Insane (Part 3)
I walk into my angel’s room and close the door carefully behind me. My eyes settle on him immediately. He is sitting on the mattress, leaning against the cold wall behind him, his dark eyes staring at the ceiling. They look so far away and I wonder where he is in his mind.
I smile.
He looks so much better now that he’s eaten. I have to remember that although I call him my angel, he is really a human being and that I have to treat him as such. I have to remember to feed him. I must remember that real angels have wings and there are no wings on the broken creature that I see before me.
Must remember.
I walk towards him and stop when I am towering over him. His eyes leave the ceiling and focus on me and in those depthless brown orbs I can see everything that he’s feeling. Right now he’s wary, wondering what I am going to do. Right now he’s frightened, unsure.
I smile, but say nothing. Just smile. I love that he’s so open to me.
His eyes wander from my face to my body and he seems to notice that there is something behind my back. The color drains from his face and he pushes himself against the wall, almost as if he could disappear into it if he pushed back hard enough. I find this all vaguely amusing and I laugh.
"Would you like to know what I have behind my back, angel?"
He shakes his head, although his eyes give me a different answer. Despite his fear, I can see that he wants to know. I kindly oblige and bring my hands around. He is relieved. I think he was expecting my whip or my belt. Instead it is a simple newspaper, nothing that can be hurtful, right? I toss it in front of him.
"Read it."
He does, leaning over to be able to make out the writing. I had to throw out his contacts a few days ago, and my angel does not see very well without them. Poor baby.
I kneel down in front of him as he reads, I do not want to miss the emotions play across his beautiful face as he realizes what the article says. It is an article about him, of course. It is about his "kidnapping" and about how much his family and friends miss him and about the reward that they have offered for his safe return. On top of the article sits a picture of his girlfriend and his mother, both looking suitably grief-stricken. How touching.
I watch his face in rapt fascination and am pleased to see that he does not disappoint me. He begins to cry almost immediately. Yes, darling, let me see that pain of yours. Let me taste it.
He looks at me, the tears are leaving his eyes and coursing down his cheeks. "Why did you show me this?"
Yes darling, give me your anguish.
"I wanted to show you what you can never again have. I wanted you to see that your old life is over and that you’re mine now."
He glances at the newspaper and whispers her name and I feel my muscles contract. He was told never to say her name again. Her name is nothing here. She is nothing here. I am the only thing that matters! Damn him! My hand connects with his cheek before I even realize that I’m going to hit him. His head snaps to the side from the force of the blow and he utters a small sound of pain.
"What did I tell you about saying her name?" I ask through clenched teeth.
"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I forgot…" He turns his face back to me and I marvel at how pretty the red mark looks on him. The smell of his fear is almost overwhelming.
I lean forward and half-push, half-pull him until he is on his back on the mattress. He grimaces and I can imagine that the unyielding handcuffs are digging into his back and his wrists. I climb on top of him, straddle him. Hands on either side of his head, I bring my face close to his. His tears have slowed.
When I speak, I speak slowly, clearly, my voice deadly. There will be no misunderstanding of my words. "The next time you say that bitch’s name in my house, I will cut out your tongue. Do you understand?"
He nods quickly. "Y-yes."
"Do you have any doubts that I would do that?" I ask.
"No, Amanda," he sobs.
"Good. Now angel, as much as I hate to do it, I’m going to have to punish you for your mistake." I smile at my own lie. I never hate to punish my angel. It is always such a pleasure.
"No, please! I said I was sorry. I’ll never say her name again. I swear to you!"
Ah the sweet torment. No one begs like my angel. No one. Beg some more angel.
"Please Amanda. Please…"
Oh yes angel. Perfect. Sweet shivers make their way down my spine at the sound of his voice.
I shake my head and watch in contentment as everything about him dissolves into pure misery. I place a tender kiss on his unresisting lips, then I straighten.
Then the punishment begins.