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Only in the darkest recesses of one’s mind would they ever find true freedom. To push the limits of what they were capable of, to have their character revealed when there were no restraints to restrict the desires within—that was what defined who they were. But where there was a perpetrator, there was a victim. The actions and trials of both were not without consequence. To know fear in its purest form was to live, and life was the greatest gift we were bestowed.
Emotions came in many forms, and love appeared in mass shades. Mine was as dark as it came, and the fixation just happened to develop where hadn’t belonged. Slave Vicolette could never be mine, even if she were free of her Master. My position allowed it, but I refused, and it wasn’t for her. It was for me.
“There’s still an Everleigh inside there. I thought she died long ago.” He pulled back, but only a few inches. “I’m sorry for that, slave. For your sake, I wished she was dead. I fear she may not like what her future holds.
Don’t fear your Master, slave. Fear the devil at your back. Fear the reflection you can’t see staring back at you in the mirror. I’m everywhere. I see your every move. I’ve seen…for years. When and what I want of you, I will take. Fuck everyone. Let them try to get in my way. You belong to me when I decide the time is right. For your sake, you better hope that day never comes.”
Love didn’t tame monsters like me. The stupid fucking emotion only intensified it.
Do you think I’m afraid of death? Death and I are secret lovers. We take turns fucking each other every chance we get. Today, it’s my turn to be on top.”
“For who am I, if not a man? I’ve asked myself that question a million times. The answer evades me like the damned. And I must be damned to have been placed in this hell that swallows me by the day. I once thought by discovering the truth of what I queried it would set me free. But do cursed men ever find peace for their tainted souls? “Maybe I’m asking the wrong questions,”
“Maybe I’ve known the answer all along: love. “I once loved a woman. Once…no, I love her still. Her presence haunts the empty cells inside me, weaving in and out of the dark crevices like a ghost seeking recognition. Death has always been my friend. Even now, as I fight for life, when I close my ears to the screams within, she makes her presence know. Bump-bump goes my heart. But it is not my heart I hear in the silence of my unconscious mind. It is her laugh. Her moans and sweet calls for me to come back to her. I groan at the ache she manifests in my chest. Come back to me, she says. Return
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