Chapter 35: To the Extent
Rattle, rattle, shake.
"Please…"
A harsh, abrupt yanking sound.
"PLEASE!"
Hunter winced from his position outside the door of Dangler's bedroom, and he silently prayed for a little more internal strength.
"No….NO! I can't DO THIS!"
It broke his heart, hearing her like this.
"I need…! I NEED TO SEE HIM!"
And once again, the rattling of the chains, one end secured to the wall, the other attached to the manacles clamped around her wrists. Madame Vadima' herself had given them to him a while ago, but Hunter had never imagined that he would have to resort to chaining his own lover with them like a wild animal.
Naturally, they were not ordinary manacles, as such commonplace objects would not be able to withstand power such as Dangler's for more than a few seconds. They were enchanted, cursed manacles that limited the wearer's power, suppressed their full potential. Hunter was not certain if they would last infinitely, but at the current moment, it was his best hope.
She only has one more.
Just one.
One last one.
The thought of it alone, the thought of what would then happen to the emaciated witchdoctor frightened him beyond all imaginable extents.
What would be left of her?
Would anything be left of her?
She could not look, not again, never again. The risk was much too high to have any sort of safety or certainty about it at all.
Hunter subconsciously pressed his ear to her bedroom door harder, yearning to be closer to her but terrified and petrified by the noises coming out of her throat, the noises coming out of that room-turned-prison-cell.
There was a thud, muffled by the thick rugs on the ground, as she flung herself to the floor, the sound of her cries lost and absorbed, but still discernable to Hunter's ears.
NO no no no no no no please no no no I HAVE TO SEE HIM.
The brown-haired witchdoctor shook his head in disbelief, for this could not be happening, it was simply utterly impossible.
She's going mad, isn't she.
No. No. Stop that. Of course not.
Listen to her.
She's not crazy. She's going to be just fine.
She's lost her mind.
No, she hasn't.
She's lost her mind, she's gone insane, completely, totally, insane.
"Why did I ever…?"
Mournful, she sounded, tearful, almost. Lamenting her dive into the depths, her plunge into the ravine, her fall into the darkness with no end in sight.
"Why…? Tell me why. Tell me why I did it in the first…place…"
That's a good question, Dangler, Hunter responded, confining his words to his own mind, not daring to speak aloud and alert her of his presence. Why did you? I've wondered too, you know.
He could practically picture her now, sitting pitifully, cross-legged on the floor, the chains connected to her manacles encircling her form while her fingers twitched, knocking the skin of her wrists – raw and red from chafing against the metal – into her restraints.
"I do like pretty things…but I didn't know I liked them…that much…"
Her words were followed by a harsh laugh, making her sound decades older than she actually was.
"To think…to think! I used to be pretty too…I was so pretty…yes…yes, I used to look in the mirror all the time!"
Yes you were, Dangler.
Hunter remembered her still as she was before she had fallen, powerful, like an animal in its prime. What a catch, everyone must have thought, what a lucky man, that Hunter Chamberlain, to win the affections of Dangler, something that most men could only dream of. To this day, he was still bewildered by what she had seen in him at that time. After all, it was only by coincidence that they had been placed into the same training session that day, one session out of hundreds, and he had barely said anything at all.
Nevertheless, he did not question it at the time, for, he had reasoned, if things were going this well, it was dangerous to prod it so.
"I used to look in the mirror and pose…I'd do it all the time!"
Another laugh.
"I was good at it, too…"
That had always been her favorite pastime, striking poses in the mirror, trying different hairstyles with her endless-length, thick black locks, wearing outrageously exuberant outfits – yet somehow making them look decent – and then admiring her work in that six-foot reflective surface mounted on the furthermost wall in her bedroom.
He missed that Dangler. The woman that he had first fallen for, beautifully cruel, wild and controlled at the same time. How would the residents react, he had often thought to himself, if they were to see her now. He had done a remarkable job of keeping her within the manor, hidden from public eyes, up until this point.
"But I saw a pretty thing once…"
Your downfall, in the form of a clockwork marionette by the name of Presidos Decimus.
"And I had to see it again."
One too many times.
"I want to see him again. I miss him. I need him."
And the dread came back, pooling in the pit of his stomach, the dread that had, moments ago, been dispelled by the brief, bittersweet period of reminiscence. He would rather hear anything else, he would rather throw himself in a pit full of barbed, rusty needles, anything to avoid hearing her become – once again – completely consumed by her festering obsession. It pained him to know that she was dependent off of another, for that would only cause her misery, as clearly proven.
You don't need him, Dangler, you are independent of him. Of course it wasn't true, nothing could be farther from the truth, but at this point, it was all that Hunter could do to keep himself from falling into a similar pit that Dangler had.
"Why can't I see him…why, why, why, why?"
Because look at you now. Look where it got you.
"I don't know why…"
Of course you don't.
"I don't know why it's not okay, I don't know why I can't."
It is SO simple, he wanted to scream, and you are the proof. Have you looked into that mirror that you used to love lately?
"I want to."
Have you seen your ribcage, straining against your flesh?
"I have to." The chains rattled as she stood back up, probably beginning to strain against them again. They were long enough to allow her to walk around the room, and yet they still prevented her from reaching to the door. Thank goodness for that, Hunter internally had said, for he would not have been able to bear with it, had she began to claw against the door with her own bloodstained fingernails.
A loud thud and the shattering sound of glass, presumably a vase falling off of one of the nightstands.
"I KNOW YOU'RE THERE!"
Hunter jumped, partially at the sudden increase in the volume of her voice, and partially from the meaning of her words. It could be an accusation of paranoia, yes, but did she actually know of his presence? The possibility that she had known that he had been standing outside her door the entire time, listening to her frantic ramblings, haunted him.
"I know you're there…and I beg you…LET ME SEE HIM!" She roared and tugged against the chains once more, only becoming more frustrated when they, as expected, refused to give way. "You don't understand, no you don't, no you DON'T!"
Half of Hunter had given up the invisibility game by now and accepted the fact that his presence had been discovered. In a way, it was much to his relief, it lifted some of the oppression off of his shoulders.
However, the other half argued that the oppression into silence, the refusal to speak and respond to the chained woman, was all for the better. Human words, coming from any individual, could easily be interpreted to mean dozens of different things, they could be deciphered hundreds of ways, each leading to a different course of action.
She did not need more misunderstanding, not at the current moment, no. The chances of causing her greater agony were far too high, the risk factor was much too large to allow that oppression to vanish completely.
"I HAVE TO! I HAVE TO SEE HIM! YOU HAVE TO LET ME!"
I can't.
"YOU CAN'T TAKE AWAY MY LIFELINE!"
Hunter felt the tears rising to his eyes, those damned drops of weakness, he thought, and struggled to push them down.
Let me be your lifeline, Dangler, and I promise I'll never go away.
How he wished he could be her lifeline, her rock in the storm that threatened to sweep her being, mentally and physically, away. He would be reliable, he would not waste her trust, he would provide the security that she so desperately needed, now more than ever. Had he been her lifeline, she would not have suffered so.
It's my fault, he knew, and had known for what seemed like an eternity, it's all my fault. My weakness got her here.
His weakness so long ago, after Decimus had been taken back by none other than the Armada Commodore Prima Militus herself. So long ago, when Dangler's obsession had first reared its ugly head and taken over her mind, causing her anguish, grief, refusing to leave her alone.
Just like now, he couldn't bear it, it was agony to him as well. And just as any normal man whose heart was taken by another and held their heart in return, he broke.
It was him that had reminded her of the ability that the brand had given her.
It was him that had planted the idea-seed, the knowledge of how she could temporarily drown herself in a miniature world of illusion in order to satisfy the impossible demands of her obsession. He had thought that it would have been satisfied, quelled, once and for all.
How wrong he had been.
If anything, it had only served to strengthen the parasite living in her brain, and within hours, it had come back, twice as eager and twice as demanding for more, and at that point, it had been impossible to refuse her, lest she fall back into her previous state of endless grieving.
She had spent eleven days immersed in never-ending illusion, glassy eyed and unmoving, sometimes reaching out to embrace a figure that was not there.
In time, Hunter had come to realize that this was far, far worse than ever before.
The gradual wasting of her body soon became evident, as well as the unhinging of her mind, her once-firm grasp on reality.
All because of his weakness, his inability and the loss of his actions to help see her through her period of loss. Eventually, she would have come to accept that although her Decimus had been a pretty thing indeed, only Hunter, her lover and partner in practice, would ever be a constant in her life.
And yet she did not, all because he did not. All because of his weakness.
Hunter clenched his fists, the tears having completely dissipated by now. This was another trial of his, it was, and he would refuse to fall, he would absolutely refuse to fail her, his Dangler.
This will all be over soon. She's going to be okay.
"YOU CAN'T TAKE AWAY…MY…LIFELINE!" Hunter further steeled himself, becoming a little more insensitive for her sake, at least for the time being.
"You can't take away…no…not Decimus…! I…LOST HIM!"
There was another slightly muffled thud as she collapsed on the floor, and he could hear her sobbing into her arms, the carpet, something, no longer screaming. It was an action of submission and desperation beyond words, which were no longer sufficient.
Dangler did not cry, and that fact in itself almost pushed the male witchdoctor over the edge. Yet, he still refused to give in. He fought, with every fiber of his being, the instinct to pull the key out of his pocket, to unlock the door, to turn the handle and push it open, to run to the center of the room and take the broken mess of the fallen queen into his arms, where he would assure her that everything would turn out all right.
But he would not show weakness, he would not allow himself to crack. Not again, for if the consequences of his prior 'slip' were these, it terrified him to think of the possible turnouts of this weakness, here, now.
Not this time, he promised.
Just a little check - up on the more - unstable - than - ever couple :)
If you have read/are reading this, please review, even if you are a guest! Every opinion is important and will be greatly appreciated!
Also, it would also be of the greatest help if you were to stop by and check on my sister's (TheSamSam) story, which is also in the Pirate101 archive. She has just started writing, and as we all know, feedback helps writers develop :D
Until the next chapter,
- Severina