Chapter 35
What lies behind a deal with the devil? A depraved soul?
The impossibility of turning back the time?
Or a blind desire to believe that everything will work out in the end?
That forbidden fruit will bring no misery?
Putting faith in the evil for selfless reasons is the same as becoming evil.
You think you can handle it, that you have the upper hand.
But it’s already too late. Your soul’s already burning, you just haven’t accepted it yet.
The dining room was going to be swarming with crime bosses that night. We’re talking mob kingpins with big money, big mouths on them and an interest in making deals.
In my circumstances, I realized only stealing could help me.
The manor had no cameras. People would leave their bodyguards outside. Small losses mean nothing to blood-stained hands.
They might not notice or care about it since they had a lot of money and only got more with each passing month.
But cash wasn’t my goal. I was aiming for jewelry. Only one piece of jewelry could cover that sum and help my mom.
I hated how quiet that week was. The deafeningly quiet times unnerved me.
I slept with the lights on, placing a chair to the door.
I didn’t believe peace could come into my life .
I was waiting for him. I was waiting for life to throw me into the claws of terror again at any moment.
I didn’t notice when the increased heart rate, near constant desire to defend myself and fight became parts of my everyday life. Danger was everywhere, and the calm served only as a harbinger of peril.
Sleepless nights allowed me to think over my plan and various workarounds. There was little time left, and mom had even less of it.
I was standing in a dress I couldn’t zip up on my own.
It was a white satin maxi dress with no sleeves, draped, with a slit to the thigh. My hair was pulled back, a couple of loose strands framing my face. The makeup was done. The only thing that’s left was the lipstick.
I looked like a sculpture one could see in a museum somewhere. I hated that. I didn’t want to be beautiful. Beauty was a curse. Beauty attracted a lot of attention, and in this world attention went hand in hand with suffering.
You always had to be on your guard. You could never relax and just feel beautiful.
I attempted to zip up the dress myself again. I couldn’t get the slider to move and gave up.
Sitting at the vanity table, I took a matte wine-colored lipstick and began to paint my lips slowly and carefully.
Would this lipstick get smudged tonight? Would my body be covered in bruises? Would this dress be soaked in blood?
Would I survive tonight?
The goal gave me strength and calmed my trembling hands and the racing thoughts flashing through my mind.
I heard a knock on the door.
Eric walked into the room and my heart picked up its pace. This happened every time against my will. I’d love to be able to control this, but it’s impossible. It’s like restraining yourself from breathing. Sure, you’d be able to hold your breath, but only for a minute.
He used to evoke paralyzing, mind-numbing fear in me. And now he made me want to reach out for him as I question my own sanity.
I tried to focus only on the fear, but fear and desire seemed to be intertwined. So all I could do was ignore them and hope they’d fade out as suddenly as they flared up.
His eyes looked intently at my lips in the reflection. I pursed them into a line and rubbed them together.
His fingers touched my neck, and my whole body began to sing the telltale song of desire.
He kept stroking it and I had to hold myself from snuggling up to him. His fingers slid down my bare back to the slider, sending pleasant, tingling sensations throughout my body and clouding my mind. He zipped the dress up carefully.
He stood behind me like an angel of death, ready to take me with him into the afterlife.
I stood up and brushed against his hand with my fingertips as I was walking past him. An electric charge ran up my arm, flying straight to my heart.
I opened the closet and took out a pair of black patent-leather high-heeled shoes with red soles. They looked tall and uncomfortable. Let them be a reminder that I should never let my guard down.
I sat down on the bed and was about to pick up the shoe from the floor when Eric beat me to it. He got on one knee.
“I want to cancel our arrangement.”
His hand froze for a couple of seconds, then he slid the shoes on my feet, first on my right foot, then on the left.
My heart was thumping treacherously, sending out pleasant sensations and craving his touch as my brain was getting carried away, waiting for his response .
“Do you really?”
He lifted his head, still standing on one knee.
I stared at my hands, avoiding his gaze.
“Yes. I realized this isn’t for me. I can’t...”
“Look me in the eyes.”
I anxiously swallowed a lump in my throat and looked into the bottomless void of his dark eyes.
“Now tell me you never want to sleep with me again.”
“I... I want to end our arrangement.”
His gaze sucked all air out of my lungs.
He put his hand on my knee. He began to stroke it gently, and I felt the heat spread and grow languidly.
He stroked my leg, moving closer to my already wet underwear.
“Do you still want it?”
I didn’t understand what he was asking about because my mind was trapped in a fog while my body called out to him.
He took his hand away and kissed my knee, whispering,
“Liar.”
My breath caught in my throat and my heart skipped a beat, racing even faster.
I stood up and was about to leave when he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him in one fell swoop.
With my left hand I pressed against his chest, trying to put some distance between our bodies.
His right hand rested on the side of my face. His lips moved closer and I closed my eyes, waiting for a kiss.
“Do you really think you mean anything?”
I opened my eyes.
“Do you think your life’s worth something? Or maybe that you have a choice, any decisions to make or a life of your own? Or that your word means anything?”
I tried to break free from his grip, but it was viselike .
“You exist, eat, sleep, walk, breathe and blink only thanks to me. Your life is my life. It belongs to me completely and entirely. You don’t have freedom. No voice. No life. You’re my shadow. You will always be by my side. You’re gonna stay with me forever.”
A tear ran down my cheek.
“I’m the one to decide when to break our contract.
When to take your life. When to make you choke on your tears.
When to let your blood pool on the cold tile floor.
When to make you cum on my cock. When to cause you enough suffering to make you feel your soul darkening, make you question if you even have a soul left in you. ”
His smile slowly grew wider and it made me furious.
“I hate you,” I spat.
I put all the anger, repulsion, and hatred I’d accumulated over all this time into my words. Those weren’t just words. Those were my sincere feelings towards him.
“But do you hate me bad enough?”
His lips touched mine and his hand held my head firmly, giving me no chance of escaping the kiss. His grip tightened as he deepened the ravenous kiss.
I bit his lip and got a taste of blood. This lit an even greater fire in him, and he began kissing me with the fury of a wild beast, devouring me greedily.
He finally pulled away and I immediately turned around, running away, trying to hold in the typhoon of emotions I loathed.
I wanted to slap and kiss him. Curse him out and get on my knees. Yell at him and get on top of him.
He caught up, pushing me into the door.
I turned around and met his furious gaze. He was ready to tear me apart, but he just squeezed my hand tightly.
As I walked down and saw the crowd, I tried to let go of his hand, hoping that he’d be more interested in talking than dragging me around .
He leaned towards me, and his deep, icy voice hissed in a half-whisper,
“Try letting go of my hand once again, and I’ll fuck your face, and then your pussy in that room over there. I won’t let you cum. I will fuck you for my own enjoyment, not yours, so think again.”
I wanted to let his hand go, to see if he could really make me do it. I wanted to push his buttons even more. To see if he would really do it.
Taking a deep breath, I began to tell myself I shouldn’t play these games, because tonight I was on a mission.
So I squeezed his hand as hard as I could.
I hoped it’d hurt him.
He leaned in and whispered:
“I knew you like it when I’m rough. Next time, simply ask me, vita mea , and I will make you scream with pain.”
I turned away, not wishing to let him see the expression I had, which I despised with all my guts. I felt like scratching it off my face. I wanted to hurt myself.
He came up and talked to everyone without introducing me. The scenario seemed to be repeating itself, and it made my stomach turn.
All faces seemed new, all names sounded hollow. I didn’t recognize anyone, nor did I remember them. My feet ached from the clunky heels, making it difficult for me to concentrate on finding my prey.
Live music was playing. Waiters brought in food and cleared away empty plates. The tables were laden with appetizers.
Finishing another conversation, Eric suddenly let go of my hand and walked away, leaving me in the middle of the room without a word.
I headed for the bar and asked for a martini. I couldn’t get through the night without alcohol .
I sat down at the bar and began to leisurely sip my drink. The alcohol felt smooth and didn’t take my attention. I needed something stronger to give me courage.
A slow melody started playing. Couples began to fill the room.
A nasty feeling crawled into my chest like poison from a snake bite when I saw Eric with that same brunette. They were dancing together.
I couldn’t take my eyes off them. She smiled and said something to him. He smiled back at her, listening carefully.
His smile hurt me.