C H A P T E R 23
C H A P T E R 23
CUT THE ROPE
Puppet
Play - ‘Leaving Tonight - The Neighbourhood’
I ’ v e slept on the idea and maybe I'm not in the right headspace but all I want to do right now is run . How do you run away from a nightmare that you can't wake up from? I turn slowly to face her and she's actually sleeping? That's a first. But instead of finding comfort in that, all I'm thinking about is getting out. I just need to get the hell out of here. Back to normality, back to civilization. I can't handle this paradox, it's suffocating me. My father killed someone and he hid that from me, from everyone. My entire life has been one big lie. No amount of sleep will ever change that and now he's no longer alive for me to confront him. All this time I thought he was caring for me when in reality he was scared I'd find out the truth. Find her . Or she'd find me.
I don't know what I'm doing but I'll figure that out later. I inch slowly, keeping my muscles as still as possible as I detach from the bed and she doesn't wake. This is so unusual of her, she never sleeps?
Heat warms my body, lathering the back of my neck as I tiptoe lightly against the wooden floor in fear that I'll wake her. Where would she hide the keys? She's gotten too comfortable. I pickpocket her jacket hanging off the back of the dining room chair and delicately pull keys out, careful not to jingle them. There are at least ten keys on here. Fuck sake .
I dig some more for anything that may possibly help me and my eyes almost burst as I pull a firearm from her pocket. I guess I'm going to need this if she realises I'm gone. Grit rolls down my throat, creeping as slyly as my feet will allow to the front door. I start trying each key. Come on. It has to be one of them . I'm running out of time and patience, shaking as I handle them, checking over my shoulder like a paranoid schizophrenic.Finally, a key turns and I gape with optimism. I don't even have shoes on. This is crazy . I pull the door towards me scrunching my face as it creeks, echoing through the house and a sudden wave of guilt washes over me that's soon interrupted and swallowed back down when the door slams shut nearly trapping my fingers inside.
“Ouch Puppet …” My heart stills, her tone so dangerous it immediately makes my eyes litter with water as she rubs her paint into my neck. “Just when I thought me and you were finally getting somewhere.” My hands tighten around the gun, squeezing it as my shoulders stiffen, being pushed against the door like the force of water as her fever etches into my back.“And after I confided in you…” her thumb caresses my cheek, wiping away at my guilt, like she's aiding my betrayal.
“Let me go Hays… Please…” I can feel every muscle lining her torso and I forget how big she actually is. How dangerous she really is, how much blood she has on her hands. I'm meddling with the Devil but something is telling me to keep prodding.
“Now why would I do that?…” Her voice leaves me breathless as I turn to face her, peering up at her blurry face, searching the pits of hell before me and my nerves are spiking my fire.
“I will shoot you.” There is no confidence behind my threat. I've never threatened anyone, but I also never thought I'd be chest to chest with a convicted murderer.She finds this laughable, shrieking at my empty threat like a psychopath. Logistically, I know I wouldn't be able to pull this trigger.“Let me OUT!” My grip tightens, indenting the metal into my frail fingers.
…
“Do you know the quickest point on a human's body for collateral impact?” Silence etches itself inside the cracks of unspoken words, but I already know my face is giving away the answer as I struggle to let any words slip out. I choke on the evaporating air seeping from my lungs as she rests her temple against the barrel of the gun.“Judging by the look on your face. I’d take that as a no. So it’s a good job I do. Because that's the last thing I want.” I stare intensely at her, trying to understand what on earth she is trying to say. She doesn’t want a quick death?
“ If I were you. I’d go for my heart.”
She whispers so calmly every nerve ending in my body is trying to burst out my skin.
“And don’t miss.”
My grip tightens along with every muscle in my body. She says it as if, if I were to mess this up, I’d suffer for it.
“I want it messy. I want you to watch me bleed out slowly. Innocence . I want it to hurt.”
I can see this death within her dead gaze locked on mine like I’m the key she’s been searching for. She wants to suffer. “ I want to watch the guilt seep out of your pretty little eyes as you realise how foolish you are. Can you handle that, Puppet? ” She wants us both to suffer. She wants to show me she was right, that killing her will solve nothing but riddle me with guilt she now carries. That removing My Nightmare will only create more sufferable sleepless nights.“If you’re going to do it. Do it properly.” Properly to her is inhumane? Which only peaks me to wonder why she gave my parents such a humane end.
“If you really want out, Little Dreamer . It's simple… Pull the trigger.” She clasps the barrel pressed firmly against her head, tilting it to align with her chest, holding it hostage against her heart.“All it takes is one biggggg squeeze… And you are free. Free to live your life as you wish. In fact, I urge you to do it Alora . Because if you don't. I will find you, in every village, town, city and I will not stop until we are this close again because you -” I'm sensing raw pain in her vocals and I don’t even think I want her to finish that sentence.
“Are. My. OXYGEN .”
My breathing labours as I glare at her with utmost confusion.
“I will stop at nothing to rain hell on anyone who thinks they can take you away from me..."
I'm looking for a meaning behind those words and they are staring me in the face.
“Do it…”
She's testing me. This game of cat and mouse is exhausting.
“Pull the trigger…”
She closes in on the space between us, grazing against my ear lobe, and my tummy flutters again. The hairs are rising and my irrational thoughts take over.
Power . I feel it, I feel that power she speaks of. Her life's at the end of this gun and I am now holding her life in my hands.Pull it and be free of this nightmare. Or get out and suffer her chasing me to the ends of the earth, just as she did my father. Either way, neither are feasible. She's made her stain, wormed her way into my subconscious. Even 6ft under, I will picture her face even when trying to lay at rest and escape my reality.
My impulses win, pulling the trigger until it clicks. Squeezing my eyes to soften my blow.
…
Play - ‘Cut The Rope - Charlotte OC’
“Did you really think I'd make it that easy Puppet?… ” Her paint is rubbing against my cheek and I can no longer feel the heart beating in my chest. She's taken it from me.“Did daddy teach you, nothing?!...” The guns ripped from my hand, thrown out of sight and out of mind. Leaving just us as shields against one another but I know she doesn't need a weapon to harm me.
“First rule.”
Her fingers trace my chin, tugging my focus to meet her gaze.
“Always, check the mag…”
She's being vigorous yet her words are constructive criticism. Much like training. I've pushed her and still she resists her urges to punish me.
…
“You'd be dead right now.” Her middle and index finger rest against my temple, mimicking a blow. Paranoia lacing her tongue. She's fearful of my death. That's not the words of someone who wishes to see your end. It's the words of someone who wants to see you fight. She's irritated that I'd of lost that fight for being too timid.
“Are you going to hurt me?…” I think some sick and twisted part of me secretly wants her to break her morals. I'm tampering with her nurture to harm, against her natural instinct to protect what is now her property. Under her roof, that is all I am.
A Puppet.
“Have I hurt you?” It's been two months and truthfully, she's not laid a finger on me that wasn't deserved, and no amount of prodding has driven her to my death. Only drawing my curiosity out.
“No…” I look at my feet so she doesn't see the desperation in my face. Honestly . I cannot feel right now. I'm in a state of limbo. A numbing sensation worse than death. I feel like I'm trying to chase some sort of high? Fear . I should be terrified to face the consequences but instead I'm drawing them out.
“So why would I start now?...” I've done everything I possibly can to make her react and still she resists me, why is she resisting me!?
“Because I tried to escape…” Maybe escaping wasn't my goal. Maybe I wanted a fight. Because at least physical pain is tangible. You cannot escape its wrath.
“Do you want me to hurt you?...” I don't make a sound as she forces me to look at her. My silence is her answer. I'm pleading in a language I know she'll understand, too afraid to say the words out loud.
…
“Aahhhhhhh… I get it nowww… This was all a little game. Wasn't it?” I don’t want to admit it to myself but I think she is right. My entire life I have been hidden from the world. From danger, from anything that could ruin my perfect little life, I've never experienced adrenaline, fear. I’m learning that it’s exhilarating. It makes you feel alive. And I know I sound crazy, but this house has held much worse. I’m finally beginning to understand the way she was built. Broken pieces from different machinery not meant to go together.
“Are you going to punish me?…” It wasn’t a question. It was an invitation, and I don't even know what I'm inviting in but something inside me is yearning for physical touch. To lose myself in someone else. Is that normal?
“Do you want me to punish you sweetheart ? Just say the word baby and I will give you the most mind-blowing punishment you've ever fucking had.” She made that sound so inviting I drop my jaw as my muscles relax, feeling a beat between my legs as her thumb finds my bottom lip in the dark.
“What does that mean?…” How can pain be pleasurable? Is that what she is implying? That’s absurd.
“Let's find out Innocence .” I don't know what the hell that means but it can’t be good, and that nickname sends chills up my spine, the irony of the word against the actions we commit on one another. Violence is far from innocent, it’s malignant.
The key still sits in its designated hole, the door is still unlocked. She grabs my arm, pulling me away from the door, turning me to face it like a noose as she slowly opens it and for the first time in two months, a breeze cascades beneath my nightgown. My inner voice hums at the sensation. I've not stepped outside since that night and part of me is now intimidated by the idea. She still has a hold of me, so close to my neck I can feel her breathing on it as she groans in a coarse tone.
“You are my Puppet. And I, your Puppeteer . Your next move will only be determined by my hands Little Dreamer. If you think you can outsmart me -” A cold silence surrounds me as her lips run the length of my neck until she reaches behind my ear, sending dead spirits to pass through me.
…
“ Cut the rope.. .” A metaphor for the tie we have to one another. She pulls my strings. She has my life in the palm of her hands, orchestrating my every move, every breath I take, every noise I make. Logistically, a puppet is nothing without their puppeteer, but she’s letting me try anyway. Try to move without her.
I glare at the overgrown garden lit up only by the reflection of the moon. It’s dark out and I have nothing to cover me. It’s freezing, but I can’t back out now. I wanted this. I wanted to run. She’s letting me run but what am I running to? What am I running for? I can feel her eyes scolding the back of my head and my heart is beating so loudly I can hear it in my ears.
“I’ll give you a head start.” She lets go and I can hear her boots tap the floor as she backs away from me, giving me space. Allowing that dark cloud over my head to fade so I can think clearly.
Play - ‘OXYTOCIN - Billie Eilish’
I need to run. Now.
I take off, squinting at the chipped stones and uneven ground beneath my feet, I haven’t a clue where I am or where the hell I’m going but there are a cluster of trees surrounding the property. I lunge for the darkness, hiding in amongst them like an animal trying to navigate my way through the pitch black, barely able to see my hands in front of my face. I suddenly fear I may get lost, but why am I worried, that is what I want, to get away from her. Away from here. But something is telling me that is near on impossible. I could fly to the other side of the world and she’d still manage to find me in a crowd full of people. She’s made sure I am perfectly clear of that. This isn’t me escaping. This is me partaking in her little game, and for some reason, I’m enjoying it. This is quieting my mind, making me figure out how to survive instead of glossing over my imperfect little life.
I have nothing left. What am I really fighting for if not to fall right back into her hands. I think a part of me has now latched onto her kindness . Starving people will do anything. I am starving. Starving for affection, love, someone to hold me. She held me yesterday when she didn’t need to. She slept beside me when I encompass a picture she should loathe. We are the same words in a different font.
Collateral Damage.
It’s been a few minutes and I stop to take a breather, I must be a good quarter of a mile now? I didn’t hang about. Searching through the trees for some sort of life but there is nothing. She really does live in the middle of nowhere. I'm so out of breath my vision is going fuzzy trying to concentrate on a focus point. I just need to find a road. I listen to the sound of my own heartbeat, staring up at the moonlit sky between the trees and take in the view just in case this goes south. I know it will, but that’s because I secretly want it to.
I knew the mag was empty. That is why I fired it. If there is one thing my father did teach me, it was how to load one up. A father in the force had its perks after all, I just wanted to see how she would react, push her buttons and it worked. She finally snapped.
I get lost in thought, imagining her poor mother and it fuels my motivation to keep running. I need to run that image out of my head but it’s buried deep. I stop once more and I've not seen, nor heard any sign of her. I must have lost her now surely. I lean up against a nearby tree, the bark digging into my exposed skin as I try to tune into the noises around me but all I can hear is the rustling of wind in the trees and the odd owl. It’s so peaceful it’s making me teary. I forgot how beautiful the outside world is, it’s almost overwhelming.
A twig cracks behind me and my heart stops in its tracks, eyes glued to the leaves still moving, jumping out my skin as a small animal jumps out from the bushes, rolling my eyes and calming my nerves. Phew… thank God. My life flashes before my eyes as her distorted face emerges from between the trees, cracking another twig in her wake, hitching my breath as I turn to run the opposite way. Whiplash almost snaps my neck and I yelp out a cry into the empty void as she grabs the ends of my hair bringing me to my knees, cutting open my porcelain skin against the rough bark, peering down her nose at me like her next victim. Her clown makeup is something of nightmare fuel between the trees, dark and desolate with only us to occupy it.
“Now. About that punishment Puppet .”
…
Shit.