Mistake
by Medianoche
(aka The Lady Elizabeth)

Oh, God.

No matter what I do, it just never stops. I can never get away from him, can I? No matter where I go, what I do, he's always two steps behind me, waiting for me to mess up. Waiting for me to falter, to fall behind the others. He's like the lion waiting for the weak gazelle to stumble and reveal herself. Once I do, he's going to come crashing through the brush and conquer his terrified, wounded prey.

I can't do that, though. I can't let him see me weak and frightened, like I was so many other times. He wants to see me weak, stumbling, crawling. I don't know whether it's the pain in me that he likes to see or the image of himself reflected in the eyes of so many others as he scoops me effortlessly into his arms and whisks me away.

I'm done with that! I'm done with whimpering in the night and feeling his strong body press around me. I'm done with looking up into his eyes, fear radiating off of every inch of me, knowing that he has complete power over me.

At least, I think I'm done. God.

He wants to hear that he was right all along. That I should've listened to what he told me about you. How bad and how horrible you were. How your way of life was pathetic and worthless and how I should turn my head, walk away, and pretend to have never known you.

I couldn't do that, though. I guess that's where I failed him. I guess that's when he realized that I would never be able to put you in my past. He could sense in me that you were not only my past, but my present and future as well. You were carved into me like a love heart on a tree and nothing short of death would be able to keep me from loving you. Somehow, too, I don't think that even death would be able to conquer this.

That made him mad. Angrier than I had ever seen him and, God, it scared me. He'd lash out at me with his words, cutting in deep, deliberately trying to leave ugly scars that would make me lame and weak again. He knew that all he needed to do was pick and prod at the flimsy armor that I had set up around myself before it folded in on itself and I was vulnerable. And even though he claimed to love me, he sliced away mercilessly, out of control in his rage.

When I couldn't fight him off any more, when his words made me flinch and whimper, he hit me. At first, it was light, almost gentle and loving. It was as though he wanted to urge me softly in the right direction. Gradually, though, he hit harder, the ever-gnawing fear that I would turn and leave him always present. Sometimes, he left his claws out when he swung and didn't even flinch when I would scream at the ripping pain of my flesh.

"Don't you know any better, Demeter?" he asked one day while we were resting lazily in his bed. "The moment you run back to him, you'll never be able to leave him. He'll reduce you to a weak, pathetic shadow of yourself and you'll never find the strength to leave again."

I tried to blink away the tears that threatened to roll down my cheeks. He loved those tears, the fat, miserable ones. I think he found pleasure in wiping them gently from my cheeks before they could roll down my neck and onto my chest.

"You don't understand," I tried to tell him gently. "He needs me."

"He needs you?" He hit me then. It didn't really hurt so much as it frightened me. I leapt from the bed and cowered in the corner of our tiny den. "What about me? What if I needed you?"

I shook my head. It was always like this. Whenever I told him that I had to see you, had to be near you, he'd always go off like this. He didn't understand us. He didn't want to understand us. For him, any hint of understanding was like a failure. It was a defeat and he had never lost anything before in his life.

"You don't, though," I said calmly. I tried to soften my face into a sympathetic understanding. "You can have any queen you want. You don't need me."

He growled and was off the bed, pushing me back so that I was pressed against the wall. "Don't tell me what I do and do not need. I forbid you to leave."

I shook my head. So stupid. So stupid.

"I love him." His claws dug into my shoulders.

"You love me," he growled deeply.

I whimpered when his paws flew to my waist, leaving bloody welts at my shoulders. I was so much smaller than he was and it wasn't any effort for him to lift me off my feet. He pressed his chest hard against mine and used his paws to spread my legs then force them around his waist. I could only blink up at him when one paw returned to my hip and the other clasped hard onto my thigh.

His entrance into my body was swift and painful. I cried out in anguish with every thrust, feeling myself break and tear at his cruel, strong paws and body. My forehead rested on his shoulder as he continued for what felt like days before he stiffened and sagged, pressing me, once more, hard into the wall. His breathing was ragged and harsh and I closed my eyes in resignation. He finally cupped my chin in his hands and forced me to look up into his handsome face.

"Say you love me," he said, pleading. I could sense the desperate love in his voice and shuddered. I nodded and forced a smile.

He left me alone then to tend to my wounds and broken heart. We had coupled before, but he had never forced himself on me. I hadn't thought it possible, but now, trying to stem the blood flowing from between my legs, I knew that he was capable of anything, just so long as he could keep me to himself.

It wouldn't be very hard to get away, I think. I could leave by nightfall. Those who love me would turn the other cheek and pretend not to see me flee this place. Of course, it's what would happen once I find you that I worry about.

He will come looking for me, I know. He'll want me back. He'll tell you to return me to him and I know you'll do everything in your power to keep me safe. Only, it won't be enough.

You see, he's strong. He has the power of the entire Jellicle tribe to back him. And, they will, too. They will fight for him because this is how they see the situation: a helpless, weak queen whom their future leader is madly in love with held captive by their enemy.

Only the three of us know better. Or, rather, only you and I know better, my darling.

Heavyside, Macavity, I knew I should've never left your side. I knew, deep down, it was wrong to venture to the junkyard.

And now…

And now it seems like this nightmare will never end.

Mistake is one of the most recent CATS fanfiction story that I have written. It was first written in October 2003 and was published onto my CATS website (which is still up and updated, time permitting) on October 19, 2003. Mistake has been revised and reedited since it's first publication, but it is still very close to the original story.