"Darling, we were having a good day. You had to spoil it, though, didn't you? You've been naughty, darling, and you're going to pay now," he says, grabbing my wrists and yanking me forward. I twist myself around and try to get free, but I know I'll never successfully get my hands away unless he wants me to. He presses his lips against mine and the tears start flowing down my face, pale from not seeing the sun in half a year. He twists my right wrist in a way that makes me gasp in pain. Fortunately, I can tell it's not a break, only a sprain, seeing as I've sprained my wrist several times before, but never as badly as this one. He pulls his head away and starts laughing hysterically. The laughter is supposed to unnerve me, but it's better than the silences that are like the calm before the storm. He starts jerking my wrist around, and I scream out in pain.
"Boss, I think that's enough now. You need to stop, Jim," Seb says from the driver's seat. Jim abruptly stops laughing and stares at the back of Seb's head.
"Sebastian, remember that little talk we had about me doing what I want and you just shutting up and looking pretty? Besides, I don't even know why you care. You're used to seeing me torture people."
"Yes, I am, but I'm telling you that you need to stop now. You're going overboard. She probably has a minor concussion from falling down the steps, she's already scared to death of you, and, from what I remember, you told me that there was more after this. You're turning her life into a living hell, Jim, and I'm not just going to sit back and let you. You've terrified her, and now you're hurting her. I'm telling you to stop doing that to her wrist before you break it. Now knock it the fuck off, Jim, because I cannot stand to hear her in pain."
"Fine, Sebastian, but only because you asked so nicely." He drops my hand into my lap and I sigh in relief. He picks up my left wrist and turns my arm so the inside of my forearm is facing him. He pulls a knife, the same one from that first night, out of his pocket. I whimper softly. He puts the knife down for a second and reaches up to stroke my cheek.
"Hush, now, darling, this will only hurt for a little while. It's just like getting a tattoo. Come on, don't cry, darling, I know you can be strong, can't you? Can you be strong for me and not cry," he whispers gently as I stare up at him with tears still falling down my cheeks. He brushes them away.
"Please don't do this. I'm sorry. Please don't, Jim, please," I whisper back, my voice sounding so desperate and weak I don't even recognize it.
"I have to, darling, I'm sorry. You were bad and I can't let you walk away thinking it's okay to do whatever you want. You have to learn a lesson, Adalia, and since Seb told me I am not allowed to do a certain thing to you under any circumstances, I have to do this. I still love you, though, darling." He picks the knife up again and digs it into my skin. I grit my teeth, determined not to cry or scream. He keeps this up for a few minutes, and I'm able to keep my mouth shut, but a tear slips down my cheek and lands on my arm, right on the worst of the cuts. I let a little hiss escape my mouth as I keep the steady stream of curse words in my head. It only takes him a few moments to finish. I put my arm at my side, not wanting to read it, but Jim just pouts at me.
"Darling, I put a lot of work into that. Won't you at least look at it?" His tone tells me not to argue, so I glance at my bloody arm, which now says 'JIM'S DARLING' in big red letters.
"There's so much blood, Jim. Is there supposed to be that much blood?"
"Don't worry, darling, I'm not going to let you die from blood loss. It's not enough to kill you, you won't pass out, you won't have any long-term damage. The most that will happen is you get a little bit dizzy, but you won't even be able to tell because of your concussion."
"It's all over me. There's blood all over my arm and now my hand and I want it off, Jim, I want to get the blood off. It's so nasty. It's warm, Jim, and gooey. I have my own blood all over me, Jim, get it off, please just get it off, Jim, please just get it off, I don't know how you can stand getting blood all over you, please make it stop bleeding all ready, it's awful, I want it off, please help me get it off-" I whisper, shaking my head back and forth as I stare down at my bloody hands and arm. I know I'm not making a lot of sense right now, but I can't think clearly. All I can focus on is the blood and how much of it is all over me and how awful it feels. Maybe this is what it's like to have a mental breakdown.
"Adalia, stop it. You're not making sense," Jim says with worry etched on his face. I continue rambling on.
"There's so much. Oh my god, it's so much. It's so red. It's sort of pretty, Jim, don't you think? In a bad way, though. Like how pretty my house looked when you blew it up. Those flames were so pretty. They made me sad, though. This makes me sad, Jim, because it hurts. It hurts really bad, but the blood is so pretty. Is this why you killed all those people? So you could see their pretty blood come out? Carl didn't bleed though, did he? Little Carl Powers died and it was useless, because he didn't even bleed, so he was ugly when he died, because his pretty red blood didn't come out."
"Jim, you broke her! You broke her, Jim! You've never done this to anyone before, Jim, you just killed them after you tortured them. You killed them and they stopped hurting, but you tortured her for six months and never showed any signs of stopping, and it became too much for her, and now she's broken. God, you torture people for one week at the most usually. This is what happens. And it happened to an innocent thirteen year old girl," Seb shouts from the front seat, and I can't say anything. The blood is so fascinating to me, it's so pretty, and I keep dipping my fingers in it and looking at the color.
Jim just stares at me in horror. I look up at him and reach forward, painting a little smiley face on his cheek.
"See, I gave you a smiley face because you're so mad at me all the time, and I thought you forgot what a smile looked like, so you can have that to look at the next time you forget," I explain like I'm talking to a small child. I giggle and lean in closer to him. "Plus, I thought that having blood on your face would make you look more intimidating for your clients." Then I scream out as a new wave of pain surges through my arm. Jim brings me closer to him and puts my head on his chest like he did this morning. He rubs circles on my back and I sob while trying to calm down. I move my head away from him and meet his eyes.
"It hurts so bad, Jim," I say, pain clear in my voice and probably my eyes, too. "You lied to me."
"What do you mean, darling?"
"You said it would only hurt for a little while. But it hurts so bad, Jim."
"It's going to be okay soon, we'll get your arm bandaged up-"
"I'm not talking about my fucking arm! Everything, it hurts! Losing my parents, losing my life, losing my happiness, losing everything I love, getting taken by you so I can play some role in your sick fantasy where you have a pet human, all of the words you say to me, my arm, losing my sister." His face turns to a confused one at this part.
"Bet you didn't know I had a sister, did you? She was my younger sister, and she looked up to me, and she was supposed to be at school that day, with me, but she pretended to be sick. And I helped her with it. I helped her pretend to be sick, and so I helped her die. Do you know awful I feel about that, Jim? But I've had to pretend to be okay for the past six months so I don't get my brains blown out. And so everything, it hurts. And I have a request for you. Or Seb, whoever cares more about me."
"What is it, darling?"
"Kill me. Just shoot me right through the head. Because I don't want to live anymore if it means I have to live with you, the murderer of my family, and the guilt of knowing that I was partly responsible for my sister dying."
"I'm not going to kill you, and neither is Seb. We're going to go home, and you're going to sleep, and you'll be all better in the morning. And we're going to call the doctor, too." I cross my arms and pout.
"Fine. But I want to watch Doctor Who when I wake up."
"No way."
"Jim, let her watch it for fuck's sake. You just heard her tell you how she lost everyone and everything because of you, and she doesn't even want to live anymore. Let her watch fucking Doctor Who."
"Alright." I lay my head back down on his chest, trying to have a coherent thought.
"I have one more request."
"If it involves me killing you or letting you go, the answer is no."
"No, it's not that. Will you watch Doctor Who with me? It's better when you don't watch it alone." Not true at all. I just know he'll hate it, and I want him to suffer through something he doesn't like the same way he's made me suffer through things I don't like for six months.
"If it will make you better, I will suffer through that ridiculous show with you and Sebby."
Sorry it's been a while since I updated! I think you guys might possibly get two chapters tonight for being extremely patient with my ridiculous procrastination.
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