Authors: Ember Chase
I stifle a dismissive laugh. He doesn’t buy that any more than I do. The bubble popped. Big time.
The first thing
he does is insist I get dressed and I can see him debating whether or not he should tell me to put shoes on, so I do it on my own to his relief. He carries me to the couch and flicks on the television but neither one of us is paying attention. It’s nice to have the noise, but it isn’t loud enough to conceal the silence between us. Isaac holds me tighter and tighter with every passing minute, rocking me like a child, kissing the top of my head, murmuring reassurances of my safety and his love. But he is scared, and not for himself. Every time I peek up at him, I catch him pulling his eyes away from the door.
I notice that he’s asleep when his hand falls slowly down my back. It’s a restless slumber, filled with jerks and whimpers. His skin is cold and clammy to the touch, his breathing hitched and labored. There is nothing I can do to help him. I’ve never felt so useless before, so completely, utterly helpless. I keep my eyes open for as long as I can. As soon as they shut, I’ll be completely alone too.
Maya
I can’t move my arms. The sound of metal scraping against metal tortures my ears.
Stop it. That hurts. Red. Red! Please.
It’ll be easier to just go limp and wait it out. It always is. Am I going to come? I don’t want to. My toes twitch and he laughs.
I’m alone in the bed, ashamed, my pulse racing, stomach churning, with wet cheeks and wetter panties. Gradually, my senses return to me, along with a gnawing fear I wrestle down. Where is Isaac? I’m awake now, but that sound of scraping metal is still grating my ears and I can’t shake it. Perhaps because I’m actually hearing it coming through the closed door.
I waver when I rise to my feet. Why is it still so dark out? Crap, it’s only 5:33 in the morning. I think Isaac drifted off around two. On the couch. He must have carried me in here.
I’m in the hallway, getting closer to that sound. I
t’s from the playroom. What the fuck is he doing in there? Tentatively, silently, I open the door. He’s sitting in the middle of the room in front of a cardboard box, sifting around through small pieces of metal based on the sound. The chest of drawers is moved over and the wall behind it was apparently a secret compartment because part of it is gone. His posture alters when I step into the room, but he doesn’t look at me.
“These are yours,
” he whispers.
I inhale sharply before I can stop myself.
Baby. You sound awful.
It has to hurt so much to talk. He pushes an intricately carved wooden box toward me. I’m afraid to open it, but I don’t want him to see that. “Thank you.”
“You didn’t look inside
yet.”
“If you got it for me, I’m sure I’ll like it.”
“Them,” he corrects me. I lower myself to the floor across from him, fighting the urge to reach out and stroke his face. I open my little treasure chest, pretending that I don’t notice his head lifting a bit so he can watch me. At first glance I’m not sure what they are, but they’re sparkling and I’m smiling. I wish he was. “So… I have a thing for expensive nipple jewelry. Non-pierced.”
Oh. That’s why they come in pairs. “They’re so pretty.” And
very
expensive looking. Are these two platinum? “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The words tumble out of a tiny smile that disappear
s as soon I see it. Better than nothing. “Aren’t you going to ask?”
“No.”
“Because you don’t want to know?”
“Because it doesn’t matter.”
He finally looks at me. Unfortunately, his eyes are filled with skepticism. “It matters to me. No one has ever worn them.”
“How long have you had these?”
He reaches forward, heating my skin where his fingers graze mine as he fishes around in the box. “I came across this pair about a month ago and had to have them even though they were pierced. There aren’t many options in platinum. I had them altered,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking up to mine. “I stole this pair when I was sixteen. That’s what started it.” They’re made of gold wire and dangling chains with tiny clear crystals that shoot pinpricks of light across his face.
“That’s a long time to be carrying them around.”
“Not as long as I thought it would be,” he says hoarsely. My eyes tear up, thinking about the angsty sixteen year old that just wanted a girlfriend to give a present to. “This pair is borderline clean, but I like them too much. I swapped out the beads to… purify them, I guess. Opals. That’s your birthstone, too.”
“I noticed them right away. They’re gorgeous.”
“Originally,” he starts, pulling his hand from the treasure box and rummaging through the much larger cardboard one in his lap. “They looked like these. Rubies. Glory’s birthstone, actually. Maybe that’s why they felt wrong and right at the same time. I saw them not long after I left her on this girl at one of my father’s clubs. Woman,” he corrects himself. “I never fucked her. I stole them and bought my own a few months later.”
“So that box…”
“Contaminated. This is the only pair of nipple jewelry, as you can see,” he says, flopping the tainted box in front of me.
“Holy shit!” I exclaim. His laugh is unnerving.
“They are the only pair because I’ve never had sex with anyone wearing nipple jewelry. It was the only thing I could come up with that I could save for later, for when I loved her and she loved me. That I could save for you. I didn’t realize that everything would feel so different that I wouldn’t need to because it’s all so new anyway, but I’m still glad I did.”
Oh, Isaac.
There is so much jewelry in this box. Lots of big cocktail rings. Heart pendants. Diamond earrings. This tennis bracelet alone has got to be worth over ten thousand dollars. “You probably don’t want to touch those, Maya.”
“Sorry,” I say, recoiling.
“No, I’m sorry. For handing you a box full of jewelry I stole from the rich women I’ve fucked.”
“Isaac, I don’t care.” I plunge my hand in and swirl it around to prove it before he pulls the box away.
“There used to be a larger box for jewelry that they gave me because they were wearing it at the time, but it got to the point where I couldn’t open it anymore and gold was high, so I sold it.”
I need to get him out of this room. “Let’s go back to bed.”
My blood runs cold when he glares up at me. Bad choice of words, I guess. “So, I’m a thief. And you have nothing to say about it.”
“I don’t care.”
“Just like you don’t care that I’m a drug addict. Or a whore.” Why did I say that? “Hell, a pimp too. That was the biggest part of my job, actually. Picking out the right toys. They say I have a knack for it.”
Inwardly, I cringe, not from jealousy, but pity. I’m glad he’s having such a hard time looking at my face. “It doesn’t change anything.”
“I’m sure I could come up with some other stuff, too. Embezzlement. Assault and Battery. Not rape though, well, I guess that’s debatable. And never kids, but that didn’t come up. Different players. Different scene.”
How the fuck am I going to get him out of this room? “It’s not your fault.”
He sighs. “I’m not sure anymore. Eventually, you get old enough and you’re responsible for your own choices.”
“Isaac, it’s not really a choice if you’re afraid someone will kill you if you don’t do it.”
“I’d like to think that he wouldn’t. He’s just so fucking impulsive. He would regret it later, that’s really nice to know. It’s so fucked up, but he does actually love me. The problem is that he wishes that he didn’t.”
“I love you,
” I assure him, but he doesn’t hear me. “Isaac.” No response. I rise to my feet. Maybe he’ll follow me.
“I didn
’t say you could leave yet.” The distant tone of his voice stops me mid-step. “Don’t be scared.”
That could not have been less reassuring. “Okay.”
“Come here, Maya.” With a blank face, he gets up and walks over to the chest. I’ve never been so reluctant to do what he wants. Each step is a leap of faith that my gut is screaming at me not to take. I’ll be able to get over it if he hurts me, but he probably won’t be so forgiving. Regardless of my decision, I’m not getting out of this room anyway. “I saw you in here that day,” he confesses. I thought he was in the shower. “I watched you, kept waiting for you to turn around so I could call out a strike, but you were fascinated. I know you’re curious. We never got around to the Q&A.”
I gulp. “Can we do this another time?”
“No. I have to know now.”
“Know what?”
“What you’re going to want when we need to
spice things up
,” he hisses.
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not,” I peep.
My spine stiffens in anticipation as he stalks toward me.
Please don’t hurt me.
His fingers circle my wrist, but my feet won’t move when he pulls me closer to that chest. I don’t want to go over there. I whimper but he doesn’t hear it, wrapping his arm around my waist and dragging me like a lamb to the slaughter.
“I really need to know now, Maya. Please.”
“Okay.” I try not to squirm as Isaac steps behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder, his arms surrounding me as he opens the small drawers.
We cook like this all the time, don’t ruin it
. Leaning back into him hoping that the familiarity will snap him out of this twisted trance, I force myself to take a deep breath and relax. He should kiss my hair, hold my hands, nuzzle my neck, anything, but he doesn’t. Nothing is poking into the small of my back though, thankfully.
“These really hurt.
” Oh my God, I bet they do. “You might actually like this, but it makes me anxious.”
“That’s fine.”
“Now this,” he growls. “This is particularly painful.”
“Isaac, I don’t like this stuff.”
“That’s not really true. You don’t have to lie, I’m not going to judge you.”
“I know.”
“So pick!” he shouts, making me jump. “Pick out the shit you like, the shit you
need
. You’ve tried some of this before, not with me, but
I know him
,” he rasps in my ear, tossing one of Luke’s favorites at me. “You’ve tried this before.” He doesn’t even have to ask. And I did like it. “What do you need, what’s missing? I have to know.”
Fuck. He i
s really losing it. “Let’s get out of here for a while.”
“
No
. This one.” He forces it into my hands. “I know you’ve tried this.”
“Stop it.”
“Did you like it?” he snarls, kissing his favorite spot below my ear as I try to squirm away from him. He pins my hips against the front of this twisted chest of drawers with his and he’s not as soft as he was a few seconds ago.
“A little bit,” I answer honestly.
“What about this?”
My stomach flips and I get lightheaded. I never want to see that again. “No, I didn’t like that at all.”
“I didn’t either!” he screams, flying away from me. “It’s fucking horrible, isn’t it?”
“Isaac, please, let’s go back to
sleep,” I beg him. “Come on.” I pull at his arm, yelping when he slaps my hand away. That really hurt and he didn’t notice.
“Why, you’re fucking horny again? Aren’t you going to take something with you?”
“I’m not horny, I’m tired. Come on, it’s so early.”
“Oh, I get it,” he snaps. “’Cuz now you see how fucking weak I am. You can’t unsee it and you don’t want me.”
“No! Isaac, no.” It’s the total opposite. I don’t understand how someone could possibly be this strong. Is that the right thing to say?
“Why won’t you tell me then?”
“Because…” My voice wavers as I start to choke up. He heard that, his eyes blinking and darting around the room as if he’s not quite sure how he got here. “I’m afraid I don’t like it rough enough for you. Or weird enough.” I could totally stop myself from crying right now, but it seems to be the only thing that’s getting through to him, so I don’t. “I don’t need these nasty toys!” I squeal, sinking into his chest as he appears in front of me, confused and distraught. “None of this shit was
my
idea.”
“You’re serious.” Why is that so hard for him to believe? “You don’t care.”
“I’m not opposed to some of it,” I say, standing straighter and pulling myself together. “I can just take it or leave it, I guess.”
“So you wouldn’t be disappointed… if…” He chokes on the words, pulling away. I miss him immediately. “If I didn’t want to tie your legs apart. Because I need to know that you spread them yourself, that you want me to be there. Every time.”
“Of course I do.”
“And I won’t turn you off
,” he grunts. Shit.
Don’t get angry again
. “If we don’t pretend that you don’t like it when you really do!”
I back away from him as a horrifying growl erupts from his throat. He kicks the bench over and over until it starts to lift from the bolts holding it in place.
“If I don’t want to act like I’m forcing you!” His rage sets its sight on that wretched chest and it topples over, sending surgical steel implements of sexual dysfunction flying across the room. I’m so afraid he’s going to hurt himself. “If I stop when you tell me to stop! Or better yet, if we never even fucking get to that point!”
With a howl, h
is hand grips that paddle he used to spank me with and throws it across the room so hard it breaks through the drywall. The rest of the whips and canes soon follow. I’m screaming his name as loudly as I can, but he is raging like a hurricane and whirling around in a path of destruction. The only thing I can do is get out of the way, tripping over my little treasure box as I flee. He’ll be so upset if it gets destroyed. Saving that other box is out of the question now that it’s in his grasp. The sparkling baubles are flying through the air, landing in the wreckage with musical tinkling sounds that are so out of place.
I’m in the doorway transfixed by the horror as he pulls and pries everything apart, screaming,
wailing, and grunting along the way. All of those horrible, painful toys cut his fingers as he mangles them and the skin on his knuckles scrapes away during the struggle, leaving thin, bright red streaks that trickle down his hands and forearms and smear all over the white walls, the cold gray steel.