Desire becomes Her

Chapter 4

4

She followed Mr. Caringer down the hall toward his suite.  He was on a cheaper floor than she and Lucian, the hall was decorated differently than their floor. When they stopped at his room, he opened the door with the key card and motioned for her to go in.  She reluctantly did and when the automatic lights popped on and she saw the camera mounted on a tri-pod she turned around and started walking the other way. "I don't know what he promised you, but; no way."

"No, no, wait Miss Giovanni, it's not like that, it's not like that.  I just want to document."

"Document...hah, that’s a new way of putting it.”  She pushed past him and went for the door.

"He promised me you would cooperate.  He gets my wife for a few hours, I get you. We had a deal and I know he doesn't break them.  You wouldn't want to make him angry now would you?" She stopped a moment and thought about it.  It might be worth the beating.  She didn't do this kind of stuff."He said I would never see another case like you. Ever. That you are a few and far in-between.  I just want to see them."

"Do you get your kicks over stuff like this or something?  I'm not a doll, and I don't do fetish.  You touch me and you will regret it."  She knew what he was getting at. He wanted to see the wounds.  He wanted to see the holes in her wrists and feet, the scars on her back, the slice under her rib.  The tiny pin-pricks and scratches from the crown of thorns in her hair line and scalp. She shifted her weight to one hip, crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him, waiting for an answer. He was a little taken aback at how she had reacted.

"Documentation of Christian history is what I do.  I have books out, I have references, I assure you I'm not into fetish either, and I just want to see them.  I have to see them."  His eyes were a little wild, like it was something he had waited all night for and now that it was right in front of him, and refusing, was overwhelming.

She stood there and contemplated. He had spoken of his books and his research.  But his eagerness was bothersome.  After a few minutes she sighed.  "Fine."  Walking over to a table and chairs, she sat down and started to unravel the gauze around her wrists.  He got his camera ready, a pen and paper to write notes and sat down next to her.  The gauze had a yellowish spot on them where the oil had leaked through.

"I'm just going to ask a few questions?"

"Yeah, whatever..."

"Okay...okay..."  He got out a tape recorder, tested it and then set it between them. "Subject is a 22 year old female Caucasian.  About 5'6, 130 lbs... Please state your name?"

"Addison Maria Giovanni."

"And how long has this been happening?"

"About 5 years."  She rose a brow.  This was weird.  She felt like she was in a movie, or being interrogated.  He was writing as she spoke. 

"Hmm...  That's unusual.  This doesn't normally happen to people so young."

"So I've been told." Her voice was blunt, she wanted this over with. She wasn't fond of being so exposed. 

"May I look...?"  He pulled a surgical probe from his brief case and pulled a lamp over.  She put her right hand on the table, palm up so he could take a look.  "This liquid, it's always there?"

"It's oil, and yes, most of the time."  She winced a little as he took the metal probe and tried to push aside muscle and ligaments.   It started to bleed and he pulled the probe out.  He spoke into his recorder.

"It appears that ligaments, and the bones of the wrist have been pushed up, the ulna and radius bones of her arm pushed back and around.  Muscle...gone in that area. Like it was just...punched out by a cookie cutter..."  He probed it again. "It only bleeds when I touch it..."

"Then maybe you should stop f*****g touching it..."  She glared at him and grabbed the gauze she had set aside and dabbed at it.

"And you have full movement of your hands?"  She lifted her hand, wiggled her fingers a bit and then flipped him off. "Okay. When this started you were...addicted to h****n, pain medication...sex?" He raised a brow and a grin appeared on his face but the look she gave him quickly erased it.

"The s*x was a getaway; the pain medication went with that.  h****n came when I couldn’t bear the pain anymore."

"You were admitted to a state psychiatric facility when you were 19.  Had an affair with your therapist and was moved to another facility..."

"Moved to another facility?  Is that how they explained my disappearance?” She stopped, hesitated and said “How...how do you know all of this?"

"Research, I requested your medical records, it's not hard to find out. I have to say you are not like the others I've interviewed.  Now, can I see the rest of them?"

She gave a sigh and sat back in the chair, crossing her arms.  She crossed her legs and stared.  He stared back. "The holes in my feet are the same. Bones, ligaments blood vessels all moved to one side. Muscle missing. And I still have full function of my feet..."

"And your back...your ribs?  May I see them?"  He was getting eager and Addison was getting wary but to be honest, getting undressed in front of a stranger was something she was not unfamiliar with. Though Lucian liked to keep her to himself, he would sometimes invite others to watch and join in.

"Fine, but no touching. Touch me, and I'll break your face."  She stood up, and stepped out of her shoes. She had no idea why she was doing this.  Perhaps she just wanted someone to see them, to know the truth about her life.  So many people had made assumptions; maybe this guy would get the truth out.  She unzipped her dress and let it drop to the floor.  Black lace undergarments were all that were left.  Her back was more wrecked than most people saw.  But Mr. Caringer saw it all.  Where the metal tipped flail had raked across His back, she too had the marks.  Pink lines crisscrossed her skin from her shoulders down to the backs of her thighs.  She didn't feel them for the most part; they did not tighten or bind the skin like normal scars.

She pulled loose hair over her shoulder and looked at him. He had the camera, documenting in digital HD. The clicks and flashes animating her shadow. "Have you seen enough?"

"No. I want to see the spear wound" he walked around her, hands fidgety he kept a bit of a distance. The spear wound; the killing blow to Jesus Christ. The only wound that was constantly painful and never healed. It would scab on occasion; pretend to heal, but always broke open again. Nobody had ever survived that wound. But she had.

He came closer, peered at it with squinted eyes, licked his lips. It opened at she breathed, white rib half exposed. She felt his fingers touch her skin, "I said no touching" He had his face so close, eyes squinted, she could feel his breath and got a feeling this was going to turn sour. She felt his hands on her legs; he grabbed her rear end as he stood up. He licked his lips again nervously,

"You are so --” he didn't get much more out before he felt the heal of her hand smash into his face, breaking his nose in a gush of blood. He staggered backward a few steps, holding his face. "You cunt, you broke my nose!"

She stepped backward, "I told you no touching” she bent down to grab her dress and shoes. She would walk out in her underwear if she had too. Standing she was met with the back of his hand and she hit the floor holding her cheek. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she shouted at him.  He took a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiped his nose, and the blood that had trickled down his chin.

As she tried to get up she felt his hand on the side of her head again, his weight on her hips and his hands around her neck. She struggled; hitting at him as he crushed her windpipe under his fingers. "You're...crazy....he's going to kill you." She was still struggling but her vision was starting to halo in black, eyes rolling as lack of oxygen hit her system.

"He gets my wife for a few hours, I get you. We had a deal. He said you would cooperate." Charles Caringer, with a scowl on his face, let her go as she had started to go limp and reached down to pull off her undergarments