C H A P T E R 50
CONSUMING HER MONSTERS
Puppeteer
I break the basement door open with the force of my boot, opening it up to the trauma laying heavy in the air as I push her in front of me, making our way down the creaky stairs until we are in front of the barricaded cell glaring at it with distant strength. I try to break my fear as I rip the panels off the door frame, clicking the key in the door with difficulty where it’s seized up leaving it free to enter, smothered in cobwebs and dust a decade old.
My chest shakes my upper body with anxiety as she peers at me with unknowing resistance. I turn the knob and let the door swing open. A black void of desolate screams echo back to me as she walks through it, finding her way to my calls, carving crescents into my palms as she disappears into the room, holding my breath as I follow her in.
The atmosphere holds such a heavy weight on my shoulders I feel nauseous, fumbling for the light switch on the concrete wall, lighting up my past with nothing to hide behind. I haven’t been in this room since he died. I’d been avoiding it. I thought if I pretended it wasn’t here that this ache would eventually dissipate but it never has. This room carries haunting memories hard wired like the night I lost her. A box filled with all my forbidden whispers. My cries seeped into the walls casing this asylum that is meant to be my home.
Play – ‘The Line – Twenty One Pilots’
She freezes, soaking in my secret, glaring at the chair in the middle of the room. A wooden structure with no back, braced with heavy duty metal buckles on the arms and legs. Walls scattered with various tools. My own personal torture chamber.
“I don’t understand? You do this? To people?” She studies my vice, tracing the grubby wood with her fingers making me squint like she’s wedged a knife inside me.
“No.” Of course that would be her first thought. I have kept it from her after all so she’s bound to assume the worst of me. Exactly like she should.
…
“Oh my god…” The penny drops. Staring at me in disbelief. The face of a girl who is regretting digging up my grave. Exposing the rotting bones and spirits that keep me tied here, closing in on her ears, bringing her to tears. She’s absent-minded as she glares at me with disturbance bleeding from her eyes.
“Hays…” I don't want to hear her pity. I don’t want her sympathy. I don’t want any of it. She pushed this. She wanted to see my demons in the flesh and now she can sink in her fucking guilt.
“You just couldn’t leave it alone.” Her face is painted with shame, swallowing all those unspoken words as she gawks at my demise. Right here. In this room. I am an apparition of myself. A ghost haunting my own grounds. Stuck in an eternity of suffering with my own devil and angel, and now she knows that too.
“I’m so sorry- Hays…” She moves towards me and I step back, she doesn’t want to come near me right now.
“Bit late for that now, don’t you think?” I can feel unwelcome tears trying to cut through my face, tightening my jaw in frustration.
“Show me.” My brow burrows, glaring at her with utter shock, trying to make sense of her words. “Show me Hayden. I want to feel it. I want to harbour your pain.” I stare blankly in disbelief.
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous.”
“I want to understand your suffering!”
“You think experiencing just a glimpse of my suffering is going to fix things?! I’m not laying a hand on you, Alora .” She ignores me, placing her ass in the seat and my temperature rises, feeling my blood boil beneath my skin as I stare at myself.
“You’re a clown baby girl. A circus act of disappointment.”
“What more do you want from me?!” Being in here is ringing my ears with a need to destroy my own mind, blanking as she refuses to move.
“Alora. You need to get out, right now.” My blood buzzes underneath my flesh, crawling out of my wounds as I look down at my palms, hallucinating my harm as the back of my hands burn.
“No.” My back itches, trying to think of all the reasons I should let her breathe right now.
“Fucking hold still. You burn so pretty for me.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I want to feel what you feel. If that is the only way you’ll let me in, I’ll do it.” She is out of her god damn fucking mind and I’m losing mine being down here. I’m suffocating.
“You just don’t quit, do you,” She’s tampering with raw, destructive fire and I will burn her alive until she’s merely a skeleton if she’s not careful.“do you realise what you’re asking of me?!” She hasn’t got a clue, but she’s too delusional to care right now, she is so high on this redemption, dormant inside me that she is so desperately clinging on to, it’s pathetic. It’s agonising how deeply she finds worth in me.
“I know that you need to face whatever it is that you’re running from. He is no longer here to harm you.” My knuckles whiten, channelling my frustration into my palms so I don't unload it into her pure, untouched face, sculpted to haunt my dreams, reminding me of the man I stole from her. I’m beginning to hate the fucking sight of her in all her naive, untainted glory.
“I would be very careful with what you say if I were you...” Her ability to push my buttons is impressive but it won’t be when I cut off her fucking oxygen.
“Hurt me…” I'm trembling with this vile need to prove to her I am the monster she doesn’t think I am, just to prove a point. I am tired of being something I am not, for her. She’s clinging to this lust for affliction I've barely begun to play with but this is not lust . This is the work of a Devil. This is cruelty beyond my comprehension. Insidious nature even I can't understand. Harm to a child meant to be yours purely for fun, to fill your own twisted and sick desires. I’m a killer. But the real Devils who walk amongst us will always be the likes of men like him.
“Alora...” My fuse is about to run out, storming towards her, clutching at her throat so she looks at me, and she's ready to take everything, her eyes pooling with plead, knotting my throat with fury. Her fucking tears make me sick. She makes me sick. Begging for my suffering like it is going to somehow bring us closer together. She will run. Maybe this is what she needs, maybe this is the answer. Maybe inflicting my laceration will finally stop her digging for my coffin. It needs to stay fucking buried.
“Let me be broken with you.” I squeeze her throat tighter, surging my rage at her arrogant stupidity as she sobs helplessly, running on adrenaline, asking for death to come knocking and suddenly, her life means nothing to me . I snap the back of my hand across her cheek but she doesn’t look at me with anger, just that face full of empathy for the broken woman standing in front of her.
I grip her wrists to lie against the arms of the chair, clamping them down to keep her restrained. Consuming this darkness seeping into my lungs. This room. This house. Everything that I am. Everything this room made me.
“No one can hear you scream down here Hayley. No one. But I won’t stop you. Maybe you’ll scream so much you’ll give out soon.”
It’s like a part of him is crawling out of my mouth, manipulating my body like a puppeteer, unable to see her in front of me as I head to the back wall and pick out from the various selection of whips. Only tunnelling a pitch-black void as I run it through my fingers, breathing in that old familiar sting, remembering the way it felt to scream into nothingness. Knowing that no one was coming to save me. The way no one is coming to save my Little Dreamer.
“This is Love Alora. Let me show you why I will never Love you.” My heart thuds my eardrums, drowning out the sound of her cries of apprehension as I lift the back of her top up and over her head to cover her eyes. I never wanted this. I never wanted her to get this close, I never wanted to care for her, I never wanted to feel, to be a fucking hero, I never wanted her to see this part of my life but she will not, STOP . I just need her to stop, I need this all to stop. I need these feelings I cannot understand to go away. She will not give up on me, so I will give her a reason to. I will show her exactly who holds my life on strings. Still, even 6ft underground. She wants it to be her. She wants to think that she is curing the sickness inside of me but she’s not and she never will.
“Show her baby girl. Show her what love is.”
With one swift motion the whip snaps through the air, striking her flesh, slashing a light incision into her upper back on impact and nausea creeps up the back of my throat hearing her yelp, trying to hold in her cries just as I did.
“ Punishment is only discipline. You will learn, this is for your own good. Daddy is just trying to help you.”
Another follows. Not holding back. I feed her my demons through her wounds, piercing her skin with my LOVE . Hearing the understanding weep from her mouth as she cradles her heart, leaning into the seat, protecting it. From ME.
“Daddy loves you. I’m just trying to make you better? Can’t you see?”
I strike once more, blowing her unconscious due to the pain. She falls limp into her lap, hanging there like a corpse as I catch my breath, snapping back into reality once her crying stops, leaving me in deserted silence.
“What have you done, Hayley.”
My grip loosens, letting the whip fall to the floor heaving with culpability, glaring at her gashes realising what the hell I’ve done, stumbling for the vices around her wrists as I free her from their grasp. I cup her lifeless body in the palm of my hands as I push the fabric out of her eyes, moving the sweaty strands of hair from her face, checking for signs of survival as I lift her lids but she’s out of it.
“You are broken. Not even Daddy can fix you.”
“Oh my god… Alora… Baby I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I'm trembling with hatred, drowning in guilt as I hold her deadweight in my hands, cupping her hair behind the shell of her ears as I fight back the overwhelming surge of nausea, pulling her close to my chest, gripping her so tightly she might suffocate.
“I got you baby… I got you.” I lift her frail body from the seat, dragging her ghost into my arms as I walk her out of the room, cradling her like she’s never coming back and in this exact moment I realise, I need to let her go.
Now.
Today.
She needs to get away from here. She needs to spread her wings for me. She needs to run and have the pleasure of living the life I never had. I owe that to her.
I climb up the stairs, met with Shep waiting at the top patiently behind the door, following me to the bedroom as I place her on the bed resting on her side, memorising the Orion’s belt across her shoulder blade, tracing it with my fingers. My stars on the darkest of nights. My light . She has no idea what she’s done to me. But I care enough about her to let her find her own light. A life she deserves. A life without me in it.
Nausea breaks me into a hot sweat as I stare at her harm, finally running for the bathroom, hurling up my emotions as I gag on my wrong doings, vomiting into the toilet trying to figure out where the hell it all went wrong, where I'm meant to fit into this life and the answer is, I don't. I don’t fit anywhere, and I've come to terms with the fact that there is no place for me. Not even in hell. And certainly not in her arms. This crossed so many lines I never thought I'd cross. I hurt her, I became the Devil himself and I don’t think I will ever forgive myself for that.
I’ve truly become what I feared the most.