I can feel him; the way that he slithers onto my bed, sliding up beside me and stroking my long hair.
"I know that you're awake, Clarissa." I hear him whisper in my ear. I shake with fear and begin to sob quietly. I'm not supposed to let him know that I'm crying. He said that he didn't like to see me sad, even though he's the cause of most of my tears.
"Please- please don't hurt me." I whispered, whimpering when he ran his fingers through my curly, tangled hair and yanked it, pulling my head back to look at him.
"I thought I told you that you're not allowed to cry in front of me!" He yelled, smacking me hard across the face, making me cry out, but since I wasn't allowed to have tears in me eyes, I didn't cry. I knew that if he didn't have that Glasgow smile, he'd be frowning deeply.
"I'm sorry," I whimpered pathetically, scooting away from his form. Jeff just pulled me back against his chest and whispered in my ear viciously,
"You'd better never try and get away from me. You're mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine. Forever. Only mine. I'll kill the both of us if you ever decide to try to leave me." My lower lip quivered and I felt another tear roll down past my nose, earning my already red cheek another slap from my "love".
"Please don't."
"Please don't what?" He taunted me. I knew what I had to say.
"Please don't hurt me." I whispered, preparing myself for the blow that was sure to come.
It never did.
"I would never hurt you more than you can handle. You're afraid of me. Why?" He asked me, his fingers trailing down the front of my silky nightgown that my mother had bought for me as a going away gift when I became a Bachelor of Science.
"I- I- You tried to kill me!" I accused him, rushing to get away from him and yelping when he tangled his fist in my hair and jerked me back to him, causing me to whine out pitifully. He leaned close to me and breathed into my neck,
"I haven't tried to kill you for thirteen days, love. You seem to be unable to let go of the past." He sneered.
"Please stop!" I begged him, scrambling to get away from him, for I didn't want to be around him at that moment. He's sick, twisted, demented. Just like our love. I do love him, I think. No, I know that I love him, but I'm more terrified of him than I am in love with him.
"You aren't allowed to tell me what to do!" He yelled at me, giggling hysterically while pinning me underneath his body. That's when I felt it. It was pressing against my stomach, and even though I've never felt one, I certainly knew what it was.
"NO! Please, just don't!" I cried out, running away from him and getting as far as the door to my bedroom before he grabbed my arm and wrenched me away from my only escape, heaving me on the bed and straddling my waist. For the first time I've ever been terrified because of him, I wasn't afraid because I thought he'd kill me. No, I was afraid that he'd rape me.
He's a male. I'm a female. He probably hasn't had a girl in years. I've confided in him that I've never had sex before. It wasn't that hard to add up.
I could feel his long, leather-like fingers trailing down my nightgown, down to my thighs. I could feel his fingers travelling underneath my clothing and head towards my hips. His nails dug into my waist, making me gasp in pain. It only got worse, although the pain did stop. His hands went to my breasts, touching them, making me shiver. I hated the way I was reacting; I should have never gotten warmer from that touch, or felt a tingling sensation in- down there.
"You aren't exactly struggling, so I'm guessing that you like it." He goaded me. I glared at his grinning self and said,
"No! I would nev-" Jeff cuts my sentence off.
"Don't you dare lie to me, Clarissa!" He threatened me, raising his hand as if he was ready to slap me. I flinched and tried to hide my face from him, and not succeeding when he pulled my chin back up to face him.
"I-I did kind of l-l-like it." I told him, feeling as if I were about to cry. He smiled and began to lift my nightgown up to my hips. "What are you doing? Stop!" I screamed at him, gasping when he slapped me again.
"I told you not to tell me what to do!" He yelled at me, saliva forming at the corners of his remnants of lips. I whimpered when he bit into my neck hard enough to leave a dark mark, yet not rough enough to break the skin.
Slowly, his fingers rubbed along that place in between my legs, but I still had my underwear on, so he wasn't touching me completely. I stared into his eyes, he stared into mine while he coaxed my underwear off. I didn't notice it until I felt the cool air hit my pussy, making me jump, startled. I never believed he would actually go this far.
I could feel myself getting wet, and I knew that he could smell it, because his eyes showed only two things; excitement and lust. With no warning, he took both of my wrists and pinned me to the bed, leaving me unable to move my arms. Jeff kept my arms there with one hand and used to other to continue touching me, and I hated the way I was giving in so easily to him. It was as if I had no dignity left. I should be fighting back. Dammit, girl, why are you not fighting back?!
"Get away from me, you sick fuck!" I shouted at him, knowing that it was fruitless to try to buck him off since he was so much stronger than I was, yet attempted to do so anyways. He plunged a finger inside of me without any sort of signal that he was going to, causing me to moan out loud, tensing up and trying to ignore the lovely feeling of him inside of me. I felt this odd sensation….
Sort of like a big amount of pressure building up, needing to be relieved as he slowly withdrew and merely thrust back into me. I tried my best not to gasp and moan when he went in and out of me. I tried my very best not to cry out in pleasure when he lowered his face down to lick this strange little button-like thing that felt like a million live-wire nerves went off, bursting inside of me and running all around my body, but ultimately, coming right back to that aching part of my body. Jeff called that part that he licked my 'clit'.
He kept touching my clit, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers when he wasn't sucking on it.
I didn't really know what he was doing. All I knew was that one, it felt good. Two, it was too much of a dirty thing for a good girl like me to have done to her, and three, I didn't want him to stop.
The pressure kept getting bigger and bigger until I felt myself completely lose it, I crashed hard, feeling myself clamp down on his finger that he'd put inside of me, not really comprehending what was happening to me, because no one had ever explained it to me.
"Jeff!" I cried out, my body arching as I screamed his name to him. He really seemed to like it, because he nuzzled my neck and began making love bites all over my collarbone and the swells of my breasts. He pulled back and began removing his white hoodie and jeans from his body, as well as his underwear. I think they were boxers.
"So perfect," he muttered, pressing his erection onto me, making me buck my hips instinctively. He quickly plunged into me and stopped while I finally registered the pain that I felt.
"It hurts!" I told him, trying to keep still and forget about the pain. Jeff rubbed my cheek with his hand comfortingly. Almost like a caress. He waited until the pain was hardly there anymore until he began to move. I could feel him inside of me, hitting me deep, and I loved it, even though I hated myself for loving it. I know that I should have never done it, but I couldn't help it; the tension was getting to be too much; I just couldn't take it anymore. It was building up, higher and higher, oh god! I couldn't take anymore of it! I was going to die, but at the moment I didn't give two shits, because it felt so good that if I died, it wouldn't be a terrible way to go.
"Please, faster, faster!" I begged him, clutching his waist with my legs. Jeff obliged, plunging deep inside of me, quicker and quicker, touching me everywhere, sending my nerves on a rage.
I could feel everything that he was doing building up inside of me, higher and higher. Then, it broke, it shattered me, over and over again, killing me, resurrecting me, repeating the process. Jeff bit hard into my neck, drawing a thin stream of blood from my neck.
"You're mine, only mine." He told me, his eyes more crazed than they usually were. "Say it! Say it!" He begged me, thrusting back into me, even when I begged him to stop. I couldn't take that experience again so soon after the last one had just ended. Someone told me that it was called an orgasm or cumming. I couldn't go through another orgasm like that so soon again.
"I- I'm yours. I'm only yours," I sobbed, clutching onto his body as if I were a drowning child and he was the lifeguard here to save me. And in a way, he was. He saved me from myself when I was ready to die, ready to kill myself. He tried to kill me that night, though. Yet, he stopped when I just gave in without any sort of fight of any kind, the knife was positioned over my throat, and I didn't care if he killed me. I even told him to do so.
"Why do you want me to kill you?" He asked me, pulling back the knife that was going to end my life. I stared into his eyes that were alive with excitement, yet dead.
"Because I don't want to live anymore. It's that simple." I told him, not even bothering to move.
"You interest me. What is your name?"
"Clarissa," I answered him. That was my first mistake.
"I'll be back for you." He whispered, opening up my window and leaping out of it.
"Go to sleep, Clarissa."
So here we were, laying beside each other. For the millionth time, I wondered if he loved me. He seemed to, but how on Earth could a mentally unbalanced person love anyone?
How on Earth could I love a serial killer?
How could a serial killer love me?
I'm so fucked up.
I'm crazy, and may I be damned for my stupidity.
I leaned into his chest and stayed there, he was comfortable and although he didn't exactly exert much body heat, I was happy that way. Sometimes, though, I hated the way that he looked at me, with lust in his eyes; it scared me. When I was with a guy friend and he kissed me, that was the night Jeff actually hurt me enough to leave a scar. A very big scar.
That night, he carved, 'Property of Jeff' on my stomach with that damned knife of his, and yet, I still let him back into my house, my room. I still let him do those dirty things to me. Was it out of love or fear, though? Both, perhaps? He said that the next time that I did something sexual with another man or locked him out of the house, he'd make a mark even bigger than the one on my stomach.
He kept true to his word. When Paul came over to help me move some furniture out of the garage, he kissed me for a long time. I knew that Jeff had seen it, so I decided to lock up all of the doors and windows, and I got a new security system so that if he came, I would have something to show the police. The next day, I got a 'special something' in the mail at my doorstep. I opened up the box; it was Paul. Or at least, what was left of him. He'd been gutted, his entrails ripped from him, he also had a horrifying Glasgow smile cut into his face. Attached to him by a small knife, there was a note written in his blood: I warned you, darling. After calling the cops, they took away the body, promising that they'd find whoever did this. No questions were asked.
That night, I tried my best not to go to sleep, but ended up falling into a slumber anyway. I awoke to the feeling of someone stroking my hair; Jeff. I tried not to alert him that I was awake, because I knew that he'd be furious with me for locking him out and for fraternizing with another male. He knew anyway, though.
"I know that you've awoken, Clarissa." His voice was soft, but underneath it, you could slightly hear the anger, no, the rage that he was containing. I jumped up and made a run for it; he was going to kill me. Running away from him was a stupid thing to do; he'd always catch me no matter what. He grabbed me by my messy hair, tangling it further and yanking me back to my bed, throwing my body down onto the mattress.
"I warned you, Clarissa! I warned you!" He yelled at me, giggling like a madman all the while. But then again, he is one anyway. Taking a knife out of his waistband, he tore off my small shirt that I had been sleeping in, exposing not only my scar, but my breasts. I tried to cover myself up, but he grabbed my hands and tied them to the headboard before using his stupid knife to make what felt like a million slash marks on my chest area.
I could feel the blood running down my body, slicking myself with the substance. It made me sick just thinking about it, but combined with the smell and feeling of it all, I just wanted to throw up. Untying me, Jeff pressed his lips to mine, drawing blood and reopening a cut that he'd made the night before.
"Mine, only mine." He whispered in my ear before getting up and leaving through the window. I gingerly got to my feet and slowly made my way to my bathroom, bracing myself for the damage.
When I saw myself, I nearly passed out. Dried blood was smeared from my chest and neck down to my lower abdomen. And it all traced back to the words etched on the skin covering my breastbone; Mine, only mine. I felt a tear run down my cheek. Then another and another and another. Each one fell in sequence as I tried to wash the blood off of me. This was just as bad as what he'd carved on my stomach.
I could never go to work again without my lab coat on, and I'd die of heat exhaustion anyways with that bloody coat on! I'd just have to quit my job; I had enough money, my student loans were paid off, thanks to my mum. The house has been paid off for years since it was my father's house, and my car only has a couple more months of bills.
Doing a mental calculation, I realized that since I had a little over two hundred thousand in my bank account, I would be able to pay off my car, and live comfortably for the rest of my life, although I would want something to keep my mind busy.
Leave it to Jeff to ruin that for me. I had planned to grow up, go to college, get a good degree, get married, have children, grow old, and die.
I guess I should have never counted my chickens before they hatched. I was supposed to get my master's degree. The summer that I was taking off before I went back to college was when I met him. That was when he forced me to quit.
He said that he'd kill my family if I didn't.
After I had promised him that I had quit going for my Master's, he stopped beating me as much as he did. Before, he'd hurt me if I even so much as talked about a broader education. Now that he knew that I would stay with him, he was happier; he even started to kill less people.
I suppose I made him a somewhat better person, even if he's turned me into a shell of what I used to be. I stared at the shower with longing. My new abrasion would give me hell, but I really did need to wash my entire body; I felt dirty, like I could do everything to try to cleanse myself, and it would never work.
"Well, it's not like it would kill me." I told myself, stripping myself of the rest of my clothing and stepping into the shower when it had gotten warm enough to get in. I knew how much the cuts would burn, and burn they did, but it wasn't something that I couldn't handle. I could and would handle anything that bastard threw at me.
Hissing at the sensation that the warm water gave me, I slowly began to wash my hair, rinsing it when I was done and then began conditioning it, leaving it in and gently taking a wash cloth to my body, being extra careful around my lacerations.
Finally, I was done, and I dried off, not bothering to dry my hair, and simply wrapped my self in a towel. When I got back to my room, I saw Jeff lying on my bed with his usual, crazed smile. I blinked back tears; it would do me no good for him to catch me crying.
"I see you've realized what I carved into you, huh?" He said, hideous glee echoing in his voice. I sighed and nodded, laying next to him when he motioned for me to do so. Jeff's arms wrapped around me, but they didn't hurt this time. This time it was more protective than it was painful. I was grateful for this new thing.
"Why did you do it?" I asked him, bracing myself for the slap or punch. It never came. Instead, a hand came down to stroke my face possessively.
"Because you're mine. Only mine, and you obviously forgot about it when you were whoring around with that bastard prick of yours." He said angrily, clutching me to him tighter.
"I wasn't doing anything like that, I swear! It was just a kiss!" I insisted.
"Just a kiss? Just a kiss?! You whore! You fucking whore!" He shrieks, throwing me away from him and making my land on the bed while he crawled on top of me. "You're mine! You're mine, you're mine, YOU ARE MINE!" He screams in my face. I felt tears gather in my eyes, but refused to let them fall; I was stronger than that.
"I'm sorry!" I cried out, throwing my hands up to protect myself from the danger that I knew he possessed. Jeff grabbed my hands and threw them to the side; I could tell that this would be one of the nights in which he would have no mercy on me.
He yanked off my towel and pulled my legs over his shoulders. What the hell was he doing?! Then I felt that strange, tickling feeling down there. It was pleasant, but foreign, I later found out that it was Jeff's tongue doing all of those things to me. Making me feel dirty things that I shouldn't. His tongue swirled around my 'clit' as he called it, and dipped inside of me. I tried my best not to arch my back or show any sign of how much this was affecting me. I failed.
Dragging my nails through his hair, I struggled on whether I should push his face away, or tug him closer. In the end, I decided that I couldn't take it, and as I began to push him away, his hands entrapped mine, leaving me unable to push him away. All that I could feel was pleasure, stacking up higher and higher and higher. Oh, god, I can't take it any more!
With a scream, I allowed myself to release; I could feel these strange liquids flowing out of me, and Jeff seemed to really like it, as he lapped them up as if it were the elixir of youth. Using his hands to drag me even closer by my hips, he quite literally buried his face into me. I loved it. I hated it. I couldn't take any more of it. I screamed, and cried. I begged him to stop, yet keep going. This man had ruined me, ruined me forever. I had become his forever whore. Only his, only belonging to him. And I fucking loved it. I loved that I belonged to him, I loved how it was so dirtily forbidden to be seen with another guy. I bore his mark, yet I didn't mind all too much, except for the pain.
He crawled up to me, kissing my neck, murmuring that I was his, and I belonged to no one but him. In a way, it scared me, but I knew that what he said was true. There was truly no escape for me.
"Jeff?" I asked him cautiously. I never knew when he might explode. I heard a grunt in response. "How come you chose me? I mean, why not someone prettier or less innocent?" I trailed off when he raised his face from my neck to glare at me.
"Really? You're really going to ask me that? I thought that you were a hell of a lot smarter than that. Well, since you don't know just how beautiful you are, let me just assure you that I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. You're lovely, and even though you're more innocent than the average ten year-old, I find it… appealing, almost. I like how you're so pure, untouched, and virtuous. I'm just… I'm just tainted and corrupted. I honestly don't know why you always let me back in, no matter the terrible things I did to you." I stared into his eyes and saw the truth shining in them. I smiled and nestled closer to him, burying my face in his chest.
"Jeff, do you… do you care for me?" I ended up saying. I was too afraid to say the L word, because I had no clue how he'd react. Jeff's smile somehow became more… soft, almost.
"I do, Clarissa. I don't know how, but I do. You are the one good thing that I still have in my life." I hid my face in his neck. His pale, lovely neck. I didn't know why, but for some reason, he had a certain sex appeal to me. I know that most would laugh at me for thinking that, but he really was beautiful in a weird way. I enjoyed his company, too. He made my heart pound and my nerves catch fire. He knew how to push my buttons and irritate me to death, but I was his, and he was mine.
"Shh, go to sleep, Clarissa. Go to sleep, and I shall stay with you." I kissed him, loving the way he was so nervous when he didn't initiate the kiss and I did. I couldn't fall asleep, and because I couldn't, he didn't. I was freezing, since I had no clothes on and it was mid-winter, so I crawled underneath Jeff's white hoodie that had been washed of blood too much, wrapped my arms around his slender frame, and intertwined my legs and feet with his.
I felt comfortable that way, and he must've too, for he wrapped his arms around me, pulled the covers over the both of us, and watched until I went to sleep before he did. I loved him.
When I woke up, I was still in his arms. It was a shock to me, because I had grown accustomed to waking up to an empty bed. Now that he was laying beside me, I knew what it was like having someone to wake up to. It felt… nice. I stared into his eyes that were still open, and it made me realize that he must've had so much torment trying to go to sleep, without any eyelids to help him. He could never blink, so his eyes would dry out, which explained how bloodshot the whites of his eyes always were.
Slowly, consciousness began to creep back into his eyes and he was actually looking at me.
"I told you I would stay." He told me, bringing me closer to him and biting my earlobe. I didn't like the way it made me feel. It made me feel a weird tingle of excitement and a twinge of fear. I suppose I just wasn't used to not having him hurting me.
"I know you did, it's just, I'm not used to having anyone who'd actually stay with me." I blushed and lowered my gaze. It probably wasn't a very big surprise, but I wasn't exactly a popular person. I was a total outcast in high school and I didn't have many friends in college, only a few guys that I enjoyed hanging with. Now that I had Jeff, I felt more happy and carefree, kind of. I guess our "love" didn't exactly start out the way we are now. It actually started out with his infatuation with me, and my fear of him.
Then it became him stalking me every single day, following me when I'd get into my car after college, and sometimes hitching a ride with me. He knew what would keep me from reporting him, and he did everything to ensure that I wouldn't tell anyone; I loved my family too much, and if I told anyone, well Jeff would get away with it, and my family would suffer the consequences.
Sometimes I would wish that he would leave me alone, and then he would be silent for a few days, leaving me time to myself. Then I would start to actually miss him. It was strange and annoying the things that he could make me feel. I needed him, yet I couldn't stand him. He was already training me to be his, and only his. I somehow found that I didn't care.
One time, I was washing the dishes after I had eaten, and I guess I must have had the water going pretty loudly, because I had no idea that he was behind me until he wrapped his arms around my waist, making me squeal and slam my head into his chest.
"Ow…" I whined, sighing when he pressed his lips against my throat. I hated him for the way he could touch me without any sort of acquiescent from me. Then, his fingers started trailing down, and I began to panic. "Get off of me!" I shrieked, trying my best to get away from him. He was stronger than I was, so it didn't work out very well. He held me in place, but there was a silver lining; he did stop touching me that way and didn't do it any longer until that night.
In a way, I'm almost satisfied that I belong to him. I actually belong to somebody, and it makes me feel… loved, in a sick, twisted way.
Sure, we fight a lot, but he's stopped hurting me. The last time he did was the night he carved Mine, only mine into my chest, and though I was still royally pissed and a bit scared of him, I was happy that I had found someone that seemed to actually love me as much as I loved them.
We could never get married, that much was obvious, but I was perfectly happy just having him around my house, since I couldn't go out of the house much, and he obviously couldn't. I actually put on a coat and bought him a few shirts, a pair of shoes, a new hoodie and a couple pairs of pants that way he wouldn't have to stay in the same clothing every single day. I don't think anyone has ever given him a gift before, because when I presented what I got him, he was happier than I had ever seen him. It was almost an insane happiness, but it was happiness any way.
I don't think I'll ever have a child. Mainly because Jeff and I are too fucked up emotionally to deal with small people running around our house and making noise, but if I feel good on it, I just may adopt a little girl. I think I would name her Hermione, from a Winter's Tale written by Shakespeare.
Jeff was all for it, too. Perhaps we had a chance at becoming a real family together. All I know is three things. One, I am his, and only his. Two, I love him and he loves me. And three, even though I'm still cautious around him when he's angry, I couldn't have asked for someone as… interesting as he is. He's one of the best things in my life.
We decided on not getting a child. Neither one of us could handle it, and we knew it, so we just figured that it'd be better to stay the way we were.
Of course, we'd have to watch out for pregnancies when we had sex, but it wasn't that hard to keep up with a container of pills.
I loved the way that he'd watch me when he thought that I wouldn't notice, or when he'd tell me he loved me when he thought I was asleep. Perhaps all of this angst was meant to happen that way I could be with him? Well, I'd never know, but, to be honest, I don't really care any more. He's mine. And I'm his. Forever.