by Bea Paige
She grips my broken jaw, forcing me to face her. Forcing me to see the intent behind her eyes. “There was a time you adored fucking me, Erik. You sunk into me like I was someone you loved. You made love to me…”
I flinch, and she laughs out loud. “You actually loved me? Oh my God, you stupid, stupid man.”
“No, that wasn’t love! It was infatuation, lust. Never love,” I spit, ignoring the pain, the stars blurring my vision. I can’t bear that she’s right. I did love her.
“You say that like I should give a shit? Tell me, Erik, after everything you’ve experienced in here, in your life, you still believe love exists?”
“Why do you care?” I bite back, not willing to entertain her.
“Oh, I don’t, but I think you do. Tell me, who was Emmie? Did she break your heart like I did? You sure as fuck whimper about her when you’re so out of it in pain you don’t know what fucking decade you’re in, let alone what country.”
What the fuck?! She’s gotten deeper into my head than I’d realised.
“Perhaps not, hmm?” she says, tipping her head to the side. “Perhaps it was Ma? Or perhaps it was the bitch who spawned you and left you for dead on the steps of a hospital when you were a helpless, mewling baby?”
“FUCK YOU!” I shout, as pain lances my heart.
How the fuck does she know? How the fuck does she know all that? She rears backwards, yanks open the door to my cell and barks out a command to the soldier guarding the door then slams it shut. I hear the door lock and turn my head to face my nemesis. I want to look at the face of the woman who’s destroyed me. One last final stand against the darkness she harbours.
“I think we should fuck, for old times’ sake, Erik. Let me see how much you really hate me, hmm?”
“Fuck you!” I repeat, a cold calmness seeping into the room, but inside I’m screaming.
She begins to strip, a cruel smile lighting her face. Layer by layer, she removes her clothes, her intent clear. She really means to fuck me.
“NO!” I shout.
“No?” she responds, cocking her head to the side, her dark hair like a waterfall over her pert breasts. “You don’t want this?” she asks, running her hand over her breasts and flat stomach. “Let me love you one last time…” she murmurs. Her words are like black ink, they stain me with their darkness.
“You don’t know anything about love, you heartless bitch!” I snarl.
“Maybe that’s true, but it’s sure a lot of fun pretending. I spent eight months doing just that.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. How could I fall for it? I’d believed everything she told me. I had loved her. God help me, I had. But now there’s nothing about this woman I desire. Nothing. All I feel is a deep well of hate. It burns beneath my skin, it fucking rages. Flames crackle inside my chest as she climbs onto the bed I’m still strapped to and straddles my hips.
“Don’t!” I growl, bucking against the straps that tie me down. I don’t care that pain ricochets through every broken rib in my chest. I don’t care that the action causes all the little nicks and cuts on my skin to open and start weeping again.
I fight.
This one last time, I fight.
Because I will not be a victim of rape on top of everything else.
“Now, now, Erik. Don’t fight this…” she laughs, throwing her head back as she grasps my flaccid cock in her hand. “What am I saying? You can’t fight me. Look at you, helpless, weak, pathetic,” she spits.
FUCK.
YOU.
I buck my hips, jolting her, but she holds onto my cock, squeezing hard as her thighs clamp around my hips.
“Would you rather I chop it off? Make a eunuch out of you?”
I roar. The sound is unrecognisable, animalistic. Filled with rage and pain, anger and terror. If only I could free my arms, I’d squeeze the breath out of her. My hands curl into fists as she yanks at my cock, trying to elicit a response. Around us my music begins to play. It’s so loud I think my eardrums might burst, that’s if I don’t blackout first. Maybe that’s best.
“No, no, no. You’re not getting to check out on this one, Erik,” she smiles cruelly, squeezing my cock hard enough to bring me back into the present.
“Get the fuck off me!” I scream, my voice hoarse.
“No chance in hell,” she snarls back before leaning over and taking my cock between her lips.
“No! FUCKING BITCH!”
Stars prick my vision as I fight with everything I have left. I’m depleted physically. I’m mentally and emotionally exhausted. I’m beyond every type of pain you can imagine. But I can’t, won’t allow this woman to hurt me like this.
NO. FUCKING. MORE.
I buck, twist and turn, scream and roar as though that alone will hurt her like she’s hurting me. But she’s stronger than I am, and she hangs on, her laughter bubbling as she licks and sucks my cock doing everything in her power to bring it to life.
Falling back against the bed, I pant hard. Every breath is like the stab of a ten-inch knife slicing through skin and muscle. I’m breathing hard, not because she’s bringing me pleasure but because this is the worst kind of degradation. The worst fucking kind.
Bit by fucking bit, she’s ruined me.
“That’s it, Erik. Relax, enjoy this parting gift,” she hums around my cock, her snakelike tongue slithering over the delicate flesh.
A tear escapes my closed eyelid as she continues to suck me off. The sounds she makes disgust me and bile rises up my throat as she groans around my cock, finger fucking herself whilst she rapes me with her mouth…
Inside, the flames become an inferno.
Something deep within me emerges. Red mist clouds my vision reminding me of the boy I once was. Reminding me of the absolute destruction I’m capable of.
NO. FUCKING. MORE.
I’m no longer Erik, I’m no longer a man, but a beast, a monster, a fucking animal who survives on instinct alone. With one almighty push, I rear upwards, the strap across my chest breaks.
It fucking breaks.
I ignore every single lash of pain that rips through me.
I have one chance to end this bitch.
Grabbing her hair, I yank her off my cock and punch her as hard as I can in the face. Every single last drop of rage is poured into that punch and her cheek breaks under the impact, knocking her out instantly. I let her head go, pushing her body to the floor, then reach for the straps holding my legs down.
Everything hurts as I tug at the buckle. Eventually, finally, my legs are free.
Around me the music still plays, but somehow, I turn off my ability to hear. I tune it out, and with a bloodthirsty single mindedness I haul my legs over the side of the bed.
The second my feet touch the floor the room swims and my knees buckle beneath me. I slam into the concrete, right beside the woman I hate with a viciousness that can’t be contained. Shaking my head, I crawl across the floor, gritting my teeth.
I know I’m going to die today, but this bitch is going to die first.
Pushing her onto her back, I straddle her just as her eyes flutter open.
This time, I’m the one in control.
This time, I’m the one with all the power.
She opens her mouth to scream, but I slap her across the face, splitting her lip.
Whipping her head back around she smiles cruelly, her lips curving upwards.
“There he is. There’s the monster I always saw in you,” she sneers.
It’s the last thing she says before my hands wrap around her throat and I end her life.
Her nails claw at my arms, drawing blood, but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything.
All I want is revenge.
I want her dead.
I squeeze. My fingers digging into her skin, crushing her windpipe.
The last thing I see before I pass out is her lifeless eyes staring back at me, one lingering thought entering my head; to slay the devil you must become a monster.
So, here I am.
Anton – Present Day
After all this time we know the truth.
Ivan and I stand side by side. We’re both mute, shocked into silence by Erik’s story. I’ve always known there’s a thread of steel within Erik. My best-friend, my brother, the person I spent half of my youth loving and half of it loathing wasn’t just tortured physically, he was ripped apart mentally and degraded by a woman he’d loved. That love was used as a weapon against him whilst his gift was exploited in the worst possible way. She created a monster and died by its hand, there’s a certain kind of symmetry to that, however fucked up it might be. But I don’t give a shit about the woman who ruined him. The fact is, it has absolutely gutted me to know that Erik suffered this way. I knew he’d been tortured by a woman, but none of us had quite known the extent of his torture nor the fact that he’d once had a relationship with her.
Why must we always be hurt by those closest to us?
That thought alone is enough to prevent me from ever telling Erik how I spent many nights of my youth wishing him dead. Back then I’d been filled with a jealousy so poisonous that even though I adored him, loved him like a brother, I also despised him because he had my father’s attention. He had something that I longed for and it had torn me up inside.
How fucked up is that?
Yet, I look at Erik now, holding onto Rose and feel nothing but adoration, love and relief. Jealousy is a poisonous emotion that has no place between us. He deserves happiness, just like Ivan and Rose do. Like I do.
It’s taken me a long time to get to this place, years of self-reflection. And whilst I’ve never quite gotten over my father’s lack of affection towards me, I’m able to see through the eyes of a man and not a mixed up kid.
I remember that summer when Erik had returned from Kirkwall, well. He was a different person to the one who’d left, but despite knowing that something intrinsic had changed within him, the envy had still lived in my veins, poisoning my thoughts. He never spoke of what happened and back then I didn’t care so long as it meant he stopped playing the violin.
And he did, for a long, long time.
My father’s prodigy had disappeared the same time as his innocence had.
A few months after his return, Erik had joined the armed forces and I’d rejoiced thinking that I would finally gain back my father’s affection, his time and interest. Of course, that never happened.
I learnt a hard lesson during that period. It wasn’t Erik’s fault my father didn’t, doesn’t, love me. The only person to blame was the man whose blood runs in my veins. I also realised that my father didn’t deserve my adoration, but Erik has always deserved my affection, my friendship, my fucking loyalty. He believed in me and my ability as an artist when no one else did. He was the first person to pick me up when my father knocked me down. Even as a kid he collected my artwork and stuck it on his bedroom wall. He’s always been so fucking proud of me. That’s part of the reason I remain here now. Why I wait and watch and hope that my brother finds his way out of this nightmare.
Knowing the full story of how he suffered in Afghanistan only cements my need to repay his kindness and loyalty with my own. Right now, as Erik clings onto Rose, I bear him no ill will. There’s no jealousy. None. There is only a deep sense of brotherhood, of love.
“How did he survive it, Ant?” Ivan asks me as we stare at Erik sleeping soundly beside Rose. This has been as much of a journey for us both as it has for Erik and Rose. Watching them both unravel the hardest thing we’ve ever had to endure. I’m sure it’s been difficult for Ivan to see his Domina submit, to see Rose opening up to Erik in a way that she hadn’t been able to with him. All I know for certain is that despite that, Ivan adores her. She’s buried herself in his heart and I’m happy for him, for Rose, once she’s able to accept his love.
“All that torture… How did he endure it?” Ivan repeats.
“Fuck only knows, Ivan. How did either of them survive?” I respond, thinking about Rose and that bastard who abused her. There’s an inner strength that lies within them that is both brutal and beautiful to behold. They belong with each other, to us. “What I do know is that Rose is the key to everything. Our future lies just beyond this locked door, Ivan. If anyone can get Erik out of this cage, it’s her. After that it’s up to us all to make this work.”
“Ms Hadley is going to be a problem,” Ivan concedes, flicking his gaze to the open door and the farmhouse beyond.
He sighs heavily and I don’t need to look at him to know how affected he is by her hate of Rose. Even though she was my nanny, I’d never felt the same kind of affection towards her that Ivan does. My whole life she’d sided with my father and that alone made me wary of her. But to Ivan she’d been a surrogate mother. Ms Hadley is the only woman who’s remained a constant in his life. His numerous stepmothers never lasting long enough to leave a lasting impression.
“We’re going to have to figure out how to deal with her once Erik is freed from this prison. One thing I do know is that I won’t allow Ms Hadley to get between us. If she tries that shit again it’s not going to be pretty,” I add.
Ivan nods gravely, then wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. “I’m done with her.”
“Good, because Rose has been abandoned too many times, Ivan. We can’t let her down. She needs to understand that we have her back, no matter what.”
“I love her, Ant. I won’t let Ms Hadley get between us. I’ve been a fool giving her the benefit of the doubt. That ends today.”
I turn to Ivan and draw him in for a quick hug before letting him go. “I’m going back to the house. Watch over Rose for me,” I say, gripping his shoulder briefly.
“Until my last breath,” he murmurs, retreating into the darkness, just like I have so many times before.
Chapter 29
Rose – Present Day
A week passes. Erik doesn’t mention the violence and degradation he suffered at the hands of that woman and neither do we. Between us, we find a natural rhythm. There’s no sign of the monster who put that boy in a coma and strangled that bitch to death. There’s only a man who exists in this cage so he can never hurt another person again.
The thing is, whilst that boy didn’t deserve a life in a coma, his torturer deserved to die.
That bitch had it coming, and I for one am glad she’s dead.
I’m certain Ivan and Anton feel the same way too, though of course we don’t discuss it. Erik’s secret has been hard for us all to digest. He was tortured, beaten, psychologically pulled apart, raped. This man is strong beyond anything I ever thought possible. He survived a horrific ordeal, just like me.
I look at Erik through heavy eyelids, sleep still clinging on, blurring the edges. I miss his arms around me. I’ve become used to his needs this past week, his need to hold me when we sleep. The rope lays discarded in the corner of the room. Used only when an episode takes hold. On those occasions, I’ve tied myself to the bed, passing him the other end of the rope. It gives him security, a feeling of safety when nothing else can. We’ve found a way to manage the flashbacks and every time is a little less overwhelming for Erik, for me.
Right now, Erik is reading a dog-eared book, the spine cracked and broken, the leather binding frayed. His blonde hair falls forward, the length longer on the top than the side. I wonder, briefly, whether it lightens in the sun, whether his skin darkens or burns. I wonder if he misses the sea air, the salt spray, making love in the long grass like I imagine he did with Emmie before she betrayed him. I wonder who his mother was, and what made her abandon him. I wonder whether he wants to be inside me again, whether he wants to feel me come apart beneath him just as much as I do.
I wonder whether I could love him… love them all.
The fact that I’m even thinking about the possibility is enough of a wake-up call. Things have changed. I’m changing.
Sighing, I shift in the bed to get a look at Anton. He’s sitting in the plastic garden
chair, an upturned crate by his feet, drawing. When he’s not talking with us, he draws. Sketch after sketch after sketch. He uses charcoal, pencil, black ink. But no colour.
Sometimes he shares what he’s drawn with us, more often than not he slips them inside a folder. But the ones we get to see, they’re beautiful. They take my breath away. I know Erik appreciates them too. A few of them are even stuck with sticky tape to the glass walls. A couple are of Erik and me, others are of the landscape beyond the outhouse; the beach and a rough sea under moonlight. My favourite one is a portrait of Erik fast asleep in the armchair. He looks so peaceful, so untroubled. It’s easy to see him healed and happy when I look at that drawing. I want that for him.
“How is Mother today?” Erik suddenly asks Anton. It’s the first time he’s mentioned her since he saw her last.
“Much the same. Ivan’s concerned…” he says, choosing his words carefully.
“I know. Me too.” Erik sighs, heavy words of hurt hanging unspoken in the air between us all.
I want to say they shouldn’t give Ms Hadley the time of day, let alone their concern, but I don’t. As much as I despise the woman, she’s still Erik’s mother and even though I suspect she has bad intentions, I’ve no solid proof of anything. So, I keep my thoughts to myself. Those ones, and a few others.
“Rose really needs to get her knee looked at as well, Erik, but she’s stubborn. She won’t leave until you do,” Anton continues, clearly still under the impression I’m asleep.
“I know, Anton, and I’m sorry…”
“Me too, brother. Me too,” he responds with a heavy sigh.
Over the last week especially, we’ve become closer, all of us. Bound together now by the truths of our pasts. I pushed Ivan and Anton to reveal their truths… Erik has revealed his and now I’ve revealed mine.
All this time, Anton and Ivan have remained by our side, my side, taking it in turns to watch over us as well as babysit Ms Hadley. They bring food, clothes, essential items. We talk about everything and nothing; the weather, Ivan’s business dealings, Anton’s artwork, avoiding the important things like how long I’m going to stay in this cage with Erik? How long before Erik has another episode? How long they can keep Ms Hadley away? How long I can endure the pain in my body?