Gothic Bunnies!
Here's chapter 9 of The Endless. I will warn that this chapter is a tid-bit more intense than the previous ones. Very adult-themed. That being said, I have to give credit where credit is due: All the lyrics in this chapter are not mine, they are from the song Butterfly by Tapping the Vein.
Title: The Endless (I now hate this title, but have decided to stick with it)
Genre: fantasy/horror/drama/smut/comedy/randomness
Rating: G to R to NC-17…for blood/violence/explicit sex (later, sorry)/angst/pain/and anything else I can think of
Summary: You’ll just have to read it. (;
Oh, okay! Bam is a vampire and Ville is out to slay him. (in an effort to promote myself, I finally cave and write a summary)
POV: Alternating between first person Bam and first person Ville
Pairing: VAM, eventually, with lots of implications of other pairings.
Author’s Note: Every song I list on here is something that influenced me in some way while writing the chapter. Either the song goes with the mood or events in the chapter, or I obsessively listened to the music on repeat while writing. Or, I borrowed lyrics.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Bam (or friends), Ville, Lauri, or the members of HIM. I have never been to Philadelphia, and one of my best friends invented Kamilah. Jaied, other random characters, and the events of the story, however, are my creation and I OWN them. ;)
Prologue: http://swampwitch9666.livejournal.com/520.html#cutid1
Chapter 1 and 2: http://swampwitch9666.livejournal.com/815.html#cutid1
Chapter 3: http://swamptwitch9666.livejournal.com/1189.html#cutid1
Chapter 4: http://swampwitch9666.livejournal.com/1339.html#cutid1
Chapter 5: http://swampwitch9666.livejournal.com/1708.html#cutid1
Chapter 6: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/1367385.html
Chapter 7: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/1379765.html
Chapter 8: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/1417375.html
Chapter 9:
(Ville)
Jaeid, please no. I wanted to scream.
His body was pressed hard against my back, his hands moving to the zipper of my jeans. I just leaned over the bed, trying to breath steady and silent: not too loud, not too hard…not too shallow or too fast. But my body couldn’t go numb like my mind and I found myself shaking as the jeans fell in a pool at my ankles.
Not this…not again. I wanted to resist him, to tell him “NO! This isn’t part of our deal!” But I knew there had been no true agreement between us, other than I serve him to keep my life. The rules I’d thought existed between us broke everyday, and this was only a reminder.
“Lie down on the bed, Jett.”
I comply, slowly at first, then in a blind rush as I feel a finger upon my thigh. I realize I am wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers, and he is still fully clothed. A sudden sting enters my head as I look up at him; there’s a shot of lightening every time I look in his eyes. I look at my dark silken sheets-soon there will be blood in my bed, and it will be mine. And later, I will add to it. There will be an ocean where once there was only a river.
Closer. He’s standing over the bed. Looming over me, he’s ready for the chase. Well, I can’t give him the satisfaction of that anymore. Fighting Jaeid only gives the man an excuse to ‘punish’ me. I won’t fight this anymore, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t enjoy it…
He is now on the bed, crawling toward me, over me, on top of me. I have no thoughts as he does this. I stare at the ceiling as he peels my boxers from my body.
His nails run up and down my thighs.
I stare at the bumps on my ceiling; there’s a crack up there.
Both of his hands are upon me now, moving close, so close…to my…
It looks like a butterfly, this crack in my ceiling. See the way it spreads out in both directions? Notice the straight line down the middle? It is almost completely symmetrical.
His fingers close around me, squeezing, pushing, and running up and down my length. I do not feel pleasure at his touch.
The butterfly…did it move? I just saw it! It was twitching a wing!
Pain. Pain! Shooting through everything. I don’t want to look as he bends his head down between my legs…wrapping his mouth around my cock. There is no pleasure, no thrill. I know he’s going to use his teeth.
I focus on the crack in the ceiling. Maybe it’s not a crack. They’re burn marks, or paint. I want to join it, whatever it is. I want to join that butterfly on the ceiling. I want to fly with him. I don’t want to be here anymore.
I close my eyes…and I see him floating there, above me. He is beautiful; he is blue and violet and his wings sparkle and shine as he moves through the air, each beat of his wings a pulse of light.
Oh…but now I don’t only see the butterfly. There is a face, the face of a man. He looks to me with loving, tender eyes of blue. I want so badly to run my fingers through the careless curls of his chestnut hair as they surround his beautiful smile. Now he is kissing me. He is the one touching me, and his touch does not cause pain. He is warm, his body caresses mine…and I…
I hold my breath inside to keep a sigh from escaping my lips.
Bam. Bam Margera. It must be a nickname! Who is he? What does HE want with ME? Why is he so kind? Why are his eyes so large and unsure when he looks at me? God! Why am I thinking about him, why now? Why, Jaeid, when it’s you that’s doing this to me? And all I can think about is Bam Margera and butterflies!
What Am I?
I Wish I Was A Butterfly I'd Fly And Fly
Until It Was My Time To Die
“Where are you?” He is angry. I can hear the malice in his now rough, frantic voice that is usually so smooth…so smooth it slides.
Its Creeping In Again
I Know What I Really Am
No More Pretty, Purple,
Peaceful Butterfly
I just keep my eyes closed. The butterfly is winking at me with his wings. I realize the butterfly is me…and I…I wish that this butterfly could be near Bam.
The butterfly stops. And flies away, as I open my eyes in sudden shock and pain.
He just sank his teeth into my right nipple, and I watch as he sucks the blood from the open wound. He stops for a moment, looking up at me, and I see he is smirking. His lips are red with my blood and his eyes are dark with a lust that I find disfigures his whole face. It is disgusting on him. He bends his head down again, biting even harder, and I try not to scream as the pain comes throbbing out of me like a drum, a river of crimson in my queen-sized bed.
Come See The Blood That's In My Bed
Come Hear The Things
That Nobody Talks About
Shut Up You Mouth
Shame On You
Butterfly…butterfly! Don’t fly away from me! The butterfly is leaving me! Well, of course! I was never beautiful like him.
Yet, Bam’s face is still there, eyes upon me. I don’t understand why he would stick around after seeing this…
How could it hurt so much? Where’s my high tolerance for pain? I hear a low mewling, like a lost kitten, and I realize my own throat has caused it.
“Jett, you’re awake!” He growls sardonically. My name is Ville Valo, you sick fuck! “I was starting to wonder…” He looks down, eyes blazing with bile.
He continues lapping the blood from my chest…I can’t believe how hard he bit me. He must have wanted to bite my nipple off!
“Turn on your stomach. I want you to tremble for me.” He is sitting up now, waiting for me to obey him. I would, but I can’t. Something inside me will not move. I hardly understood what he was saying. There are blue eyes, gorgeous blue eyes…watching me…Bam, you’re going to kiss my lips and then you will fall in love with me.
And then I will have to kill you.
Shame On Me
“Jett! Wake up! Didn’t I just tell you to turn around! Be a good boy, and I won’t have to tell you again.” Oh, I know you love it when I don’t respond to you. You like to think you can make me care. I feel hands, cold and rough, grabbing hold of my waist, and violently, angrily, pushing me to the side. Those same hands come to push again, pressing both of my hips to the bed. I can feel the warm blood trickle out of my chest and onto the sheet of my bed. He is now raising my hips, spreading my legs apart. Large, cold hands are grabbing my wrists and holding them together above my head. I try so hard not to shiver as I feel one of the most mind-numbingly cold, hard, and large penises pierce my opening like a sword.
Oh butterfly, come back.
He’s going to make me bleed…because he doesn’t care what this feels like. And I’m in no position to tell him. But, I’ve gotten so good at this over the past few years. I can pretend like it’s nothing, like I don’t feel the things I feel. I was once fool enough to convince even myself that I felt nothing.
And all I can think about is Bam. And, in my mind, I’m laughing like mad as Jaeid stabs me over and over, causing the pain to shoot through my brain with flying colors. But, in my heart…I’m crying out desperately as I wish for someone as seemingly gentle, as loving and respectful as Bam. He is so beautiful to me right now…Bam Bam. If only I could really see his face right now. Hmm…I actually smile, as I imagine him as Bam Bam, the little troublesome boy from the Flintstones. I wonder what he’d do if I called him Bam Bam. Would he laugh at me? Would he scowl? Would he light up like a lamp? Would I ever know?
Why? Why! Why do I have to murder the first person I’ve met in years that seems to genuinely care about people…about me?
He jerks his now limp penis out of me. Good for him. I’m so glad I could give him the pleasure of squirting his filthy cum all over me. I just lie there afterwards, unmoving. He is throwing his fancy clothes back on. I can hear the rustling of fabric as he does this, and his feet on the floor as he moves toward the door.
I feel sick…I feel so sick I think I could die…
Look At Me
I Wish I Was A Honey Bee
Anything, Anything Other Than
The Things I Have Been
I Slip Out Of My Skin
So I Don’t Have To Do It Again
Just A Passing Thought
And Your Filth Is Seeping In
I hear no noise, only silence that echoes. I lie and I wait, and after a few moments I try to sit. I look at my jeans in the floor, my black socks…the figure in the doorway.
He speaks, “I notice you’ve been researching to find a way to kill him. Jett, it’s simple. I told you to just light him on fire, after you get him to think you’re his friend, of course. And, what did I tell you about being cautious? Those were your books about murder cases I found on the steps. Why did you leave them there?”
Oh…my books. Where had he put them?
“They’re in the living room. Look, forget it. Just have him killed by March. You have a month, isn’t it February the second? If you succeed, well, it’s an understatement that I’ll be proud. If not, I’ll do it on my own, but you may not be very happy with yourself, at all. You know I won’t be.” He said ‘I’ with particular oomph (as if this was very, very important), his eyes shot daggers then, and I knew this was a definite threat.
At that, he left the doorway, and I heard as the front door slammed a few seconds later.
He’s gone. Gone for now, but he’ll be back. He always comes back.
So, I had all of February, the shortest month of the year, to murder Bam.
Murder. Bam. Murder. Bam. Murder…Bam…
Come Scrub My Hands
They Won't Come Clean
Come Sit With Me
While The Walls Press In On Me
Shut Off That Light
Shame On You
I run to my bathroom, pain shooting through my chest, my wrists, my ass…even places I didn’t know could hurt. I can’t think…I can’t feel anything but a vague sense of panic and a sick emptiness.
I walk through the bathroom door, and head to the sink. The cabinet above it has what I’m dying for. I jerk it open, grabbing frantically for the convenient little razorblade dispenser at my fingertips. I gently slip one out, the only thing in my mind being my blood spilling onto that bed…
Running to my bedroom as if my life is at stake, I sit upon the bed. I sit there for a moment, thoughts now resurfacing and becoming a dull roar in the back of my mind. I hold the razor before me as if it is a stranger.
So, I have all of February, the shortest month of the year, to kill Bam.
Bam. I remember being there with you…in that warm, beautiful basement. I wasn’t asleep while you were with me. And I felt so safe with you. I have never felt that safe before. You had taken me in without a thought, invited the assassin into your own sanctuary. Well, isn’t that how it always happens? Isn’t that the reason all good men die, because they are good?
Shame On Me
Then, I felt that familiar sting. My hand had finally decided to move against the other. I watched as the blade slit a straight line across the center of my palm. I felt nothing but the relief of an endorphin rush as the blood bunched in red droplets from that line. Any pain I should have felt was drowned out by the immediate high.
Jaeid had won me over with his ‘kindness’. Preying upon me as a friend and a helper, he’d offered to be my savior. And I’d believed every word.
Again. I had to do it again. I stared as the blood trickled from my forearm, over the scars from last week and to the bed. I loved the way this felt, how my mind hit a pain so pure I saw white light…and the glory of this weakened my entire body…and left me to shaking, breathing, and vigorously lapping my own blood. There was nothing to do but, laugh…and shiver.
As a practical slave on the streets of New York, I ran from the blood, the sex, the constant impersonal degradation of my body…to a slower, more intimate, bloodier torture. Sometimes, I wish I were still out on those streets selling myself. Because now, I am sold FOREVER…and there is no going back on this. Jaeid OWNS me.
Another gash on my forearm. This time, it was deeper. So deep a wound, it is almost colored black. I watch as the hot crimson liquid spills all over my naked, trembling body. ‘So, this is the filth that flows out of me…how fitting. We’re not so pretty on the inside after all, are we?’
But, how could I have blamed myself for thinking he’d save me. I’d never known a creature like him; a vampire that walked during the day, possessing immortal youth. He was a being strong enough to save me from my oppressors. He was strong enough to fight off those ‘Mafia’ pimps that ruled me.
Another gash. This time even deeper. I cry out and moan quietly as it tears through my skin and the flesh beneath. This time, I attack my stomach. I’m sure it’s done something worthy of such treatment.
Yes, and then he used me as something I could never live up to. He’d tried to teach me to be the perfect lover, the perfect slave…the perfect killer. I was his new trainee, and as I tried so hard to be everything he’d ever imagined or wanted me to be, I disappointed him more and more. I couldn’t be his perfection, and after he realized this, the games grew bloodier and bloodier. The more intense his violence toward me, the deeper I cut myself. He’d never once really looked, never once cared. All I remember him saying about it was, “You need me to do it for you? I can do that better.”
Another rip in my skin. Another tear in my ‘temple’. I give one to all the loved ones I’ve ever lost. I give to Lauri. I give one to the only girl I’ve ever befriended.
I go frantic, full of rage, full of anger. Why all this anger? I’m taking it out on myself, scratching and tearing and mangling myself like a wild animal imploding in self-immolation. Only the defective animals, or the ones who knew they were dying, attacked themselves like this. I think I knew I was dying…
Her name had been Tessa. She’d been younger than me, a mere eleven to my fifteen. She’d been one of the ‘ladies’ I worked with in New York City. I’d taken her under my wing and cared for her like a sister. We never talked about how we’d gotten where we were, or who we’d been before, or the silent desperation in our eyes. But I do remember sitting beside her on rainy days, passing back and forth the only cigarette we had. I remember her smile…so sad it seemed like a grimace, and her pretty little-girl-face. I remember when she was shot in the chest and later cut to pieces when she finally cracked, saying she couldn’t live that life anymore.
My bed is a blood bath. I can only see red. The black of my sheets has somehow managed to transform into a deep, sickly rust color. I can smell the metallic fragrance of the tears my body has cried. I lie there, exhausted, terrified, watching the weakness seep out of me in great scarlet rivers from a thousand places on my skin.
No! Now I was going to lose another. Or, at least another possible loved one. Bam. Except this time, I would be the sole blame. I couldn’t bear this anymore. I couldn’t do this again. I fear I’d rather die than kill him. No. I can’t kill him! I won’t kill him! Where has my independence gone? Where is it hiding? My free will? My stupid rebellious nature? Who killed it; who maimed it? Had it been me…allowing myself to think I needed someone like Jaeid, for anything?
I raise my razorblade, preparing to go into another self-inflicted bout of torture, thinking that I might just take it too far this time…when I hear the doorbell ring from the living room.
Whew...okay. What do the people think? I'm in suspense. Comments are very much appreciated.
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Title: The Endless (I now hate this title, but have decided to stick with it)
Genre: fantasy/horror/drama/smut/comedy/randomness
Rating: G to R to NC-17…for blood/violence/explicit sex (later, sorry)/angst/pain/and anything else I can think of
Summary: You’ll just have to read it. (;
Oh, okay! Bam is a vampire and Ville is out to slay him. (in an effort to promote myself, I finally cave and write a summary)
POV: Alternating between first person Bam and first person Ville
Pairing: VAM, eventually, with lots of implications of other pairings.
Author’s Note: Every song I list on here is something that influenced me in some way while writing the chapter. Either the song goes with the mood or events in the chapter, or I obsessively listened to the music on repeat while writing. Or, I borrowed lyrics.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Bam (or friends), Ville, Lauri, or the members of HIM. I have never been to Philadelphia, and one of my best friends invented Kamilah. Jaied, other random characters, and the events of the story, however, are my creation and I OWN them. ;)
Prologue: http://swampwitch9666.livejournal.com/520.html#cutid1
Chapter 1 and 2: http://swampwitch9666.livejournal.com/815.html#cutid1
Chapter 3: http://swamptwitch9666.livejournal.com/1189.html#cutid1
Chapter 4: http://swampwitch9666.livejournal.com/1339.html#cutid1
Chapter 5: http://swampwitch9666.livejournal.com/1708.html#cutid1
Chapter 6: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/1367385.html
Chapter 7: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/1379765.html
Chapter 8: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/1417375.html
Chapter 9:
(Ville)
Jaeid, please no. I wanted to scream.
His body was pressed hard against my back, his hands moving to the zipper of my jeans. I just leaned over the bed, trying to breath steady and silent: not too loud, not too hard…not too shallow or too fast. But my body couldn’t go numb like my mind and I found myself shaking as the jeans fell in a pool at my ankles.
Not this…not again. I wanted to resist him, to tell him “NO! This isn’t part of our deal!” But I knew there had been no true agreement between us, other than I serve him to keep my life. The rules I’d thought existed between us broke everyday, and this was only a reminder.
“Lie down on the bed, Jett.”
I comply, slowly at first, then in a blind rush as I feel a finger upon my thigh. I realize I am wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers, and he is still fully clothed. A sudden sting enters my head as I look up at him; there’s a shot of lightening every time I look in his eyes. I look at my dark silken sheets-soon there will be blood in my bed, and it will be mine. And later, I will add to it. There will be an ocean where once there was only a river.
Closer. He’s standing over the bed. Looming over me, he’s ready for the chase. Well, I can’t give him the satisfaction of that anymore. Fighting Jaeid only gives the man an excuse to ‘punish’ me. I won’t fight this anymore, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t enjoy it…
He is now on the bed, crawling toward me, over me, on top of me. I have no thoughts as he does this. I stare at the ceiling as he peels my boxers from my body.
His nails run up and down my thighs.
I stare at the bumps on my ceiling; there’s a crack up there.
Both of his hands are upon me now, moving close, so close…to my…
It looks like a butterfly, this crack in my ceiling. See the way it spreads out in both directions? Notice the straight line down the middle? It is almost completely symmetrical.
His fingers close around me, squeezing, pushing, and running up and down my length. I do not feel pleasure at his touch.
The butterfly…did it move? I just saw it! It was twitching a wing!
Pain. Pain! Shooting through everything. I don’t want to look as he bends his head down between my legs…wrapping his mouth around my cock. There is no pleasure, no thrill. I know he’s going to use his teeth.
I focus on the crack in the ceiling. Maybe it’s not a crack. They’re burn marks, or paint. I want to join it, whatever it is. I want to join that butterfly on the ceiling. I want to fly with him. I don’t want to be here anymore.
I close my eyes…and I see him floating there, above me. He is beautiful; he is blue and violet and his wings sparkle and shine as he moves through the air, each beat of his wings a pulse of light.
Oh…but now I don’t only see the butterfly. There is a face, the face of a man. He looks to me with loving, tender eyes of blue. I want so badly to run my fingers through the careless curls of his chestnut hair as they surround his beautiful smile. Now he is kissing me. He is the one touching me, and his touch does not cause pain. He is warm, his body caresses mine…and I…
I hold my breath inside to keep a sigh from escaping my lips.
Bam. Bam Margera. It must be a nickname! Who is he? What does HE want with ME? Why is he so kind? Why are his eyes so large and unsure when he looks at me? God! Why am I thinking about him, why now? Why, Jaeid, when it’s you that’s doing this to me? And all I can think about is Bam Margera and butterflies!
What Am I?
I Wish I Was A Butterfly I'd Fly And Fly
Until It Was My Time To Die
“Where are you?” He is angry. I can hear the malice in his now rough, frantic voice that is usually so smooth…so smooth it slides.
Its Creeping In Again
I Know What I Really Am
No More Pretty, Purple,
Peaceful Butterfly
I just keep my eyes closed. The butterfly is winking at me with his wings. I realize the butterfly is me…and I…I wish that this butterfly could be near Bam.
The butterfly stops. And flies away, as I open my eyes in sudden shock and pain.
He just sank his teeth into my right nipple, and I watch as he sucks the blood from the open wound. He stops for a moment, looking up at me, and I see he is smirking. His lips are red with my blood and his eyes are dark with a lust that I find disfigures his whole face. It is disgusting on him. He bends his head down again, biting even harder, and I try not to scream as the pain comes throbbing out of me like a drum, a river of crimson in my queen-sized bed.
Come See The Blood That's In My Bed
Come Hear The Things
That Nobody Talks About
Shut Up You Mouth
Shame On You
Butterfly…butterfly! Don’t fly away from me! The butterfly is leaving me! Well, of course! I was never beautiful like him.
Yet, Bam’s face is still there, eyes upon me. I don’t understand why he would stick around after seeing this…
How could it hurt so much? Where’s my high tolerance for pain? I hear a low mewling, like a lost kitten, and I realize my own throat has caused it.
“Jett, you’re awake!” He growls sardonically. My name is Ville Valo, you sick fuck! “I was starting to wonder…” He looks down, eyes blazing with bile.
He continues lapping the blood from my chest…I can’t believe how hard he bit me. He must have wanted to bite my nipple off!
“Turn on your stomach. I want you to tremble for me.” He is sitting up now, waiting for me to obey him. I would, but I can’t. Something inside me will not move. I hardly understood what he was saying. There are blue eyes, gorgeous blue eyes…watching me…Bam, you’re going to kiss my lips and then you will fall in love with me.
And then I will have to kill you.
Shame On Me
“Jett! Wake up! Didn’t I just tell you to turn around! Be a good boy, and I won’t have to tell you again.” Oh, I know you love it when I don’t respond to you. You like to think you can make me care. I feel hands, cold and rough, grabbing hold of my waist, and violently, angrily, pushing me to the side. Those same hands come to push again, pressing both of my hips to the bed. I can feel the warm blood trickle out of my chest and onto the sheet of my bed. He is now raising my hips, spreading my legs apart. Large, cold hands are grabbing my wrists and holding them together above my head. I try so hard not to shiver as I feel one of the most mind-numbingly cold, hard, and large penises pierce my opening like a sword.
Oh butterfly, come back.
He’s going to make me bleed…because he doesn’t care what this feels like. And I’m in no position to tell him. But, I’ve gotten so good at this over the past few years. I can pretend like it’s nothing, like I don’t feel the things I feel. I was once fool enough to convince even myself that I felt nothing.
And all I can think about is Bam. And, in my mind, I’m laughing like mad as Jaeid stabs me over and over, causing the pain to shoot through my brain with flying colors. But, in my heart…I’m crying out desperately as I wish for someone as seemingly gentle, as loving and respectful as Bam. He is so beautiful to me right now…Bam Bam. If only I could really see his face right now. Hmm…I actually smile, as I imagine him as Bam Bam, the little troublesome boy from the Flintstones. I wonder what he’d do if I called him Bam Bam. Would he laugh at me? Would he scowl? Would he light up like a lamp? Would I ever know?
Why? Why! Why do I have to murder the first person I’ve met in years that seems to genuinely care about people…about me?
He jerks his now limp penis out of me. Good for him. I’m so glad I could give him the pleasure of squirting his filthy cum all over me. I just lie there afterwards, unmoving. He is throwing his fancy clothes back on. I can hear the rustling of fabric as he does this, and his feet on the floor as he moves toward the door.
I feel sick…I feel so sick I think I could die…
Look At Me
I Wish I Was A Honey Bee
Anything, Anything Other Than
The Things I Have Been
I Slip Out Of My Skin
So I Don’t Have To Do It Again
Just A Passing Thought
And Your Filth Is Seeping In
I hear no noise, only silence that echoes. I lie and I wait, and after a few moments I try to sit. I look at my jeans in the floor, my black socks…the figure in the doorway.
He speaks, “I notice you’ve been researching to find a way to kill him. Jett, it’s simple. I told you to just light him on fire, after you get him to think you’re his friend, of course. And, what did I tell you about being cautious? Those were your books about murder cases I found on the steps. Why did you leave them there?”
Oh…my books. Where had he put them?
“They’re in the living room. Look, forget it. Just have him killed by March. You have a month, isn’t it February the second? If you succeed, well, it’s an understatement that I’ll be proud. If not, I’ll do it on my own, but you may not be very happy with yourself, at all. You know I won’t be.” He said ‘I’ with particular oomph (as if this was very, very important), his eyes shot daggers then, and I knew this was a definite threat.
At that, he left the doorway, and I heard as the front door slammed a few seconds later.
He’s gone. Gone for now, but he’ll be back. He always comes back.
So, I had all of February, the shortest month of the year, to murder Bam.
Murder. Bam. Murder. Bam. Murder…Bam…
Come Scrub My Hands
They Won't Come Clean
Come Sit With Me
While The Walls Press In On Me
Shut Off That Light
Shame On You
I run to my bathroom, pain shooting through my chest, my wrists, my ass…even places I didn’t know could hurt. I can’t think…I can’t feel anything but a vague sense of panic and a sick emptiness.
I walk through the bathroom door, and head to the sink. The cabinet above it has what I’m dying for. I jerk it open, grabbing frantically for the convenient little razorblade dispenser at my fingertips. I gently slip one out, the only thing in my mind being my blood spilling onto that bed…
Running to my bedroom as if my life is at stake, I sit upon the bed. I sit there for a moment, thoughts now resurfacing and becoming a dull roar in the back of my mind. I hold the razor before me as if it is a stranger.
So, I have all of February, the shortest month of the year, to kill Bam.
Bam. I remember being there with you…in that warm, beautiful basement. I wasn’t asleep while you were with me. And I felt so safe with you. I have never felt that safe before. You had taken me in without a thought, invited the assassin into your own sanctuary. Well, isn’t that how it always happens? Isn’t that the reason all good men die, because they are good?
Shame On Me
Then, I felt that familiar sting. My hand had finally decided to move against the other. I watched as the blade slit a straight line across the center of my palm. I felt nothing but the relief of an endorphin rush as the blood bunched in red droplets from that line. Any pain I should have felt was drowned out by the immediate high.
Jaeid had won me over with his ‘kindness’. Preying upon me as a friend and a helper, he’d offered to be my savior. And I’d believed every word.
Again. I had to do it again. I stared as the blood trickled from my forearm, over the scars from last week and to the bed. I loved the way this felt, how my mind hit a pain so pure I saw white light…and the glory of this weakened my entire body…and left me to shaking, breathing, and vigorously lapping my own blood. There was nothing to do but, laugh…and shiver.
As a practical slave on the streets of New York, I ran from the blood, the sex, the constant impersonal degradation of my body…to a slower, more intimate, bloodier torture. Sometimes, I wish I were still out on those streets selling myself. Because now, I am sold FOREVER…and there is no going back on this. Jaeid OWNS me.
Another gash on my forearm. This time, it was deeper. So deep a wound, it is almost colored black. I watch as the hot crimson liquid spills all over my naked, trembling body. ‘So, this is the filth that flows out of me…how fitting. We’re not so pretty on the inside after all, are we?’
But, how could I have blamed myself for thinking he’d save me. I’d never known a creature like him; a vampire that walked during the day, possessing immortal youth. He was a being strong enough to save me from my oppressors. He was strong enough to fight off those ‘Mafia’ pimps that ruled me.
Another gash. This time even deeper. I cry out and moan quietly as it tears through my skin and the flesh beneath. This time, I attack my stomach. I’m sure it’s done something worthy of such treatment.
Yes, and then he used me as something I could never live up to. He’d tried to teach me to be the perfect lover, the perfect slave…the perfect killer. I was his new trainee, and as I tried so hard to be everything he’d ever imagined or wanted me to be, I disappointed him more and more. I couldn’t be his perfection, and after he realized this, the games grew bloodier and bloodier. The more intense his violence toward me, the deeper I cut myself. He’d never once really looked, never once cared. All I remember him saying about it was, “You need me to do it for you? I can do that better.”
Another rip in my skin. Another tear in my ‘temple’. I give one to all the loved ones I’ve ever lost. I give to Lauri. I give one to the only girl I’ve ever befriended.
I go frantic, full of rage, full of anger. Why all this anger? I’m taking it out on myself, scratching and tearing and mangling myself like a wild animal imploding in self-immolation. Only the defective animals, or the ones who knew they were dying, attacked themselves like this. I think I knew I was dying…
Her name had been Tessa. She’d been younger than me, a mere eleven to my fifteen. She’d been one of the ‘ladies’ I worked with in New York City. I’d taken her under my wing and cared for her like a sister. We never talked about how we’d gotten where we were, or who we’d been before, or the silent desperation in our eyes. But I do remember sitting beside her on rainy days, passing back and forth the only cigarette we had. I remember her smile…so sad it seemed like a grimace, and her pretty little-girl-face. I remember when she was shot in the chest and later cut to pieces when she finally cracked, saying she couldn’t live that life anymore.
My bed is a blood bath. I can only see red. The black of my sheets has somehow managed to transform into a deep, sickly rust color. I can smell the metallic fragrance of the tears my body has cried. I lie there, exhausted, terrified, watching the weakness seep out of me in great scarlet rivers from a thousand places on my skin.
No! Now I was going to lose another. Or, at least another possible loved one. Bam. Except this time, I would be the sole blame. I couldn’t bear this anymore. I couldn’t do this again. I fear I’d rather die than kill him. No. I can’t kill him! I won’t kill him! Where has my independence gone? Where is it hiding? My free will? My stupid rebellious nature? Who killed it; who maimed it? Had it been me…allowing myself to think I needed someone like Jaeid, for anything?
I raise my razorblade, preparing to go into another self-inflicted bout of torture, thinking that I might just take it too far this time…when I hear the doorbell ring from the living room.
Whew...okay. What do the people think? I'm in suspense. Comments are very much appreciated.
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