Beginning of Forever

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Beginning of Forever


She can feel his hot breath on the back of her neck, air tainted with nicotine and malice. He slowly comes out of the shadows that she stands before, appearing like a true creature of darkness from the deepest of shadows, and gently runs cold fingertips along her bare shoulder. Slowly his hand makes its way down towards the start of cleavage, but abruptly changes course, and that cold hand grasps her thin, white neck in a death grip. A cigarette between his fingers gives off a line of smoke reaching her nose and almost makes her choke.


Neither says a word, and she holds back a scream and a moan of pleasure from the force on her neck. She closes her eyes as he pushes her lightly against the wall she had been leaning on, other hand on the small of her back. His breath moves from her neck to the exposed flesh of her chest, thin lips just barely touching breasts held up with the black corset he ordered her to wear; her favorite piece. His grip on her neck gradually lessens as she turns her head to the side, those cold hands slowly making their way down her slender figure, cigarette still hanging between his fingers as he explores the leather of her upper piece, and the short, frail satin of her skirt.


She expertly quiets a gasp as the cold fingers that had surrounded her neck only moments ago now brush the surface of her pale thigh. His lips move from her chest to the base of her neck, soft breath teasing the nerves all along her aorta. He grazes his teeth over her skin, tickling her senses as he takes both her wrists in his hands and pins them behind her against the wall. With one hand, he restrains her, and with the other, he puts the cigarette in the corner of his mouth then slides his knuckles lightly over her cheek.


“Kaelyn. Look at me.” he commands softly, almost lovingly. If she had not known him before this encounter she might have been swayed to believe that he was sincere. She knows, however, that he is not, but turns her head to face him nonetheless, fixing her green eyes on placid grey ones, trying to predict his next move but finding nothing in the pools of silver she had grown to both love and hate. She can only stare up at him, helpless in his grip, as he stands to his full height so he dominates over her, taking advantage of the inch of height he has more then her.


He inhales the cigarette in his mouth, taking a deep breath before placing it back between his fingers, flicking the ashes on the toes of her leather boots and exhaling the smoke over her chest.


“Guess what.” He says, his lips pressed ever so slightly against hers so that she can hear and feel his every word. He pauses, gently kissing her bottom lip as she stares into his eyes questioningly. He says nothing for what feels like an eternity before she feels his lips curl into a sinister smile. Her eyes grow wide, but before she has time to react, the cigarette is back in his mouth and he backhands her as hard as he can across her cheek.


Her head swings to the side as the sweet taste of blood begins to fill her mouth, a drop finding its way out of the corner of her parted lips. He leans in and presses his mouth to her ear.


“You’re mine.” he says, finishing his statement before roughly dragging her away from her corner by her restrained wrists, gracefully sliding his other arm around her waist to push her along. She closes her eyes tightly, knowing that she doesn’t want to see where it is she is being led; only where she ends up has any importance to her. Even that, however, had no real significance. Not anymore anyways.


The room she was in used to matter to her. She had wanted to have everything embedded in her mind. The smell in the air was one she would breath in so deeply her lungs would hurt, just to make sure that for days to come she would remember that smell. The feeling of the fabric on the bed would tickle her skin, whether it was soft velvet or coarse wool, and she would curl up into a tiny ball underneath those sheets and concentrate only on the nerves that became excited at the very thought of such materials. Every time, she would try and remember every last detail of the nights she had spent there, assuring herself in some way that when morning came, even days later, the feelings would be fresh in her mind. Her nights with Merric had always been so perfect; nothing could destroy what they built on that mattress, under those covers, in their minds. It was supposed to last forever.


She is shaken roughly out of her thoughts when pushed into a room. She can tell it's dark, despite her eyes still being closed, and she does not open them until she hears the door slam shut. She gives a sudden jerk as he approaches her, and he forces her to face him. She looks into his face and even though she knows exactly how he looks, she cannot concentrate on any of his features. Only his eyes mean anything to her. The rest is a giant blur, a haze covering the unnecessary. She watches him silently take the stub of a cigarette from his lips, and she doesn’t attempt at moving away from him as he pushed it into her arm. It burns a black hole into her skin, and the smell of tobacco and scorched flesh peaks her senses. She neither moves away, nor moves towards it. This is his regular routine; testing her differently every time to make sure she can handle the pain. Deep down, however, no amount of physical pain could surpass what aches her broken heart.


Time passes. It no longer becomes an essence that has any meaning. She doesn't care how long it's been since she's last eaten. She doesn't want to know how long she's been laying on this man's bed, letting him do whatever he pleases as she lays back, taking it all without a single word of protest passing her lips, though her mind screams for relief of the agony. All she knows is that time itself is running out. It is all coming to a close, and once the final curtain comes down, the stage is set for a new play; to begin all over again from ideas developed long ago. The script will be written and the characters brought to life. Oh how dramatic irony hurts.


More time has passed. She lays unclothed underneath the silver-eyed man, tied at the wrists and ankles to the edge of the bed, his jerks and movements in an attempt to satisfy himself only registering in her mind as dull forces against her thighs and hips. He doesn't care for her pleasure. Not like Merric did. He would always be there for her, comfort her, smile with her and make her laugh when she needed it most. She was his in a way no other person could ever understand, bound together at the soul, heart woven as one with silver thread. Maybe that's why it hurt so much. Like getting a tooth pulled. When something is integrated into you so deeply it makes up the very thing you are, it only makes sense that ripping it away would cause a sort of pain. It was the aftermath, however, that hurt the most. The slow torture that just never went away. It was like the sound of the tires squealing, or the shot of a bullet, or the slash of knife. Whichever one it was, the sound would forever play over and over in her mind.


Too much time has passed. She lays unbound on the edge of the bed, the rhythmic sound of heavy breathing coming from the man sleeping deeply behind her. She pushes herself out of her memories once again to reality, where her flesh aches with bruises and cuts, her body shaking, though she doesn't know why. Cold? Fright? Neither seems to fit. Slowly she peels back the covers and steps over the edge of the bed. She looks around, but nothing seems real. The doorway appears miles away, and the walls swirl in their lifeless colours, pools of infinite emptiness that remind her of just how lost she has become. She reaches over for the handle of the dresser, as hot tears begin to make their way over flush cheeks to towards the cold floor.


She hopes Merric will forgive her. She has become the toy of so many men over just the thirteen months he's been gone. His disease was so sudden. She never had time to ask him what she was supposed to do with her life after he moved on. She hopes against all she knows that he might take her back into his arms when she gives herself up completely to the world. She fumbles in the drawer for what she knows will be there, a small, jagged knife, and pulls it out as she lay's back down on the bed. She shivers, but refuses to cover herself. She thinks back, tears hitting the pillow, and realizes as she brings her armed hand down that all she worked so hard to create is crumbling around her, as flesh is broken. Everything she had built before Merric had vanished is fading away so quickly. The red pain she had held inside her for so long now pours out, willingly for the first time.


The right time is finally here. She sees him, standing alone in the woods, dressed all in white. It's so cliché but it could not be more perfect. She feels herself, on the physical world, being drained of her life force, but in her mind, in the realm where her soul has already begun to make a home, she feels nothing but relief. Merric watches her from a small distance, the most loving of smiles on his face and she gets up to face him. She opens her mouth to ask him that he forgive her for betraying him, but Merric only smiles wider. He approaches her, almost to gracefully, and just as final drop of freely shed blood hits the floor of the man's apartment, Merric embraces her in a tender hug.

You see? We did last forever.