A Serenade of Fireflies

by Yolanda Olson

  A Serenade of Fireflies

  Yolanda Olson

  Copyright © 2019 Yolanda Olson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Prologue

  I’ve looked in the window longer than I should have, and I feel even more useless than the woman inside. He’s been beating her for the past half an hour and she’s smiling and seemingly telling him to hit her harder. At least that how’s the situation presents itself, because each time she attempts to get to her feet, he pushes her back down and she smiles up adoringly with her cracked lips and bruised cheeks.

  I don’t understand how something like that can be pleasurable, yet they both seem to be delighted in the act.

  It’s been four times now that I’ve come to their window every night and watched as he pummels her—sometimes with an open hand, sometimes with a belt, and sometimes with whatever happens to be handy.

  It’s sick, but they equally enjoy it.

  And I do too.

  I take a deep breath as my body begins to shake. I know I shouldn’t linger and I know I shouldn’t watch, but they intrigue me to the point that I keep coming back to see what he uses next.

  It’s a vice, what they share, and while I’ve never known an uncruel hand placed on my body, I find myself oddly needing to watch them for as long as I can without getting caught.

  I rub my clit faster and my breaths becoming shakier as he knocks her down again. Her body looks like it’s trembling and I don’t know how much more she can take.

  I bite down on my lip as she turns onto her back, a huge smile on her face. She’s holding something up to him—a gift it seems and he reaches down to take it with a smile, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. I can’t see what it is from here but I would imagine it being enough that he seems to have rewarded her with affection instead of another open hand.

  Hit her again, I request quietly as my breathing becomes more restricted, the pool between my legs becoming stickier as I slide a finger into my opening. I use my thumb to keep working my clit and when he does what I silently begged him for, my pussy begins to convulse as I finally reach my climax.

  A tired smile creeps across my lips and that’s when I decide I’ve watched long enough for one night, the evidence glistening on my fingertips as I hold my wet fingers up in front of me.

  It’s also when something dawns on me. As I put my fingers to my mouth and suckle the taste from them, I peer a little closer at the woman on the carpeted floor underneath him. Before he’s descended on her and shoved his cock into her like he’s done each night I’ve stood here and watched, I find myself becoming slightly confused.

  It’s not the same girl as the night before.

  The realization makes me turn away quickly and begin the short trek back home. I live no more than two blocks away, in a small one-story house and while I know that I can easily get my rocks off by watching some internet porn, I prefer live action.

  That’s my affliction.

  I accept it even though I don’t understand it. It’s who I become at night and his home is always the one I find myself at as the times goes on, watching him fuck and violently dominate the woman … women … inside as they beg for more.

  I only hope that someday soon, I can be one of them too.

  Chapter One

  The sun rises in the distance over the rows of houses and I smile tiredly.

  I didn’t sleep last night.

  How could I?

  After another night spent outside his window watching him punish and pleasure—the only reason I find myself venturing outside my home anymore these days—I find it hard to sleep.

  I rub my eyes as I lie down on my couch. My home isn’t big but it doesn’t need to be since it’s just me. I have no pets, nothing to care for, and nothing that cares for me in return.

  It’s how I’m happiest.

  A life lived in solitude makes a dangerous and desolate heart safe inside the girl that harbors it.

  That’s a lesson I learned when I was abandoned for the first time, and recited to myself as evening prayer the second time.

  It also made me realize that I’m better off alone because the sickness inside of me cannot be contained and I prefer not to hide my true self.

  But him … I want him.

  I need him.

  I want to be his to use once and destroy.

  I want him to end the affliction inside of me and I want him to finally make me be a good little girl just once in my life before he helps me.

  I need him to help me.

  No one else can and that’s the real reason I find myself outside of his window each night. Not because of the morbid curiosity I have watching him hurting those women, but because it’s the proof I need that I’ve finally found a monster that can do to me what I’m too afraid to do to myself.

  Now all I need is to find a way to get him to notice me.

  ***

  The noon hour has come and gone and I’m still on my couch staring at the cracked, white ceiling above me.

  Today will be the day I figure out how to approach him because I don’t feel like I have much time left inside of me.

  If it wasn’t spent for ways of thinking to die, I’m sure that my days would be boring and uneventful, but he sparked something in me.

  A will to live for no other reason than to face decimation at his hands.

  I can’t think of a better way than that, I muse with a small smile.

  I blow out my breath as I kick my feet off the couch and stand up. I can tell by the way that the curtains are struggling to keep the sun out, that it’s a bright, beautiful day and that will put me in a dour mood.

  I don’t find anything appealing about the world, nor do I find any beauty in it … not until I found myself outside of his window.

  “I wonder what his name is,” I say softly as I push one of the curtain slacks aside. I peer outside with one eye, careful to keep the rest of myself hidden in as much darkness as my home can afford me.

  I didn’t always used to be like this, but a simple, cataclysmic event was enough to turn a bright life into a downward spiral of shit in no time.

  I try not to think about it because it no longer matters.

  I died a long time ago, and the me that wakes up every morning, cursing the sunlight and hating another breath I don’t want to take, is a much different person.

  I don’t wallow in self-pity, though.

  I believe those that do are destroyed by it and besides, I don’t think it would be an attribute that would attract a man like him.

  Attraction.

  I never understood it, and I don’t think I properly ever will because I won’t allow myself the time.

  I sigh, ready to let the slack fall from my fragile fingertips, when I see something that perks my attention.

  There’s a delivery truck that’s moving slowly down the street. It goes past my home, the home next door, and continues going until it’s out of sight.

  I wonder.

  I walk quickly into my bedroom and slide my feet into some comfortable shoes, a gut feeling telling me that this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. I make a quick stop in the bathroom and tie my hair back in a loose ponytail,
then grab my favorite big pair of sunglasses off the kitchen counter as I make my way out of my house.

  It takes no time to reach his street and the truck is only just pulling away from the front of his home when I arrive.

  I hide behind a hedge, careful not to be seen by anyone that may be out enjoying the sun as I peer at his porch.

  And that’s when I see it.

  A small, brown square box ready to be stolen away and returned at a later date.

  Am I daring enough?

  Is this really what my soul desires? To be crushed under the heel of a man that I don’t know? One that might provide me with the endless torment and pleasure that I find myself suddenly drawn to?

  I take a deep breath as I move away from the hedge, glancing up and down the street.

  There’s only one way to find out.

  Chapter Two

  I push my hair behind my ears and take as calming a breath as I can before I raise my hand knock on his door. I almost lose balance of the package I’m holding, but a swift knee saves me from dropping it on the porch.

  I can hear a sturdy set of footsteps approaching and I have to force myself to swallow the nervous lump in my throat so that I don’t end up choking on it instead.

  There’s a slight movement on the other side of the window—the curtains being pushed aside to see who’s knocking on the door so early in the morning. I don’t glance over because if I meet his eyes before he opens the door, I know I’ll drop the box and run.

  The curtain swings lazily in the window as he lets it go after a few moments of inspecting me through the glass. If his touch feels anything like his gaze, then I’ll know I’ve done the right thing, and if feels as empty as I do, then I’ll do my best to pretend for the time I allow him to have with me.

  “Hi.”

  The curious voice snaps me back to the moment that I hadn’t even realized I had escaped from, and I glance up. He’s even more beautiful up close, I think as I bite my lower lip. He’s much taller than he looks from the nights I’ve spent standing outside his window watching. Common sense steps in to tell me that’s because he’s standing to his full height now and not with a belt in his hand hunched over a cowering woman, ready to strike again. His brown eyes are tired; I can’t tell if it’s from the possible activity of the night before that I may have missed, or if that’s how they always are. His lips are full, but not overly so and as he stands before me—shirtless, shoeless, and in a pair of plaid sleep pants, I have to fight the urge to reach out and touch him to make sure this is really happening.

  “Hi,” I echo softly.

  “Can I help you?” he questions.

  “Um, this is yours,” I state as I hold out his package, “it was dropped off at my house by accident I guess.”

  “Thank you,” he replies reaching for the box. I look into his eyes again and see that the careful curiosity they held have melted into warm, welcoming pools of milk chocolate and my knees begin to tremble slightly.

  I clasp my hands in front of myself as my eyes wander away from his gaze and over his shoulder for a moment, before I clear my throat. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll be on my way then.”

  I haven’t moved an inch; not even the slightest of centimeters, and he grins, leaning against the door-frame. “Did you need something else?”

  Yes.

  “No. Sorry to bother you,” I reply softly as I turn and make my way toward the five steps that led the way up to nirvana.

  I’ve come this far only to tuck tail and run.

  My shoulders slump as I put my hand on the railing and begin to descend the steps, and I’m sure my miserable aura is becoming thick enough to cause a turbulence shift in the air.

  “What’s your name?”

  The question stops me on the second to last step, my foot hovering a half an inch from the pavement below as I turn and glance at him over my shoulder. It takes him taking a step outside his front door for me to realize that he’s actually speaking to me and it’s not just another wish dying inside of my head.

  “Uh…” my breath comes out in an unsteady shake as I grip the railing tighter, the world threatening to begin spinning beneath me. I don’t understand why being this close to him is making me as nervous as it is, when it’s the one thing I’ve been craving night after night.

  “You have a name don’t you?” he asks as he sits down and watches me with amusement dancing in those milk chocolate orbs of his.

  “Yeah,” I say with a nervous laugh, “it’s George.” The look of immediate confusion, followed by the disbelieving smirk is something I’m used to at this point in my life. I sigh as I finally place my foot on the pavement and lean against the railing. “Go ahead; laugh—everyone else usually does.”

  He shakes his head as he sits down and places the palms of his hands on the porch, then leans back. His legs spread a little wider and I watch his leg methodically moving from side to side. It’s almost hypnotic and I think he knows it. “There’s nothing to laugh at. I’ve just never met a girl named George before is all.”

  “Oh.”

  Stop being so fucking timid or you’ll bore him.

  “What’s your name?” I ask, forcing an interested smile onto my face. It’s an honest question because I never bothered to look at the package I’ve held hostage for two days now.

  The only thing I’m truly interested in is what he can do to me behind those doors, but I have to gain his favor first and that’s going to be the hardest thing of all. I’m not very inclined to speak much to anyone and here’s my euphoria; talking to me without a care in the world and the only thing I can do is quiver like a stupid, inexperienced little girl.

  It’s probably because that’s exactly what I am.

  “Duran,” he replies, a smile slipping over his lips. “Now it’s your turn to laugh.”

  “Why would I laugh?” I ask in confusion.

  His smile slips slightly as he quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t know the band?”

  “No,” I reply softly, tucking my hair behind my ear again.

  He lets out his breath in a rush as he shrugs. “Okay, that’s a little strange, but most people are, right?”

  I nod, lowering my eyes to the ground.

  I hate myself for being such a quiet little mouse right now, but again, I didn’t exactly have a speech prepared.

  “I’ll see you around then, George,” Duran finally says.

  I glance up at him and notice that he’s gazing pointedly toward the side of his house.

  The side where the magical window sits that leads into nirvana and that’s when the realization stabs me in the chest like a murderer’s blade.

  He knows.

  Chapter Three

  I’ve been home for some time now with my heart in my throat. I stripped my clothes off as soon as I arrived and am sitting in my bathtub as the water progressively turns colder.

  I feel like such a dirty girl.

  He knows that I’ve been watching him almost every night after night, and with his glance at the window where I stand, I take as an invitation. Had he not wanted me to continue my taking in his work, he would have shooed me off and told me to never come back, but he didn’t.

  He wants me to watch, I think, a small smile creeping across my lips. He wants me to watch because he wants me to know what he likes.

  As I wrap my arms around my legs, I sigh. I haven’t thought of another reason to go back to his home and it’s been three days since we last—and first—spoke to each other. Stealing another package would be much too obvious, and I’ve stayed away from the windows since I came back home.

  I can’t get him off my mind, though and that’s when I sit in my tub. It’s an attempt to cleanse myself of the dirty feeling and it fails each time.

  The only thing that will make me feel whole is Duran.

  My smile widens slightly now that I know something about him other than how brutal he can be, and it’s something he told me on his own.

  Something he wanted me to
know; something very personal and that tells me that he wants me too.

  I rest the side of my face on my arm and stare at the white, small square tiles that make up my bathroom walls until they turn into nothing. I don’t want to sit here and linger much longer because I know I have to go back soon.

  But for what reason?

  What can I possibly say to him that will allow me entrance into his home?

  I close my eyes when the walls are nothing more than white sludge sliding into oblivion and decide that tonight will be the first night of a new life.

  I’m going back to his home because I need to feel alive just once before I walk away from him forever.

  Chapter Four

  I’m dressed in a simple, pearl-colored robe. A large, silk belt is wrapped loosely around my waist and as I pull my hair back into a loose bun, I stare into my eyes and see nothing staring back at me.

  It’s how it always is, but I refuse to let it continue. Not when I have someone that I know is desperate to help me.

  I press the switch on the lamp in my bedroom as I turn away and walk toward the door. I have every intention of showing him that I’m not the simple, stumbling girl that showed up on his doorstep to return something that I had obviously stolen.

  I want him to see me for what I am.

  The fragile minded and soul shattered girl that needs to be fixed in a way that only he can provide.

  “Hello, I’m sorry to disturb you this evening, but I was hoping that I could talk to you about something.”

  I smile as I practice my mumbled words on the way into the living room where I slip my feet into a pair of black ballet shoes. Once I’m feel fully prepared, I walk toward the door of my home and turn to glance at it over my shoulder one last time.

  I’ll miss this place.

  ***

  The walk to Duran’s home takes much longer than it should because my feet are dragging. I want to move faster but my heart wants me to fight this feeling—it wants to survive to see dawn of the next day, but I refuse.