I shake my head again. I’m not finished at all. It’s like they’re not even my tears anymore. I’m weeping with no way of stopping them, and no real desire to try. Whoever, or whatever is inside me just keeps coming, battering my heart with hurt and pain. And the only thing I can hear is his name being repeated. Jack, Jack, Jack. I don’t know what it means, and I can’t stop it.
“Yes, you are,” he says, grabbing the back of my jeans and heaving on the denim until I slide across the wood in his grasp. I don’t try to fight. I just keep my eyes closed, for some reason allowing his power to take me wherever he chooses as more tears come. They almost feel like blood dripping along my skin now. They’re thick and hot, swelling my eyeballs beneath closed lids and binding them together.
“Take your clothes off.” My head shakes again, barely hearing his words over my sobs as his hands leave me, but understanding them nonetheless.
“I don’t… don’t want to,” I stutter between more choked breaths.
The recourse for saying no seems to enforce more anger because I’m tugged and pulled instantly, my body straightened with little care for my wellbeing as my clothes are torn off. There’s nothing seductive in his manner, nothing romantic, not like our earlier encounter. He strips me with no care or thought, and all I seem to be able to do is allow it, not caring for the naked eventuality of his hand’s work as my frame slumps to the floor. It just causes me to curl tighter again, hoping to stop the tears somehow, or at least find some comfort from them.
Jack
Again his name whispers itself in my mind. It’s so full of love, spoken with an endless sense of eternity to it. It’s not my voice; it’s softer than mine, but it makes my lips twitch between my sniffs and snivels as I open my eyes. It makes them want to rise into a smile and denounce the tears I’m crying. I don’t understand.
“Knees,” he says, calmly now, all anger dissipated from his voice and a kinder tone filtering in. My flat smile develops of its own accord as I stare at the floor, remembering the man who made love to me by the stairs as I feel myself pushing upwards. Knees. I know what that means. I don’t know how I know, but I do. It’s confusing, but so simple when I try not to think.
Jack.
His shirt drops by my head as I brace my hand out and draw my knees together. It brings with it his aftershave and that power he radiates. I stare at it, wondering what’s happening to me as my fingers drag me towards it and gently grasp the hem. I heard that name this time. Heard it loud in the air. I look around the floor and bring the shirt to my nose, inhaling him into me. Deep, cleansing breaths wash across me instantly, ridding me of the last tear that wants to come and finishing the sobs.
“Trousers.” It’s another order I know the answer to without thought. My hands discard the shirt smoothly, wrapping it over itself and folding it peacefully onto the floor.
He doesn’t move to me from his position some three or four feet away. He waits, his black shoes shining at me as I look at his body for the first time in all of this. He’s so tall from down here. His stance exudes confidence, arrogance even. I don’t want to question anything anymore, though. I don’t want to leave, or run. I don’t want to question his authority, or his control. I, or whatever other voice is inside my head, wants to be here. I want to see this, be part of it. I’ve never done anything like it, but for some strange reason it all feels natural, like an evolution I’ve already been a part of before this moment.
My hands skim his legs, letting the fabric of his trousers remind me of something I’m not sure about. It resonates, though. The dark brown, thick cloth feels familiar in my fingers as I let them linger on his shin. There’s such a sense of love burning through me. It travels my bones like wildfire, crowding me with so much emotion I’d fall back but for his hold on my chin. His lips stay static as I gaze at him and feel shivers begin to wash across me. His lips don’t move as he stares back down at me, but his eyes smile a little, one brow slightly cocking as they do.
The silence continues as I brace my knees, becoming more comfortable here by the second as the irrational love consumes all thought.
“Take them off before I remind you what happens when you disobey.”
I don’t know what that means, but the quiet authority and threat in his voice has me racing to get to his belt rather than lingering in the love I was feeling. My fingers shudder and quiver as I try to loosen the thing, grappling with it so as not to cause harm to his skin. He grunts quietly above me as I stare at nothing but the brown leather, strangely intrigued by the supple feel of it in my hands as I thread it from the buckle.
It doesn’t take long to lever the material from him, shoes too, and then he just stands there, naked and gloriously solid in the middle of this vast empty space, waiting for something. I flick my eyes between him and the floor nervously, trying to hear the voice in my head that tells me what to do. But that’s empty too all of a sudden. There’s no love anymore, no warmth, no sense of direction and no offering of that support I was getting used to. It’s just vacant of thought, other than trepidation again as he watches me kneeling before him and scowls.
“You know what to do,” he eventually says.
I don’t. I don’t know what to do. I search for the thought again, hoping there’s an answer somewhere. There isn’t. It’s just a void—a void that’s beginning to remember what scared feels like. It’s creeping up my ribs and bruising my skin, worrying me into seeing someone who’s not here. I know this is Jack, but it’s starting to feel like Lewis is here, frightening me again.
Jack.
Did I say that? My fingers touch my lips, struggling to remember speaking as I glance around the room looking for someone else. Nothing moves, and I swing my eyes back to him to see the beginnings of a smirk tracing his lips. “Think, Selma. Quickly.” Who?
I stutter out breaths, unsure. I remember that name, though. It swims around inside me like a haunted memory of another time or another place. It may be a dream, but it’s real. I’ve heard it a thousand times and yet I can’t quite picture it ever being used. There’s no memory of locations or dates, no memory of touch associated with it. No visions. And nothing to help me remember it other than him using the name.
“I don’t remember—”
I cry out as his hand grips my hair harshly, dragging me down to the floor and stamping loudly by my ear as he does.
“No!” I scream out, desperately trying to avoid his unexpected fury as he growls in my ear and pushes my weight away. My legs scrabble away from him, real fear reducing my whimpers to ones of horror as I head for the doorway.
He laughs behind me. It rumbles through the room, reverberating off the floor beneath my hands and knees as I keep scurrying.
“Where do you think you’re going, baby?” I keep going, hoping the door arrives faster than I know it will. “We’re far from finished in here.”
I pick myself up, feet scuffing the wood as I reach my arms for the doorway and lengthen my strides to get away. He’s grabbed my stomach and is hauling me backwards before I’ve managed four strides, his wide arm wrapping me back into his hold regardless of my struggle.
He laughs out, amused at me as he walks back the way I came. It doesn’t matter how much I struggle or how much I twist in his arms, he just continues chuckling and then drops me to the floor again in the same position I started in. “We’ll start again. You know what to do.”
I don’t.
I look at the floor, terrified by his amusement as I tremble beneath him. I’m so scared—scared of what I’m feeling, scared of what he wants. And I’m so cold and lonely here, no matter the voice that was talking in my head.
“Look at me,” he snarls. I can’t. I’m too afraid.
He wrenches my chin upwards and raises his other hand into the air. I’m so sure he’s going to hit me that I cower away from him, tucking my face into my neck and lowering myself further towards the floor until my nose is by it. He chuckles, gently putting his finger beneath my chin again an
d inching me back towards him.
“I’ve never hit you before, have I?”
I flick my eyes back and forth, searching for something to let me know if he has or not. How would I know? He’s never hit me, no, but it isn’t just me inside my head anymore. There’s someone else there now, too.
Jack, help us.
“Help me.”
I shake my head at my own voice whispering the words into the air. I don’t know what they mean, or why I’ve said them. They’re not my words. I didn’t want to say them. They just came out, spilling into the air as if I have no control in this room. “This isn’t real,” I whisper. “Something’s not right here.”
“Everything’s perfect. You’re perfect. Talk to me. We’ll find our way together.” His fingers glide up my thigh again, teasing their way to the place that needs them most. “You need to tell me why you’re here.”
I stare into the dull light from the huge windows, splinters of white filtering in and then starting to dissipate back to a dull grey in the room. It draws me to it, focusing me onto something that I can’t quite grasp. “Don’t you leave me,” he says, a slight crack in his voice that makes me turn my cheek into his face as he tightens his hand on my waist. “I’m not letting you go this time. You’re coming home where you belong.”
My own hand travels to his face, stroking the side of it as I gaze into something familiar and try to seek sense. There isn’t any to find.
I can’t think anymore. It’s all too confusing. I’m here on the floor, naked, with a man wrapped around me and no sense involved in any of it. My legs try to push me up from my knees, but his body clamps tighter around me as the light decreases again.
“Do I need to fuck you into remembering?”
Oh god, that language. It’s suddenly so clear again. His tone, the way he moulds a cadence around his dirty talk. It’s so memorable. So resonating. But I’ve never been here before. I don’t…
My head shakes again, wishing I remembered clearly. “I...”
His hand clamps around my mouth tightly, shoving me into the mirror again and widening my legs as he manoeuvres himself behind me.
“You’re not leaving me.”
It all happens so quickly, as if I’m not even a participant for a few minutes. He’s just there inside me, his cock buried with no movement from either of us. And it fits so perfectly, as if it was made to sit inside just me. The heat of my breath tickles back at me from his hand covering my mouth, and a residual memory of being trapped or tied in some way ebbs into my brain. It should frighten me, but it doesn’t. It floods me with serene thoughts as his grip tightens to painful.
“Are you ready for more?” he says, his tone gravelly as he breathes heavily against my neck and pushes my shoulders into the mirror further. “How much do you need to remember us?”
My skin still prickles. I can feel it heating my flesh as his body chafes against it and shoves me into a wider position. “Rougher? Shall I choke it out of you?”
I wish I could say my eyes widen in fear, or that my body reacts as a normal one would to the threat of pain, but neither of those things happen. Instead, my insides clamp his cock, surprising me and making me drool against his fingers.
“There you are again,” he says, a chuckle barely skimming his words. He slides himself out a little, causing a whimper to leave my lips as I stare at his reflection. He doesn’t remove his eyes from mine as he teases the edges of me, giving me nothing to clamp onto again. “You always were best at releasing when treated like this.” He rears back away from me, his eyes looking at my back as he watches his own cock glancing in and out with no pressure. “Perhaps you’ll remember when we talk. I’ll draw your bath, just like I always do.” What?
I hover against the mirror, my hands still fixed to it like some sort of glue is holding me in place, and I listen to the dull echo of his feet leaving me, still yearning for him inside me again. But he’s gone without another word to explain any further. And I ache here, deprived of him. My mind’s confused. My limbs feel cold suddenly, almost lost without his heat wrapped around me. And my brain is muddled, unfocused. The only thing I can feel with any clarity is the sense of loss that seems attached to my soul at his departure.
Chapter 13
Madeline
E Ventually, I slump back down onto my backside, still staring at the door and wondering where he’s gone and why. A bath, like he always does? I skim the floor with my hand then tentatively pull my fingers across the back of my thigh, still feeling his skin on mine somehow. And I can’t stop my own hands from wandering my body, testing areas to make sure I’m real. My skin is prickly, as if it’s restless for something. Twitching almost.
“Jack.”
The name is so loud and clear that I swing my head around to search for whoever called it out, my naked body stumbling back to rest against the mirror as I do. There’s someone else here. Her. It’s the same voice that was in my head.
My eyes rapidly search the space, tracing the outline of the great ballroom for anything that moves, but nothing’s there. Nothing. It’s just dark and still. I look again, curling my legs up into myself and then pushing myself up the mirror to get to my feet.
“Is someone here?” I ask quietly, almost stupefied at my own idiocy as I tentatively step out into the room. There’s no response. No light blinding me. No voice or memory in my mind like there was before. “Who are you?” Nothing again.
I look up to the chandeliers lining the path of the middle section, watching for their crystals to move or perhaps for a wind to burst through the room. Nothing happens there either. Oh, this is pathetic. Do I think there’s a ghost here or something as ridiculous as that? I pull in a long breath, brushing down the front of my naked skin in an attempt to rid myself of whatever lunacy is happening in this house. I need to leave. Whatever, or whoever, was in my mind has no place being there. And the sooner I’m out of here, the better. Draw me a bath so we can talk? Jesus. We just had sex again. There is nothing here but an attractive man and a slightly weird sensation that seems to happen around him. I need to get back to my real life. Normal.
I shake my head at the room and walk backwards to the doorway, still watching for any movement at all as I flick my eyes around. Again, though, nothing happens as I retreat to the set of large doors, only a cold draught filtering across my calves and feet. But the draught begins to intensify the closer I get to the exit, nearly freezing my feet and whipping up the side of the room as I hurry away from it.
I’m frozen to the spot instantly as the deep red curtains billow, lifting into the space and creating a burst of ghostly shapes from beneath them. My heart races as I stare in terror at what’s happening, trying desperately to move my feet. But I can’t shift again, like I’m stuck in a damn vortex that won’t let me go.
Maddy?
Who the hell is that?
I swing my head from side to side, looking for the woman who speaks so clearly to me to find nothing but empty space and a few lights illuminating the outer edges of the room.
I need you, Maddy.
Breath pants out of me as I watch in mystification, the billow of the curtains trailing off and sending a covering of frost across the floor towards me instead. If I could run, I would. If I could scream, I would, but I can’t do either. I’m just frozen and staring in disbelief as a wealth of warmth rushes over me regardless of the ice travelling over the sprung floor. It hovers for a moment, creating a slight crackling on the wood three metres in front of me. Again, I try to back away, tugging at my own weight to lift the pads of my feet as I wrap my arms around myself, but they refuse the movement. I’m just stuck to the spot with nowhere to go.
Slowly, the frost peters away, changing direction and heading for the mirrors, which causes a sigh of relief to spill from me. I watch as it creeps over the floor slowly, all the time producing a pattern of icicles to spread the effort forward until eventually, it reaches its destination, leaving anticipation hanging in the air as to what’
s next. My mouth opens. I’m not sure what for. I feel like I want to ask a question, though. What’s happening? Who she is? How is she able to talk to me? What does she want?
I find myself shaking my head again, dismissing the irrationality and trying to lift my feet again instead. Ghosts? This is just some odd frost. More than likely because of a sudden weather change outside. I just need to get to the door, that’s all. Then I can leave. Regain some composure.
The thoughts make me heave on my foot again, hoping it releases this time as I hear Jack’s voice somewhere though the door. Whatever is in this room isn’t real. It can’t be, no matter what I’ve just been through. It’s this house, that’s all.
“Thank god,” I murmur, as my foot eventually lifts and I gingerly move the other one, assuming that’s free, too. It comes loose just as easily, allowing my first step of my own free will since the curtains started swelling from an unknown source.
I turn, ready to leave this madness and make a run for the exit. Exquisite he might be, and infuriatingly intriguing, but none of this is what I need in my life. I need stability not lunacy. My quick walk has me almost at the double doors before a gust of wind slams them closed in my face, almost knocking me off my feet with the intensity of its speed. I grab at the handles, wrenching at it in the hope that it budges, but there’s nothing.
I back away again, rapidly, wrapping my arms around myself once more and searching for another exit or way out. There’s only the other set of doors at the far end. My feet halt as the freezing temperature increases around them, making me check the floor for ice getting too close.
“Madeline?” Jack’s voice calls loudly through the doors. “Open the doors.”
“Jack, I can’t,” I shout back, skirting the outside of the room to keep me away from the frost and heading towards the oak doors at the other end. My head swings back and forth as I move, constantly checking for new visions and threats. “They’re stuck. What’s going on?” I turn on the spot, staring up to the other end of the room and gauging how fast I can get there. It’s a fair distance, and the light seems to be bouncing again, dark then light. “I’m going for the other doors.”
The Spiral Page 15