Submissive

He was working late shift again, checking on patients round the clock--and one patient in particular. Her name was Mary. She\'d told Dr. Murry that much, but had refused to say more--about herself, and about whoever mutilated her. She\'d been at the hospital close to a month now, staring at the wall and keeping to herself.
Sometimes Marcus would go in and ask a simple question. \"How are you feeling this evening Mary?\" or \"Is there anything I could get you to read?\"
She\'d merely shake her head once, and he would stand there a few moments longer, just in case she might change her mind…just in case she might say something back.
Herisesises had healed; most of the stitches had been removed. Tender, angry lines swirled all over her flesh. Marcus felt sorry for her, it would be difficult enough to conceal the scars on her face; lord knew how she would be able to attract any future lovers. There had been some serious nerve damage in her left calf. She could still use the leg, but she\'d lost all sense of touch below her knee.
He came in at 3am on the dot, silently opening her door to see how she fared. A slight noise caught his attention immediately.
It was soft and faint. He moved slowly into the room, circled her bed and sat down in a single chair facing her.
Mary stared at nothing, but her lips moved.

\"Your hands on me, pressing hard against your jeans, your tongue in my mouth, trying to keep the words from coming out; you didn\'t care to know--who else may have been you before...\"

She was singing. Marcus knew the song: \"That\'s Bright Eyes\' Lover I don\'t have to love.\"

Mary broke her gaze off of oblivion and stared right at him. \"It was his favorite song.\"

Marcus fought back his surprise and strove to remain impassive. \"Its lyrics are haunting.\"
He tried not to show it, but he was holding his breath. Hoping she would say more.
Her eyes returned to their blank state, and he would\'ve given up hope had she not kept singing.

\"You write such pretty words, but life\'s no story book. Love\'s an excuse to get hurt. Do you like to hurt, I do, I do...\"
Her voice cracked as tears fell down her eyes; her left eye opening just a smidgen further than it\'s usual small crack as she tried to look up at the ceiling.
Marcus was patient. He would\'ve gotten her a tissue if he\'d thought she would accept one.
\"His name is Seth Brooks,\" she confessed. But to what, Marcus wasn\'t sure. \"You can write down what I\'m going to tell you, or I can give you time to get a tape recorder.\"

\"Thank you,\" Marcus replied softly. He left quickly to fetch a recorder and returned in record time, quietly reseating himself.
Mary had dried her tears and was lying flat as a board, staring at the ceiling.

\"Whenever you\'re ready,\" he prompted.

She took her time. The minutes dragged until a full hour had passed, and still Marcus waited. He\'d told Greta to take over his shift. Finally, Mary turned to face him and curled into a ball. He pressed play.

\"I met him, three months ago.\" She spoke cautiously, haltingly. \"He came to my legal office for aid in a small lawsuit. Told me just what he needed me to do and how much he would pay me. He was very sexy. I liked his bossiness. My dad used to be bossy...
After I won his case, he invited me for dinner at his place. We made love. Or at least...it started out that way.\"

Marcus shifted uncomfortably. She was lying on her right side, the damage on her left was cast in sharp relief by the dim moonlight that shown in through the room\'s single window. Her undamaged half was hidden in shadow, but he still felt a pull towards that remaining beauty.

\"He brought the dog into bed. Buster was his name. Cute little pug. Seth told me to lie still. He left to get something out of a drawer. It was canned dog food. He spread it on my inner thighs, telling me to lie still. I remember Buster was whimpering.
And then he told the dog to eat.
It was so humiliating...I lay still because he said not to move. He gave the orders, I followed them. There was no real harm. I just experienced a new sexual technique.
The following week, Seth told me to move in with him. I wasn\'t given a choice, but even then I didn\'t fight back. I didn\'t even reject him when he claimed me for his fiancé. Or even when he forgot my name was Mary and started calling me Christine.
And then, one night, I got up in the middle of the night to grab a snack. We\'d ordered take out, and I\'d thought surely he\'d kept some of the leftovers he fhe fridge. What I found were spoons. Dozens and hundreds of spoons. I must\'ve moved one out of order because the next morning, he beat me.
He was so furious that I had upset his order, and struck me across the face...
And then the oddest look came into his eyes when he saw the bruises start to form. I bruise too easily.
The next thing I knew, he\'d taken me to the bedroom and sodomized me. I cried and tried to fight him off, but he brought his arm down on my back so hard, I found it was less painful if I just lay still.
He\'d bitten me several times during the rape. Later on, I realized the bite marks were all on my right side. Later on...when I\'d snuck out of his apartment with a single suitcase of all my things. I took Buster with me. I\'d had the horrible notion that he\'d raped the dog as well.
I did what was rational. I went to the police. Filed my report. They said they couldn\'t arrest him right away, but they would put a restraining order on him.
He came to my work. Knocked out my secretary. Told me to come back.
I did what he said. I didn\'t want him hurting anyone I knew.
And then...this happened to me...\"

She started sobbing again. Marcus thought that perhaps she\'d reached the end of her story, and reached out a hand to comfort her. She let him rest his hand on her robe-covered shoulder as she fought for composure.

\"I blame Daddy,\" she was saying in a small voice. \"When I was little, he always said not to tell Mamma. Never tell Mamma or anyone else. He gave me all these rules to follow, and when they\'d caught us in bed...\"

Marcus\' stomach was revolting. He wanted her to stop, but at the same time, he wouldn\'t let her stop.

\"I had to follow orders, so many orders. They put me in foster homes, and I was always beaten and starved--unless I followed their rules. The wives and daughters would call me a slut. And sometimes the husbands and sons would...God, I\'m so pathetic.\"
Marcus stopped recording. She\'d said more than enough, more than anyone needed to know.

\"I was right,\" he mumbled softly, stroking her shoulder and letting her sob all her misery away. \"Would you like me to get you something to read?\" he asked after she\'d calmed down.
Mary shook her head and let out a tiny smile. Despite the scars, that small curve of her lips transformed her face into something almost-pretty.

\"Could you please stay until I sleep?\" she asked.

Marcus nodded, \"Okay.\"

\"Tell me a story,\" she muttered, already loosing the strength to stay awake, \"Tell me something about yourself.\"
Her eyes shut, and her breath grew even before Marcus could think of anything to say.

\"I think I\'m going to protect you from being hurt again,\" he whispered gently against her ear.
He wasn\'t being cruel when he\'d guessed she had allowed herself to be victimized. Marcus, himself, had a lover once who\'d left him to return to her abusive boyfriend. He\'d never heard from her again.
As he left Mary\'s room and headed down the hall, he made a decision: Seth Brooks was going to see justice.