Bound

I heard my niece speak eloquently to the guards on his first night's arrival, though I was several doors down from the interrogation. She was more like me than she'd ever imagined. The darkness, was only halfway quenching her soul, squeezing out the life in her, destroying her kind character. Just like we'd all predicted. She said:

“It’s like having a compassionate, warm lover that takes all your pain away when they’re around, yet beats the shit out of you when they leave” I said.

I never thought I’d be laying my life on the line for the sake of my best friend.

“You wake up in the middle of the night, craving their touch, that sweet pleasure you can’t find anywhere else. When you can’t find them, you’re shaking, your head is in a toilet bowl, and you’re praying you’ll soon be saved from your suffering.”

They stared at me with wide, judging eyes. Why was I doing this? One of the grey suited men shook his head, perhaps in sympathy, but more likely in disbelief.

I continued.

“You won’t find peace until they return.”

They were still now, their faces pained. Maybe they were just listening intently. I had a hard time reading emotions now, like everything had been one shade of grey for months. I shivered, scared and shaken by the previous nights events.

“He has to come home,” I said as I shook in my seat.

These men continued to look at me like I was some kind of compass, a pawn in their game of cat and mouse. But, I couldn’t help them. I didn’t save Peter. I was never good at finding things, helping people, or bringing about peace.

Destroy

Destroy

Destroy

That’s all I had ever done.

“I’m just a junkie,” I cried, “I ruined his life.”

One of the men cleared his throat. They both had been standing above me this whole time, but then this man pulled out the old wooden chair across from me, sat down, and rested his hands onto the interrogation table. Even then, I still felt like he was looking down on me.

            In the seventh circle of hell, there are seven hundred and sixty two different types of snow. It is coldest at its core, freezing out only the worst of sinners, which inhabit all seven deadly sins. It is white as alabaster, much like the master’s skin. And his hands when they grace every inch of ones body, well, it chills you to the bone.  

            “Is this hell?” I laughed as I asked.

His tongue felt sweet on my skin, and I was glazed in salty sweat.

“Purgatory,” he stated sharply, and I took the lords name in vain, ironically, when I came.

After, he prompted me to get dressed, as there were people visiting the lair shortly, and I was supposed to be an example of prudish womanhood.

His voice, dark and deep as his faintly spoke my name.

“Jen Henry,” he began, “it is almost time.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“I can’t tell you. I can offer you nothing, but time.”

My eyes scanned the office again and again, however, there was no mention of the hour of the day, and the weather outside was deceivingly gloomy.

“Miss,” he spoke, “you must teach them to avoid that which you most desire.”

I gulped down a lump in my throat, as my body seized blissful warmth.

Love did not exist here in this place with this master, not yet. Not ever. He was a man off infinite once upon a times.

Destroy, destroy, destroy.

That was my most rewardingly painful mission.

The New Queen In Town

Kali Morgan sat on her new, queen size bed still wrapped in plastic, and examined the cardboard boxes that swallowed the room. Her mother had told her to start unpacking, but after a two-hour drive, she wanted nothing to do with that. Wondering where her composition notebook was, she rustled through various packages that might contain her most prized possession.

“Yes, I got it” she squealed, devising a plan that would convince her mom to allow her to explore.

“Kali, did you start getting your room together?” her mother scolded.

“Yeah, look!” she replied, waving her journal in front of her mothers face.

 Kali’s dad was busy programming the remote while her older sister Maya talked about how they’d be able to have summer parties in their vast backyard. Kali looked out the window, noticing a huge, dark building on the other side of their lawn.

“What’s that…over there?”

“It looks like a prison.” Maya chuckled.

Their mother sighed, “It’s an all girls school. The principal is a client of your fathers. She suggested this house for us!”

Maya raised her eyebrows, suspiciously eyed her father, and sarcastically sighed. “I thought you weren’t supposed to interact with your clients outside of work?”

“It was just a friendly suggestion, honey.”

“Mom, can I go play outside?” Before her mother could answer, the curious young girl was rushing out the door with her book in hand.

“Be back inside before dinner!”

While sitting on the porch, Kali scribbled in her notebook.

June 4th.

I’m going to check out the school across the yard.

Maybe I’ll make a new friend.

I don’t know anyone in this place.

She tossed it to the side and began sprinting across the grass, only to realize there was a fence blocking her from getting closer to the building. The bricks of the structure were old and crumbling away. The windows were all shut, forbidding any light from getting in. Only one girl sat outside basking in the sunlight, and she was quite noticeably a few years older. She wondered how many other girls went to school there.

“Who are you?” The girl inquired, playing with her blonde braid that was tied to the side.

“I’m Kali. I just moved here. What’s your name?”

“Alexis. What are you doing here?” She looked uncomfortable; scanning the campus to make sure nobody was around.

“I just want to make friends. Maybe my Mom will let me come to school here.”

“You can’t just enroll here. You have to be summoned.”

“Summoned?” Alexis sat up off the ground, brushing the dirt off her plaid skirt as she walked toward the fence that separated her and Kali.

“If you want to be my friend, then you can help me do something.”

Kali nodded her head willingly.

“What do you need?”

Alexis looked around one last time.

“Help me escape,” she whispered.

One last cheerful scent

            Sarah’s room smelled of patchouli and cherry blossoms, mixed with an earthy incent burning in the corner.  It was painted a lighter shade of pink, which was a color she must have despised, as most of it was masked with rock band posters, artwork, and writing by friends amidst each wall. One picture in particular stood out to me, and I couldn’t help but question it. I knew the figure very well, as we’d learned about it together in eighth grade history. But I couldn’t put together why she’d hang this hateful man with a stoic mustache across bed she’d rest in every night.

            “He started an entire war by himself, he was a genius…” she’d explain. 

I nodded my head, “He did get away with mass genocide.”       

Her smirk said it all, how proud she was of what I could learn in such a short instant.

            Catherine was protruding in her stomach now, lightly stretching the five-pointed star tattoo on her hip, something I was envious of. She had wanted to get drunk, but her pregnancy was quite obviously the reason that inspired her sobriety. Once the baby was born, she had flawlessly gone back to her old ways, living it up without consequences until her fatal accident.

            Her face drooped a little blankly now, as a heated question pondered in the back of her mind before it poked out of her mouth. She sighed and lightly touched the subject. Her voice trembled as if he was a forbidden spirit, which shouldn’t be mentioned.

            “Where’s Peter been, Elyse…”

It took me a moment to process an answer that was believable, but sarcasm took over me quickly, as usual.

            “Drinking liquid poison, fighting medieval battles, anything but look for a new job.” I’d admit I was continuously bitter when it came to Peter’s aloof lifestyle. “I don’t care,” I added, although the tone of my voice didn’t match that last statement. I’d never lied well, like telling the truth was a curse my aunt put on me. I laughed to myself in my mind, wondering what she would think if I browsed Sarah’s bookshelf and took A Witches Bible, or Mein Kampf back to the dorm to study. It’s almost certain that she’d tell me I was too young or naïve to comprehend those types of books, but I knew fully well I could suck information out of that literature, like a psychic vampire. She did not grasp my abilities, as they were not for a woman like her to understand.

            Sarah snapped her fingers in front of my face to bring me back to reality. She was one of the few to take my flashbacks lightly; it didn’t scare her like it did the others. “Let’s go for a walk,” she pleaded. Catherine must have been doing anxious flips inside of her stomach again.  I pulled a clove cigarette from my handmade, knitted pouch. “Sure, I’m ready to head out.” I had business to take care of soon, anyway.

The Master Plan

          The moment I walked into the master’s study, I was appalled by all the antique, tranquil decorations plastered among every wall. He was upset by the fact that I couldn’t translate the Russian written on his old, stolen maps that hung among the wall across the bed, covering up the archaic yellow wallpaper underneath. There were photographs in wooden frames everywhere, exposing the inner workings of his manic brain. There were trees, swaying in the wind outside the window by the bed, calming me. It was the place I looked when my mind got too heavy to comprehend the plan.

            The first night I had arrived, I was still recovering from my acid trip the night before. Nothing seemed real at first, until he showed me the special book with a wrinkled and flaky brown leather binding. When the other mistresses would walk into the study, the books pages would go completely blank as if it was predicting a bleak future for all of them. It was a special thing only the master and I could read.

            His skin was white as alabaster, and he held a deep voice underneath his crooked smile. He lured me in with his sweet talk about past lives and uncrossed paths between the two of us. I should of known then this would end in pure trouble. He began to persuade me again, brushing my cheek with his hand as he called me beautiful.

“You’ve helped me out in the end of every life,” he said. The master began a story about being burned at the stake, and how my parents from the local dairy farm allowed me to freely give him a glass of goat’s milk before his execution.

“What does a horse carriage mean to you?” He asked.

“My parents.”

He did not understand, his silence egged me on to go further with the blasphemous story I wanted to hold inside my gut forever. The lump in my throat told me it was time to let this go.

“They were weak people” I began. “My mother was missing half of her body, as if her chest couldn’t hold a heart, so they had to cut it out and replace it.”

His dark brown eyes scanned mine, reassuring me this was a secret I could keep safe with only him.

“My father once was shot with a bow and arrow in the head. He wasn’t quite right either. There was…a joker there in the safe house where we stayed. I was insanely attracted to him, though he was too old for me. They tried to keep me away from him, but all we were doing was playing chess.”

There was a gulp in his throat I could spy by concentrating on his adams apple.

“The horse carriage,” I went on, “well it drove us children away right before the building blew up. My parents watched me as the horse galloped away, before they were burned to death by the explosion.”

“Who was driving the carriage, do you remember, Miss Henry?”

“Yes, the joker. He saved my life.”

He then planted a quick kiss on my lips, and afterwards he looked scared as hell.

“I would do anything for you” he managed to muster with a cracked voice.

It was obvious to me then what he was saying. He was the joker and I was not allowed to love him, even though my heart so insanely did.