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.