Chapter 35 - Azrael #2
“That’s it, little sinner. Show them what they’ve created. Take those laws they gave you, the things they’ve lied about, and use it against them. We’re going to turn you into a weapon they never saw coming.”
Her hand disappeared under her sweats, and a second later, her body arched again.
“You feel that?” I asked, my eyes trained on that hand. “That little bundle of nerves that sends vibrations of pleasure through you with every graze. That’s called a clit, and one day, I’m going to make it scream.”
Her body arched, her hand finding her breast again, pulling and twisting.
“One day, I’m going to show you everything they’ve kept from you.
The tears you will shed will be because of me.
I’ll show you a world in which you have never even dreamed, and unfortunately for you, when the dam breaks, it will shatter.
They’ll tell me to be gentle,” I purred, watching her writhe at the sound of my voice, “but I think what you need is to be shown the world you crave in all of its glory. Pain and pleasure go hand in hand, little sinner, and now that you know what your body can do, I’m going to push it right off the fucking cliff. ”
She tensed, her entire body going rigid, her lungs all but stopped before she collapsed onto the floor, panting.
She pulled out her hand and held it up, seemingly forgetting that I was there, I suppose.
Her fingers glistened.
“That’s your cum,” I told her, feeling her eyes on me but unable to look away from her dripping fingers.
“You crave to be depraved,” I hummed almost to myself.
“To writhe and pant in need. To drool and crawl and beg. Your body needs it. It needs more, and I plan to give you all of it. Everything in this world will be yours,” I went on, finding her eyes.
“I’ll make you feel as if you can’t survive without the things your body craves.
And then I’ll rip it all away and make you beg me for it back. ”
~ ~ ~
March 18th, 2023
“Should I expect you at service tomorrow?”
“Obviously,” Red replied. “Why are you at her house again?”
I leaned back on the seat of my bike, parked four blocks away from her house for precisely this reason. There was no need for her to know where Scarlett lived. Especially because she wouldn’t be living here much longer. “It’s no business of yours.”
“It is. What are you doing to her?”
“Raping her repeatedly,” I said evenly.
“Azrael,” she warned.
“You’re pushing, Red,” I sang. “You know how much I dislike that.”
“You’re going to have to come clean to us eventually, Az. If you want our help, we need to know why and what we’re helping you with.”
“Patience is a virtue everyone seems to loathe, have fun in the purgatory I’ve created.” I hung up, only for a text to come in a second later.
Red
You called me for a reason.
You want to tell us,
Az, your games aren’t more
powerful than your heart,
no matter what you choose to believe.
On the contrary. I had a reason for everything I did, just because they didn’t understand it, didn’t mean my heart and head were out of sync.
I shoved my phone into my back pocket and headed for her house.
She had been doing very well these last few days.
Her mind was absolutely extraordinary with how well she was able to lock away the information, and teaching her has allowed me to learn more about how much she was able to retain all those years at the church.
If my calculations were correct, she should have remembered almost everything they had said around her. All the better for me.
All I had to do was figure out a better way to unlock the memories that weren’t on the surface.
She had also masturbated every day, usually more than once.
Sometimes while I was there, but mostly while I was gone.
I had slipped a camera in that closet of hers.
I couldn’t allow her that much privacy, not when I knew what she was doing in there.
What she was thinking about. Not when there was a possibility that she might find her voice while in there.
She had become addicted to the feeling of it, and every time I physically watched her, I could see the pleading in her eyes. She wanted more. Something she couldn’t put a finger on. Something that her body craved that didn’t have a name.
I knew exactly what it was, and the very second we signed those papers, I planned on giving her everything.
I pulled up in front of her house and used the key around my neck to unlock her door, stepping inside before ever taking my helmet off.
She was never on the couch when I arrived. In fact, she spent most of her time in her closet now, practicing her sign language, drawing pictures depicting what was going on in her head, or touching herself.
I inhaled when I walked in this time, looking around the room, the scent of citrus and her perfume now coating the air. Much better than the scent of sweat and semen that had previously filled it.
I heard the closet door open, my eyes finding her bedroom door.
Her hazel eyes found mine directly the second she came into view, my chest tightening at the sight.
Her confidence had grown significantly in the last few days.
Giving her a voice, giving her the freedom to break the rules, had done wonders for it, but it wasn’t just that.
Her hatred and anger for the people in that church was also growing, giving her a stride in her walk that she had never had before.
I could see it now, reflected in her eyes.
The festering rage that had been humming under her skin for the last 19 and a half years of her life.
The lilt of insanity that mimicked the crack in my own soul. As if we were made of the same thing.
I could see the delusions of madness burning within her, echoing in her drawings, her paintings, her words. Everything about her called to the insanity within me, as if there was a blood drenched string between us, linking us in our perpetual delirium.
“Hello, my Hatter,” she signed as she stepped out of the room.
She walked like a feline now. Predatory, each step carefully thought out because it was never allowed before. She was never allowed to think for herself, to do anything without being told, and I had unlocked that cage for her.
I gazed down at her, tilting my head in her direction, a small smile twitching one corner of my lips up.
When my eyes found hers again, I found hers trained on my lips. “Little sinner,” I signed back.
Her eyes lit up, but other than a flex of the muscles around her mouth, there was no other way to tell how much joy she found in her nickname. She had yet to truly smile, not that I needed it to tell if she was happy, angry, scared, or sad.
Showing any real emotion in more than just slight shifts in her muscles would come later, for now, it was nice hearing her voice humming in my head.
“Do you have any pictures for me today?” I asked.
She paused a few feet away, studying my hand motions.
I signed to her in normal speed, rather than the slower speed we had been practicing. If she was going to become fluent, she needed to be challenged.
When I finished, her eyes lifted to my lips, narrowing for a millisecond before she signed back. “Yes.” She stood there, waiting for another second or two before she left on her own, heading for her bedroom.
That was something that would take a lot longer to break, I believe, allowing herself to do something without being ordered to do it.
Rather than getting on her knees and getting under the bed, this time, she opened up her closet door.
I walked over to the door and watched as she stretched up on her tiptoes, reaching for the highest shelf in her closet to get the drawings she had put up there.
For a moment, I imagined walking up behind her and grabbing the stack of pictures myself, her body less than an inch from mine, warm, small, weak, yet so very strong. I imagined the scent of her shampoo filling my nose as she lowered back down, her ass brushing against my cock.
My pants grew a little tighter, my hand tightening around my cane.
I was a monster, but even I knew fucking her now would only lead her down a terrible, crumbling road.
She didn’t fully grasp that she had a choice yet.
I couldn’t push the subject knowing that she mentally couldn’t grasp the concept of choice.
But I believe that by the time we were married, she would be there.
Even if she wasn’t, I didn’t think I could quite control myself knowing she was sleeping under the same roof as me, but I would cross that bridge when I got there.
Scarlett finally stepped back, falling onto flat feet and holding out a piece of paper to me.
I took it from her, tracking her hand as she pulled her hair out from behind her ear.
She hated when it was back in any sense of the word.
Up in a ponytail, tucked behind her ear.
The only thing she could stand was doing braids with small sections or doing a half up hair style.
So long as she could use her hair as a shield, she was comfortable.
I returned my attention to the paper. It was a sketch of my face, color in my eyes, but graphite everywhere else.
I had a sharp smile that split my face in two, every detail perfect down to the hairs on my head and the near invisible handful of freckles that dusted one side of my face, the scars that trailed my jaw, across my eye, my cheekbone, my neck, and across my lips.
Behind my head, the background of the picture, was a clock.
I had never seen me portrayed in such an evil yet calm light.
Never had I been ashamed of the scars I had, for I had earned them with pieces of myself, however, other than tattoos, scars were the most distinguishable feature on a person.
Especially when perfectly covering a good portion of the face.
It was one of the main reasons why I wore a mask everywhere I went, and the very reason why Thomas found me so terrifying.
His father had said as much during our many meetings in the process of me becoming a transporter.
He had told his father that the Devil had sent me to test everyone’s faith, and that the scars were a marking of Hell. If only they knew what had truly caused them.
2011
I breathed sharply through my teeth. In out. In out. In out. Spit flying from my lips, a ringing screaming in my ears, sweat pouring down my body.
The two orderlies continued to hold each of my arms behind my back, one of them pressing my head against the Pastor’s desk as his cum leaked from me.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
TICK TOCK.
I heard the ruffle of his pastoral robes. “Send him to Alaric,” he ordered. “They both need to be punished.”
Alaric was with the secondary Pastor.
The orderlies released my head, jerked my pants up and then forced me to a stand.
Everything was sore, screaming in pain, but it was nothing compared to the detached rage I felt burning in the pit of my stomach.
I needed blood, and these…these…insolent sheep were too scared of me to let me walk on my own.
They knew the carnage I could do to them for I had already proved myself this morning when the first orderly thought he could get away with raping me in my room.
They had me memorize their precious Bible, confess my sins, ask for forgiveness, yet look at them. Sinners, all of them.
The two orderlies dragged me down the hall to the fighting room. They shoved the door open and threw me to the ground painfully.
I landed on my hands and knees, the pain nothing compared to what was burning deep within me. They thought they were nurturing my belief in their god when in reality they were nurturing something far more sinister.
The laughter bubbled up from that sinister place. It sounded disjointed and sharp.
The smile that grew felt the same. Evil incarnate.
I turned to them, sitting on my ass, unable to stop, and watched as their faces went from angry and irritated to fearful.
“What is he doing?” Rick asked.
“Stop that,” Bobby ordered. “Stop it!”
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t stop.
Didn’t they understand what they had done?
A lifetime in this place.
An eternity.
I had become the very thing they were trying to cleanse the world of, cleanse me of; Darkness.
They thought I was something to be purified before, but now? My soul was blacker than Hell itself.
“Where is Alaric?” Rick demanded, stepping into the hall. “Move,” he ordered Bobby.
Alaric must have been close.
Two seconds later and two more orderlies appeared, tossing Alaric in beside me.
He looked over, taking me in, confusion and then realization and hatred crossing his features.
“What’s wrong with him?” one of his orderlies asked.
“He snapped,” Bobby answered. “Give me your knife.”
He hesitated. “They’re not allowed to have weapons.”
“I don’t care, look at him,” he snarled, gesturing to me. “Give it to Alaric. He needs something extra today.”
I heard the knife skitter across the floor, sliding right to Alaric.
He sat back on his knees and picked it up, inspecting the blade before his eyes found mine.
“Give him all you’ve got, boy. He needs to repent,” his orderly stated.
The door shut behind them a second later, the only light coming in through the small window on the far side.
Alaric frowned and shoved himself to a stand, his hand flexing around the hilt of that blade.
I needed the wall to get myself up, my legs unsteady, my head spinning from lack of air. He had to do it. He had to do something, and we both knew it. We had been in this room before. All four of us at differing times. We understood the rules.
I shoved myself away from the wall, tears pouring down my face, that smile painful, the laugh agonizing. “Do it,” I challenged him, making my way towards him. “Do it,” I snapped.
His lip curled and he spun the knife around in his hand.
I was good, they taught me how to fight better than father ever did. They taught me everything, but I would never be as good as him. I could fight back all I wanted, and I would, but I already knew what the outcome would be.
They wanted to punish me for the darkness they were breeding inside of me but one day, I would be the monster they never saw coming.