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People often believed they were safer in the light, thinking monsters only came out at night.
But safety—like light—was a façade. Underneath, the whole world was drenched in darkness.
there was no safety; monsters lurked everywhere.
His voice was too calm, too refined, too matter-of-fact, and too… reminiscent of Hannibal Lector in The Silence of the Lambs. “You need a bath, Pet.” Was his terrifying response. Hello Clarice….
Unbidden, words once made ominous by Poe manifested as flesh in the man before me: “Suddenly I heard a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.” Crap, crap, crap. Okay, that last part was me.
Only women were capable of being so fucking sexy you wanted to lick them clean when they considered themselves dirty.
He was my tormentor and my solace; the creator of the dark and the light within.
If the first lesson every slave had to learn was to accept that their wishes did not matter, then the first lesson every master had to learn was not to be a slave to their own desires.
The logic was simple, to command a slave, you must command yourself.
“Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected.” One of the very first lessons in Sun Tzu’s, The Art of War.
Home. My family. All this because I had wanted to get back to my worthless mother. Even if she doesn’t want me there. Never did. No matter how many times I said I was sorry. My eyes were stinging. I couldn’t believe I still had tears for her. I hated her. I hated her, because I loved her so fucking much and she obviously didn’t feel the same way.
“If it’s anywhere near as bad as what those assholes did to me.... I’m tired of living through this shit just to step into deeper fucking shit. So if all you have planned for me is more torture, I think I’d rather die. Just do me one favor and don’t…I don’t want to die slow.”
I was always seeking shelter in the people who hurt me the most. My mother. My father.
Like a battered dog begging for love from a malicious master. It was all I knew.
You said it wasn’t all your fault, and it isn’t—none of it is your fault. It’s…. It just isn’t.”
“You’re right. I don’t know your real name. But I don’t know mine either and it’s never stopped me from knowing who I am or taking what I want.”
It was like I was a ghost in my mother’s house. There, but not really.” “I tried to get back into her good graces.
Caleb’s voice broke through my memories, “But she blamed you for ruining her happiness.”
“For what it’s worth, Livvie, I never thought of you as a whore. And you are…the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I couldn’t bring myself to admit how vulnerable I was feeling. My mother had let me go. I was free of her, but not free.
Caleb could and would hurt me. Not today, but maybe tomorrow or the next day. Still, for the first time I knew he could not destroy me. It would matter to him if I didn’t exist. And no matter what happened, I’d land on my feet because Caleb had shown me I had it in me. It was a strange gift, from an unexpected source.
In real life you had to save yourself.
That’s not why you’re upset. He doesn’t care about you. Everything he’s done has been to manipulate you into doing what he wants. Every touch, every kiss, him saying you’re beautiful—it’s all been a lie. And you fell for it.
For the first time in recent memory, Caleb wanted something other than revenge. He wanted the girl. He wanted Livvie.
she wanted her mother to love her. Her eyes were sad because she knew her mother didn’t.
He’d almost thought the word love. Love. What the hell did that word even mean? It got tossed around so flippantly, by everyone. What did it really mean?
