C H A P T E R 26
C H A P T E R 26
COPING METHODS
Puppeteer
I t's been quite a few days since our antics in the woods and I've refrained from speaking about it but I can't get that image out of my head. Her . Bent over for me like a good Little Puppet . She's submissive at heart and part of me loves it. Her walls are cracking and soon, soon I'll have her exactly where I want her. She's making it extremely difficult to keep my hands off her. It's like she's purposely been dangling herself in front of me. Wearing nothing but her pants and my T-shirts. I suppose I should do a shop run for her at some point but I've never enjoyed shopping and I don't plan on starting now. What does a sunflower like her even wear? I'll just have to endure this torture until I can break her. She will crack and I'll show her exactly what she is really craving.
Me .
My boot breaches the front door with a bag and I’m getting army tackled by Shep as she sits reading the book I took for her with her feet up on my coffee table like she owns the joint. But I'm glad to see her looking more comfortable, as bored as she is.
I put the bag by her feet but she's fixated on me, glaring at me like the first time we met.
Play - ‘The Beach - The Neighbourhood’
“Your- your arms-” I suppose I've become too comfortable.
“You should see the other guy.” I grin like a sinner, peering down at the blood smothering my skin, noticeable even over my tattoos. This one got a little messy, but I took what I needed and I'm one step closer to getting the hell out of here. Hell, I may even take my plaything with me.
“Will you ever stop?” I wish I could say yes. But I can't. I don't have it in me.
“Do you want me out of your hair?” She's mute, frowning at me with adorable frustration.“That's what I thought…” She knows everything now. It's up to her whether she wants to come to terms with what I do and deal with it. Or we can go back to square one.“Open the bag.” I'm trying to make amends here. The quicker she gets over my ways of living the quicker we can move on.
“I'm not hungry…” Her arms cross, peering up at me and I sigh heavily.
“Just- open it.” We exchange a heated glance, holding it, until she reaches slowly for the bag, frightful of me which I find highly ironic considering she's been needing for my physical touch every night since our little game . Does she think I haven't clocked onto the way her body responds to my presence? We've gone from a pillow fort to a closed space at night.
She pulls from the bag and the little girl inside her comes out, holding onto a bar of chocolate.
“Where did you?-” I suppose she is rubbing off on me. But I couldn't help myself.
“Merry Christmas.” I mock. I managed to find one at my nearest gas station. Hershey’s was a rare delicacy for me so she better be bloody grateful.
“Thank you…” I've never seen her open something so fast in my life.“Do you celebrate?” Does she mean holidays?
“What?” I walk over to cleanse myself clean. It took far too long to track the bastard down, I suppose I let my anger get the best of me and his face got the brunt of it. It did nothing for me, all I could picture was her god damn face and he wasn't even my average target. He was just an identity I was stealing. I almost thought about letting him walk too. What the fuck has gotten into me?
“Christmas?” She asks, I shake off my recent endeavours, wanting to vomit in my mouth at the word.
“God no.” Christmas is the last thing I want to be thinking about and I can't escape it when I venture beyond these four walls. It's plaguing the streets and I can't wait for it to be over. Christmas morning is four days away.
“Yeah…I was never much of a fan either. But my mom. She'd cook these really nice shortbread biscuits, and make me help her decorate the tree. She was always awful at it.” She breaks a chunk off, laughing to herself as she glares at the ceiling picturing her perfect little life to keep herself sane. I clamp my eyes shut, pushing my guilt down and swallowing it. She probably doesn't even know what day it is.
“I'm sure it looked beautiful.” I'll just play along. For right now I'll let her reminisce if it makes her feel better.
“ What did I say about this shitty decor Lillie. Take it down. Now.”
“Rick. It's for our little girl. It's Christmas. Try to make this memorable. For her.”
“NOW LILLIE.”
“Please. Rick. Please, don't- don't make me do this.”
“We're gonna have a great Christmas. Just the three of us. You'll see Darling. It will be. Perfect…”
“ Hays? …Hays. Hey -” Shit. I have her wrist in my hand, a knee jerk reaction and her eyes are popping out of her skull as Shep nuzzles his nose into my hip. “You ok? It's like you were in some sort of trance?” My fingers are tearing the sofa open as I grip tightly. Trying to erase its voice etched into my motherboard.
“Yeah- yeah I'm fine. Just- enjoy the chocolate.” I let her go, and I hate that she's in the middle of this . I HATE IT . All I wanna do is show her my anger. Make her afraid of me. She is no longer trembling in my space. I gripped her wrist so hard I could have snapped it and she just stood there and took it.I need to punch these demons out of me before they try to inhabit themselves inside of her.
I find the basement, not remembering how I even got down here and I waste no time beating the crap out of my punching bag. Picturing his face . Sweat drips down my spine, my tank top is soaked and this fury is not fucking off so I think of the next best thing as my fist meets the wall. I don't flinch. Sucking in a satisfied breath, letting the pain subdue me as I drown in the sharp ache. Her pretty little mark on my hand is a trophy to remind her how strong she really is, and how she weakens me. I've not felt feelings this strong for months. She's like a drip. Slow but steady, keeping my blood pumping when I should be dead. I was meant to die. Now I wanna run? Fly away? What's gotten into me? I just killed to steal an identity when I should be drowning at the bottom of Lake Michigan.
Just thinking about her slows my heart rate. My thumb runs the length of her mark on my skin, focusing on her strength, her ability to control. She has this ability to contain this pain, lock it in a box and keep it at bay, but she needs to let it out. I want her to use me as a punching bag. Surely it isn't healthy to hold it all in. She acts like she's totally fine but I know she's losing herself. And I cannot lose the little life left inside her.
Never .
??
“ W hat are you doing?” I'll be honest. I don't even know, but this attic is the last place I thought I'd be.
“Just don't let go of the ladder.” I remind her sternly hearing that giggle, and she dare let go, she'll receive another whooping.
“Maybe I will.” I pause. Turning to peer down at her, my white face paint haunting her through the trap door in the ceiling.
“Do you want to bend over again for me, Puppet ?” Her perky little face glows bright red, staring down at her tiny feet trying to shy away from her guilty desires and avoids the question.
“What are you looking for?” My fingers graze the dusty wooden beams, reaching for corroded boxes and plastic bags. Trying to block out the memories I'm sifting through. It reeks of the past up here so I don't want to be up here any longer than I need to.
“Believe it or not. I have something you might like.” I forgot how much junk I had up here. I really need a clear out.
“What could you possibly have that I would like? Besides a baby photo album. Now that, I would love to see.” There's that snigger again and it tugs at the corner of my lip.
“You can keep wishing Little Dreamer .” Not happening. I shuffle through a box of books, old art and stationary and finally come across my little find, pulling it from the wreckage, wiping the dust off the leather cover. “Here.” I make my way down the ladder, passing her the ancient scroll of empty pages.
“What is it?” She always looks like she's never received a gift in her life, taking it lightly from my hand.
“I thought you might want to write. Thoughts, feelings, stories. All that soppy stuff.” She needs an outlet. Something to vent her emotions into as I know she isn't exactly going to hand them over to me.
“Excuse youuuu. If I remember correctly, you said it was beautiful . Or was that just a ruseeee.” A ruse? Maybe so. But doesn't mean it wasn't true.
“If you would like to know, I meant what I said.” She examines the pages, a blank canvas to stain with words.
“How can I trust you won't read whatever I write?” Awww. How cute. She thinks I'm interested enough to snoop?
“The same way I trust you won't write anything mean about me.” I know it will be full of nasty things, but I can make her feel guilty, just this once.
“I can't promise anything.”Her dimples light up her face and I just want to pinch them.
“Think of this as a, errr- early Christmas present.” If she thinks for one second I'm going to go out and buy her something she has another thing coming.
“Well-”
she inhabits a deep breath.
“Thank you. I shall write all my - ‘soppy’, cringy writing.” She's acting so, normal? This feels so normal. A good feeling . And I'm shrivelling at the thought. Nothing about this should feel good, but she's making this feeling bearable.
“I'll be sure to get you a lock and key Innocence .” There is that look I've been trying to draw out.
Hope .
“I'm sure you have plenty lying around.” She gets snarkier every day and I secretly enjoy her bratty little mouth. It makes it so much more fun to mess with her.