Insane (4)

Last night was magic.

Last night my angel and I celebrated our two week anniversary. We had a wonderful time. Well, I had a wonderful time. I don’t think the angel minded it too much though. I cooked a big dinner and undid his handcuffs and then we ate together. Then we drank two entire bottles of champagne. He drank from a paper cup of course; I wouldn’t want him using anything as a weapon against me. Afterwards I carefully put the handcuffs back on his chaffed wrists and laid his head down on my lap.

It was then that we shared our most honest moment. There in the softly lit room of concrete walls, my angel whispered to me, "I hate you."

"I know," I whispered as I stroked his soft hair. "I know."

And then I turned his face towards me and brought my lips to his. We kissed then; softly, slowly. The alcohol in his system must have weakened his defenses, because his tongue moved against mine for the first time ever. It was the sweetest kiss that we have ever shared.

It was truly a magical night.

And now it is a bright new day.

And it is playtime again.

I am very near my angel but he does not see me. He is asleep, his body curled up like a small child’s on the mattress. He knows I’m here though. I can tell he senses me by the way he moves in his sleep, by the small whimpers that escape his tender mouth.

I turn him over onto his back and smile as his eyes slowly flutter open. He groans when he sees me.

"Good morning beautiful. How did you sleep?" I ask ever so nicely.

He hesitates and looks at me as if trying to judge if he can still be honest. I smile wider.

"Not very well. I had nightmares," he finally says.

"You always have nightmares, don’t you my poor angel?" I ask as run my fingernails down his cheek. He shivers and I feel sparks of excitement run through my body.

"I…I guess so…" he says as he turns his head slightly.

With a mere touch of his chin, I bring his full attention back to me. "Tell me what would make those nightmares go away."

Again he hesitates. His eyes are confused. I think he is trying to figure out if I’m setting a trap for him. My angel is so smart. So beautiful and so smart.

"You can tell me. I won’t be angry." I compose my face so that I look kind, trustworthy.

"If I could go home…" he says softly; so softly that I almost don’t hear him.

I shake my head. "Well, since that isn’t possible, I have something else that will make your nightmares go away."

"What?" he asks, his voice full of suspicion.

I straddle his body and lean in close so that I can drink in the expression in his dark eyes. "Playtime," I say, knowing full well that playtime only gives birth to more nightmares.

His eyes widen as fear and resignation radiate through them. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, I am at his chest, my teeth already imbedded in his delicate skin. He cries out in pain and I sigh in pleasure against him. No one sings the song of pain as well as my angel.

No one.

I lift my head, savor the small agony on his face and then lower my head again.

And then I bite.

And bite.

I bite until his screams and pleas for mercy echo off the walls. I bite until his copper blood stains my lips red.

Yes darling, give me your pain. Give me every last drop of it. Give me everything you are…

As I continue to mark the struggling body beneath me, I begin to wonder if it isn’t time for the knife.

As I shift my head and prepare to drive my teeth into his shoulder, I hear a noise outside the door. I lift my head quickly and listen. My angel is still making noise, not allowing me to hear, so I place my hand over his mouth. "Quiet," I hiss.

Yes. There. I did hear something. Some kind of noise right outside the door. I climb off of my angel and begin walking towards the strange sound. I only walk three steps before the door opens with a frightening crash of splintered wood.

NO!

There are men coming at me. Men running into the room. Into my room. My sanctuary. They hold guns and they are waving them, shouting at me to get down on the ground.

Bastards! No! This will not happen! This cannot happen. I feel one of the men slam into my body and suddenly I am on the ground, turned on my stomach and there are handcuffs on my hands.

I’m screaming. I’m shouting, but the words that fly out of my mouth make no sense, not even to me. Still, I continue to scream.

I am hauled to my feet while the animal that slammed me down begins to read me my rights. My rights! They’re arresting me…they are actually arresting me. I spit into the animal’s face so that he’ll shut up. His voice is making my head hurt.

He stops to wipe his face and my eyes turn away from him. They turn towards my angel, lying there sobbing, surrounded by strangers as they try to comfort him.

Bastards.

No one comforts my angel but me.

"We can’t get these restraints off. Do you know where the key is?" one of the bastards asks.

The angel looks at him, then at me. Don’t tell him angel. Don’t you dare tell him. I will be so angry with you if you tell.

"The keys are in her back pocket," he says as his voice cracks. He looks away from me.

Oh angel. You have betrayed me. My heart sinks into sadness as I close my eyes. I hear the animal reading me my rights again and this time I do nothing to stop him. I listen, then affirm my understanding of them.

My angel has betrayed me. Nothing else matters now. My tears begin to fall as they lead me away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sixteen months later…

 "Hello Amanda. Please come in."

"Hello doctor."

"Have a seat."

"Thank you. So…why did you want to see me doctor?"

"Well, Amanda, as you already know I believe you have made some amazing progress here. Truly amazing."

"Thank you doctor."

"Don’t thank me. It was all your doing. Your hard work, your willingness to participate in your therapy, your willingness to make yourself better."

"I couldn’t have done it without you doctor. I owe you so much."

"No, I would never hurt him again…"

"What is it Amanda? Why are you crying?"

"It’s…it’s just that when I think about what I did to that poor man, the hell that I put him through…it just tears me up inside doctor. I’m so ashamed of the things I did. I’m so horrified by them."

"I know you are Amanda. I know. And your heartfelt remorse is one of the reasons that I’m recommending that you be released from here."

"Doctor, did I hear you right?"

"You certainly did. You are ready Amanda. Ready to go back in the world and be a productive member of it."

"Doctor! I…I don’t know what to say."

"The look on your face says enough. Now if everything goes well, you should be out of here by the middle of next week. How does that sound?"

"Like the most wonderful news I’ve ever gotten in my entire life! Thank you doctor! Thank you!"

"You’re very welcome Amanda."

"Thank you for believing in me. I won’t let you down doctor."

"I know you won’t."

I walk out of the doctor’s office and close the door gently behind me. Then I smile. Not the sweet, tremulous smiles that I give the moron doctor or the nurses. No, I smile my real smile and for a moment I almost break out into a fit of giggles. Musn’t do that. Only insane people giggle for no reason, and I am NOT insane. I am not, although I’ve had to pretend for more than a year that I was. And then I had to pretend that I was getting all better. Shit, Julia Roberts looks like a rank amateur compared to me!

As I walk down the hallway to my room, I begin to think about all the things I will do when I get out of this hellhole. Go shopping, eat at Taco Bell, drink some cold beer…go visit Christopher Kirkpatrick.

Oh yes, Chris and I have to talk. My beautiful Judas and I need to talk.

And our talk will be nice and long and…intimate.

I smile.

End.

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