Desire becomes Her

Chapter 8

8

Three days after the incident at the club she stood naked in front of a mirror, inspecting the purple bruises on her hips. Irregular dark blobs over bone; they were going to be tender for a while. She smirked a little and gave a sigh. "I got what I wanted though..." she spoke to herself. Her nose turned a little, she could smell sulfur suddenly and turned at the sound of a voice.

"He did that to you?" It was Lucifer and she reached over to grab a robe from a chair nearby. Slipping it over her shoulders, she walked away from him.

"Yes, but I deserved it."

"Mmm. I'm pretty sure I told him not to knock you around anymore" His voice gave her a chill as she walked away, he followed her.

"I assure you, the bruises are not from being knocked around. At least not in the way you think." She huffed a chuckle and continued to walk, maybe if she didn't look at him he would go away. She moved to another room and opened a wardrobe to look at what to wear. Pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of jeans she let the robe slide from her shoulders and to the floor. "What do you want?"

"He said you caused a little trouble for him the other night."

"Such a tattle, always running to the boss-man to tell on me." She rolled her eyes a little and pulled the t-shirt on, followed by the jeans. She felt fingers on the back of her neck, enclose around hair and pull her backward a little.

"I thought I told you to behave yourself." He hissed the words at her and she clenched her jaw, doing her best not to lose her temper.

"He used me as bait to collect a murderer. He was going to f**k me and kill me. I didn't cause trouble; I made it easier on myself." Lucian did not know that she knew what he had planned that night. "Let go of my hair." She had her hands on his wrists, holding on so it didn't pull anymore if she lost her balance. She felt his grip loosen and she pulled herself straight again and turned to face him. "May as well die happy and high rather than scared."

"You weren't in any danger. He knew what he was doing, but your actions compromised that."

"Oh?  I don't care. I'm done being his Trophy." She thought she had come to terms with it, but every now and then she would remind herself what life used to be like and try to take some freedom back.

"You may as well get used to it my Dear, because it's not going to change any time soon. I can make your life hard, or you can have it easy, it is clearly your choice." And with that he turned and disappeared. She was left standing there, angry that she didn't get the last word in.

......

The door to the Pit was wide open, something that just did not happen. Just outside that door a balcony and miles under that balcony the heart of the Pit, glowing red and orange with screams and moans and pleading making its way upward to her ears. She let smoke stream out of her nostrils slowly as she leaned over the edge of the railing, looking down and tapping ash off the end of the cigarette before putting it to her lips again. She had been standing there in silence for a few minutes, waiting. Knowing it would not take much longer. She took another drag before the cigarette was taken from between her lips and flicked off the side. "This door stays shut." She blew smoke at him and grinned a little.

"You told on me?" pulling another one from her pocket she flicked a lighter and lit it just to spite and leaned back over the railing. "You're like a little boy, always telling on the kid down the street because he did something you didn't think was right. I had one when I was little. She was always telling my mother I was up a tree again, or I kicked Thomas, or pushed someone. I was just having a little fun." She looked at him again, cigarette hanging from her lips waiting for him to answer. He took it from her, and again flicked it over the side.

"You should take better care of yourself."

"Why? It's not like I'm going to die of lung cancer. I'm more likely to get killed by a horny serial killer or...maybe choked to death by some book reading rapist." She took in a deep breath, she was fuming. "Does that sound about right to you?"

"Because I don't want to be seen in public with a leather skinned old hag with yellow teeth. No more." He reached for her pockets, her last two obvious in the tight fitting jeans. She batted his hands away as he went to grab her and she turned to fight with him. She felt his hand make contact with her face and she stopped, shocked. But she didn't stop for long and she hauled back and hit him back; so hard that her own hand throbbed. He looked at her, just long enough for her to realize that she had made a mistake and again his hands went for her. She batted him away before he caught both her wrists and jammed his thumbs into the holes, pressing hard on exposed muscle, bone and nerves. She cried out.

"Lucian let go!" She struggled but it only hurt worse; he just pressed harder until she finally stopped. She refused to cry but tears made their way out at the corners of her eyes. "Stop....Stop!" Though the wounds would rarely cause her pain unless they bled, they were extremely sensitive to touch.

"I give you everything you could ever want. I give you clothes, jewelry, I take you out, I give you gifts, I make you come like a Goddamned fire hose and you just keep pushing and pushing and pushing." He spoke coldly, hissing at her through clenched teeth, his face got closer as he spoke, his grip on her arms getting tighter. "What the f**k more do you want?"

She had bit down her lip, drawn blood, eyes squeezed shut as the pain in her arms had traveled through her shoulders and into her chest. She would have passed out if she was a slighter person but she refused to let that happen. "I want to go home, Lucian!  I don’t want this anymore! I don’t want to be forced to do things I don’t want to do any more." There. She said it. All this time she had tried to convince herself she had a better life than she had before him, but she really just wanted to go home, to be left alone. He let her go and she fell to her knees and gagged. The pain she was feeling was so bad she thought she might vomit. She looked up at him; cold and tall.

"You're not going home. So get used to it." He walked away and she let herself sink further to the floor and she lay there as her breathing slowed down. Tears slid down her face, over her nose and to the iron grating of the balcony floor. She was never going to get out of here.