fast and hitch my breath. Is this what such a powerful emotional love feels like?

  When I look to my side, there is a knife sticking out of me. It sits there, ripping through my shirt and my skin, making me bleed. I recognize it as one of my own, one that should be hidden in my home. How did that get there? Where did it come from? I look to the side and over my shoulder, but that is the last thing I do.

  Pain and hurt overwhelms me. I slump to the floor, lifeless. Blood pools around my body.

  *** Noah

  I'm gone. It's gone. The last one. This is over. It's over. Everything is fucking over.

  Who the fuck knows why, but I feel like this is a new beginning. I'm free. I am fucking free.

  Angeline's with me. The crazy fucking bitch is kissing my cheek. Seriously, I don't know what the fuck is wrong with her, but I think I could get used to it. I know I could. I want to.

  It's the simple shit that you never really think about. You never realize you're missing anything. Yeah, I watch a lot of movies at home, but it's only me. It's a fucking escape from reality. It's an escape, but it's really fucking lonely, too. I sit there, watching whatever the fuck I want, but what's the goddamn point? After awhile, there isn't one. It becomes mindless. I have to face the music again and go back to the real world.

  My real world isn't a happy place. It's full of despair and pain, hate and anger. I kidnap women for fuck's sake. That's not a happy fucking thing to do. I hurt them, I force myself on them, I break them down until they stop resisting, and then I try to fucking stop, too. I try to go slower.

  I'm fucking sorry, love. I don't want to hurt you. I want to hurt the fucker that wanted me to kidnap you in the first place, the asshole who paid me for you, but in order to do that I've got to sell him something. Right? It's nothing personal, love.

  Someone will save you. If no one saves you, I'll come back for you. I try to deal with the nicer assholes, so I can get to the really bad ones, but an asshole is an asshole, and you never really know. They might fucking snap at any minute. I try not to think about that.

  I don't know what I'm going to do anymore. I don't know if I'll do anything. Why the fuck should I? That's not how this works, though. I can't fucking stop. There's no way. It's impossible. I can figure something out, though. Angeline's here and maybe we can work something out together. I've got some ideas. I've been thinking about this. I don't fucking know if they're good ideas, but something's better than nothing.

  She stops kissing me and moves away from me. I hear the sound of her voice, gasping. I don't know what the fuck to do. I want to say something to her. I want to promise her something, but I don't know what the fuck to promise. This is way too fucking difficult.

  It's the simple shit that you never really think about. I never thought about asking a girl on a date before, but suddenly I want to. Hey, Ange? You want to go on a date? Not right now. Soon. My fingers really fucking hurt. This shit is seriously painful. In a bit... tomorrow? Fuck, maybe tonight. Something small. Let's just watch TV. Let's fucking cuddle. I want to cuddle with you, bitch. What do you say?

  I'm real sweet like that.

  I open my eyes to at least acknowledge her presence, but she's gone. I heard something, but I didn't recognize what it was at first. I realize it now. I glance downwards and Angeline is laying on the floor with a knife in her side, bleeding.

  What the fuck? I don't fucking understand. What the fuck happened?

  I look up. Standing to the side is Chastity Fucking White. What the fuck is that bitch doing here?

  "Noah," she says in her frantic, whiny voice. "I stopped her. I saw what she was doing to you. I'm sorry I couldn't stop her sooner, but I didn't have a chance. I was hiding and waiting and I jumped in as soon as I could, and..."

  Chastity stabbed Angeline. Chastity Fucking White stabbed Angeline. What, the, fuck. Who the fuck does she think she is? She fucking stabbed her! Seriously, fuck, I want to kill this fucking bitch. I want to fucking rip out her throat. I want to...

  Fuck...

  I convince myself to calm down with one soothing fucking thought. It's not fucking soothing, though. I grab at my wrist and fumble with the straps binding my arm to the table. I pull. I fucking pull with all my might and the table shakes and staggers. This fucking table is lucky it's fucking bolted to the floor, because otherwise I'd fucking rip it off the ground while my hand was still strapped down, and I'd fucking bash Chastity White over the head with the entire fucking thing.

  This isn't a useful thing to do. Calm the fuck down, Noah. Think about this shit.

  I manage to unstrap my wrist, but my finger is still stuck. The wedge is pushed in against my fingernail. I scrabble to loosen the strap, but it's hard. There's blood everywhere. My fingers are bloody as fuck. What the fuck do you expect? I just lost four fingernails. I fucking asked her to do it. Out of all the fucking times Chastity White could have shown up, she showed up at the worst possible one.

  She tries to help me. Her hands are on mine, trying to help me undo the strap.

  I swear to fucking God, Chastity, if you don't get your goddamned fucking hands off of me...

  I slap her hands away, but she hovers near me. She's standing over Angeline like she doesn't exist, like she's already fucking dead. Get the fuck away from her, Chastity. My hand is free now, finger is loose. I rip it away. The nail catches in the belt and I roar out in pain.

  I don't fucking care. I'm in a whole lot of pain, but almost n
one of it is physical. I will fucking tear off my fingers if I have to. I don't even fucking want them.

  What the fuck did she do! That fucking whore.

  Chastity tries to come to me to comfort me. When she opens her arms to embrace me, I slam my palm onto her throat. My bloody fingers wrap around her neck and I squeeze. I stare into her face as her eyes begin to bulge.

  I want to kill her. I want to rip out her fucking throat and throw it against the wall, separate from the rest of her body. She's really fucking lucky that I don't.

  I stand up and slam her into the chair instead. She sits, confused. I let go of her throat and she gasps for breath. Bloody fingerprints mark where my fingers used to be. She moves her hands to her throat as if this will help her somehow. Guess what? It won't. Fuck off, Chastity.

  I slam her hand down onto the table and deftly strap it into place. She stares at me and shrieks. I love the way she screams out her fear. It's fucking music to my twisted mind. She tries to fight against me when I grab her other hand. I slap her across the face.

  "Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up," I say.

  She does the exact fucking opposite. What a goddamn whore. This fucking slut.

  I slam her other hand onto the table and strap that into place, too. I move behind the chair, grab her head, and forcefully pull it back so I can latch a strap around her forehead, too. She cries and fucking screams.

  She can fucking cry and scream all she wants. I don't fucking care. You know why?

  I'm not even going to fucking do anything to the bitch. I have better shit to do. Once she's trapped and bound, I leave her.

  "Noah, what are you doing? I came to help you! I stopped her from hurting you... don't you understand? We're free now. We can escape..." She fucking whines at me like a useless fucking naive college bitch. That's exactly what the fuck she is, so it makes perfect sense.

  "Fuck off," I say. "I didn't ask for your help. I didn't fucking want your help. You don't fucking understand and you'll never understand. Just sit there, shut the fuck up, and leave me the fuck alone."

  Chastity lets out this sickening whimper and I want to fucking backhand her, but I don't have time. Kneeling, I carefully slip my hands under Angeline's still body, cradling her in my arms. Gently, I stand up. What the fuck am I doing? Who the fuck is going to help us? The whole fucking world is against us, and probably for a good fucking reason.

  We aren't good people. We're not nice. We're vile and vicious and fucked up. We're twisted and wrong. We are fucking sick and there's no cure for the type of disease we have. There's no cure except for this, no cure except to die, but I don't want that to happen.

  I growl into Angeline's ear. "You can't fucking die," I say, throaty and rough. "I'm not going to let you die. I forbid you from fucking dying, love. I'll fucking kill you if you die."

  Yeah, fuck off. That makes no sense. Fuck you. She's been hurt enough. I'm not going to let this shit happen anymore. We all get hurt. We hurt people and we get hurt. I'm tired of it. I don't want to hurt people anymore. I'm sorry. I'm fucking sorry.

  I don't know who the fuck to pray to. No one in their right mind would ever listen to me.

  *** Chastity

  I knew what she was going to do. I followed her and Noah sometimes and I saw what she did to him. I found out, and I couldn't let it happen anymore. Why was she so horrible? What did Noah ever do to her?

  So I waited and I watched. She took him into the room they said was her bedroom. I wasn't allowed in there, but I tried to go anyways. I pulled on the doorhandle, but it was locked and the door refused to budge. What sorts of terrible things was she doing to him? Was she torturing him? She was going to hurt him, and I knew it, but I was powerless to stop her.

  I waited and watched. She left me to wander the halls of her house, but this was a bad idea on her part. I discovered things, and I learned from it. She kept weapons hidden in the house. I found that out by accident, but it was useful to know. I found a knife that was easy to hold. Now all I needed was a chance to stop her.

  She took Noah to her torture chamber, holding his hand like they were friends. Of course they weren't! Anyone could see that. He was too hurt to stop her, though. I promised myself I would save him and end this.

  I followed them and I took the knife with me and I waited. I slipped into the room when she wasn't looking and I hid in the shadows. She was too busy staring with disgust into Noah's eyes to notice me. How could she hate him so much? Noah wasn't a bad person. I just knew he wasn't, but I didn't know how she couldn't see it? She said he would hurt me, so she was going to hurt him instead?

  I watched and almost cried out in alarm when she started ripping out his fingernails. The worst part was it looked like she made him ask her to do it. What kind of sick person was she? The things she was doing to him were so horrible and wrong.

  I waited and I watched and eventually I had a chance to jump into action. Noah closed his eyes and she leaned in close after she finished ripping out the last of his nails.

  I stabbed her. I held the knife in my trembling hands and I shoved it as hard as I could into her side. She didn't move at first. Was she dead? I thought about pulling the knife out and stabbing her again, but then she fell to the floor in a heap.

  I won! Noah, we won! She was dead! I killed her and we were free now and we could leave together. We could be with one another. I saved him and now he would love me so much.

  I tried to tell him this and I tried to hug him tight and let him know everything would be alright, but...

  He choked me. He shoved me into the chair. He strapped me in so I couldn't move. What... what was going on? What was he doing?

  "Fuck off," he said. "I didn't ask for your help. I didn't fucking want your help. You don't fucking understand and you'll never understand. Just sit there, shut the fuck up, and leave me the fuck alone."

  What did he mean? I stared at him, my bottom lip trembling, tears covering my cheeks and snot dripping from my nose. Noah, what's wrong? Why don't you understand?

  He bent down to pick that woman up. What, why? Why was he helping her? I cried and begged and pleaded with him to understand. She wasn't nice. He shouldn't help her. Put her down, Noah. Come back. Help me. Save me. I saved you. I helped you. I came for you.

  He didn't listen. I struggled to scream but my voice turned into a garbled mess of guttural nonsense. I couldn't speak. I couldn't do anything but cry and scream and watch him carry her away.

  I watched and waited, but I didn't know what I was waiting for anymore. Why was this happening?

  *** Noah

  My fucking hand hurts. This fucking shit hurts so fucking bad. I try to ignore it, but I can't. It hurts more because I'm doing every fucking thing I can to carry Angeline through the halls. Where the fuck do I go? Is there a goddamn phone here? I need to call for help. Send a fucking ambulance. Get me a fucking doctor.

  I shout and curse, spewing forth a constant stream of obscenities. Fuck shit fucking whore asshole fucker prick hell bitch slut. What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck good is this going to do?

  One of them comes. Some fucking guy. He's probably one of the ones she keeps here. Fuck you, buddy. Yeah, maybe your mistress is dying over here, but fuck you if you think that's a good thing. I'll fucking kill you if you try to escape. You can't fucking leave.

  How the fuck am I going to kill him? How the fuck am I going to stop him from doing whatever the fuck he wants? I can't. There's no way. It's impossible right now.

  There's more of them. They all come. Maybe not all of them. I don't know how many there are. Fuck. Fuck you. I stare at them like a rabid fucking dog, ready to snap and pounce and sink my teeth into their fucking throats until I saw through their jugular and they die.

  One of them comes up to me and I want to punch him in the fucking face, but my hands are full. They never fucking talk. What the fuck is this asshole going to say now? Gloat over Angeline bleeding out on the floor? I'm leaving a goddamn breadcrumb trail of her b
lood in the hallway. She's fucking dying.

  "Come," he says to me. "Hurry.

  "Who the fuck are you?" I ask. It's not much of a question.

  He says some shit to a few of the others. It sounds impressive. Who the fuck is this guy?

  Once he's done ordering people around, he turns back to me. "Do you want to save her?"

  I stare at him like he's a fucking idiot. "What the fuck do you think?"

  He smiles. "Good. Come, then. Hurry. We don't have a lot of time."

  I don't know if I trust him, but I don't have a lot of options, either. I follow him through the halls. He guides me to somewhere. Fuck if I know where we're going. I haven't been given free reign of the place, so the entire fucking house is a mystery. I might as well be in a mirror maze at a carnival.

  Angeline is breathing. I can feel her breathing in my arms. She's bleeding and her eyes are shut, but she's still alive. We need to get this fucking knife out of her. I can't just pull it out, though. She'll bleed more. She's bleeding enough as it is. She needs this.

  I don't know why the fuck I do what I do, but while I hurry the fuck down the halls and cradle her in my arms, I bend my head down close to her wound. I lick at her side, tasting her blood. It's what dogs do, right? They lick each other's wounds? How the fuck does that work?

  She loves it. She loves blood. I didn't understand it, but maybe there's more to it. Maybe it wasn't about being a sick fucking psychotic bitch freak, you know? Yeah, it's fucked up, and I think anyone can admit that. Angeline pretty much said as much herself. She understood how fucked up she is. Just because you understand something doesn't mean you can stop. Smokers know cigarettes are bad for you, but what the fuck do they keep doing every chance they get? They go outside and they fucking smoke their cancer sticks. Everyone's got issues. Everyone has a vice.

  Maybe Angeline isn't so bad, though. Maybe it's her way of being loving. I kind of think it is, too. She wasn't mean about it. Mostly. I mean, she did fucking bite my lip and then slam my head against a wall and beat the shit out of me while licking and kissing blood off my mouth. Those were fucking love taps. Also, I was being a fucking asshole. Not sure what else to fucking say about that.