::: CHAPTER THIRTEEN :::
Riddick's ignorance of me for the past week, struck me straight in the heart. Contrary to belief, I did have a heart. And just like a vampire's it was useless and served only as a metaphorical weakness where stakes could be flung and holy water poured.
I had reverted back to my room, but being in on the dreadful "secret" Riddick and I had shared made me bolder, and I even ventured out when he was about. He completely ignored me and one day I realized we were still on course for Zemi. That day was an explosion, at least in the marrow of my bones. Intense urges to hurt something surrounded me and like a shadow gave me cool comfort from the searing warmth of sunshine. Too bad there wasn't anything -- like a cat -- to kick around or pinch the furry ears of.
That choking feeling came from knowing that Riddick had fucked me and there was still no pattern of change in his regard of me. To think of him patting his own back at relieving an itch while still getting away with selling another human being just made me sick. No one treated me like that. No one.
I tried talking to him. Something I wasn't good at since I could never gauge what the right reactions should be, just could never conjure up enough empathy to care. But this time my "freedom" hung in the balance and while every inch of me screamed to sit back and not do anything, I brutally pushed past my spiritual sloth and went to look for Riddick.
I found him in the kitchen and knew that he no longer saw me as the scared little Jack on the planet. And no it wasn't because we had sex; he probably actually started to unravel me back when we spent time together at the hotel. I had probably given so many clues to my demented nature, and I never even bothered to explain them. Sloppy me. Thinking back on that time, that seemed centuries away, he just had to have noticed my reluctance to making friends or even talking to other people, my uncanny ability to be by myself for long periods of time, and my angry grimaces directed towards Imam's babbling. I wasn't very careful in masking my conceit for others and the high regard I held for myself. Riddick, however, was sneakily quiet, allowing me security in my strange acts and him enough time to study me.
I sat down casually across from Riddick and picked up an apple, slicing it slowly with a knife I found on the table. This was not the time to develop scruples so when my mouth opened to speak, guess what stumbled out.
"Riddick, don't you think we should be planning the wedding now?"
My little joke inquiry awarded me with a goodhearted chuckle from Riddick, that instantly lightened up the atmosphere. Placing my hands underneath my chin and wriggling my nose, I waited for him to say something too but he just kept reading and typing something on his CompX. I sighed and gingerly placed a slice of apple in my mouth. It seemed there needed to be a lot more coaxing to warrant a response from Riddick.
"There was something I've been wondering about." I decided there was no use in beating around the bush so instead I opted to play dumb.
A sort of slow vibrating noise left Riddick's throat to indicate I could ask my question but its mellow effect rendered me speechless for a few extra seconds.
"I was just wondering about the reason you're going to Zemi." I couldn't bring myself to say "we." "Is it because you're going to sell me?" I asked, wrinkles creasing my forehead.
Riddick's continuous typing slowed for a second before it fully stopped, and he looked up at my probably worried face.
"What do you think is gonna happen once we reach Zemi?"
He said "we" . . . interesting.
"Probably gonna sell me," I said averting my gaze from him.
"Good assumption." He went back to his typing.
My mouth hung open slightly.
"Well, what the hell, Riddick? You're just gonna sell me?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
No response from Riddick.
"What happened to rejoining the human race?" I needed to hit below the belt. "Selling humans into slavery is most definitely not the way to humanity."
"I've thought about it, Jack. And you're not exactly human-happy, are you?"
"What?" I couldn't believe what he just said to me.
"You seem to hate everything about life anyway. So why not sell you and get enough money to get the fuck outta here?"
I stood up, causing my chair to fall over.
"Why? WHY?!" I stared wildly into his impassive face and pointed a finger accusingly at him. "Maybe 'cause you just fucked me . . . maybe 'cause you're supposed to care just a little bit 'bout me . . . or maybe, just maybe 'cause I fuckin' care about you."
My arms flung into the air when my little tirade had absolutely no effect on him. "No, of course not -- Big Evil doesn't give a shit 'bout anyone 'cept himself. So if you can live with sellin' me, then go right the fuck ahead." As I walked away, I slung one last quip his way. " 'Cause I sure as hell don't care as long as I get the fuck away from you, Riddick."
As soon as I was no longer in his sight, I stomped to the bathroom and locked myself in. I couldn't believe I had lost my cool. If there was one thing I had taught myself, it was the art of curbing, containing, and controlling. "Triple Doses of Vitamin C," I liked to call it. I started laughing at my own little outburst -- it had sounded so real and yet all I could think about as it happened was hurting Riddick emotionally. The whole argument was absurd, and it sounded like it came straight from someone else's mouth -- someone who had watched way too much television drama. The fact was that I hadn't even thought about my situation as much as Riddick's disregard for me. Of course what he had said was true -- I was a miserable creature, who probably didn't deserve living among normal people but who the hell was he to make that decision for me? He is no one, I desperately thought.
My laughter soon turned into dry sobs intermingled with giggles because I didn't even know how to cry properly. The dry sobs wracked my tiny body and for an instant I wished Riddick was there to see my pathetic display and sweep me up in a large, comforting hug, telling me everything was all right. Disgusting thought. I pushed it away.
My mind wandered back to the night I had gotten what I wanted -- sex. One would wonder how I had foreseen this as a triumph for myself -- wondered how I could see it as a victory while being beneath Riddick, pinned by him, ruled by him, penetrated by him. Well, that was the whole point . . . . It had been my doing thus my conquest over him. Many would have seen it as him being in control, but I always had command, never doubt that. By arousing such a dominating passion in him, he became a slave to a gift only I could bestow -- submissive femininity to his grunting masculinity. I had made an easy mastery by emphasizing how much power I held in my lips, my kisses, and my willing body. The whole thing was about control, darling. The thought excited me. My mind played over and over again the light of battle in Riddick's eyes when I expected him to hold my wrists together and then how my whimpering insistence won him over, and the light in his eyes faded. Oh, how I loved the disconcerting shadow that had shown in his eyes at my approval and arousal of dominance and aggression from him. Because a disconcerted man is always easier to control, my mind convinced me.
It was true -- his domination over me just handed me more power . . . on a fucking platter no less. In my hands, I held the ability to confuse him just by accepting his pleasure in forcing his superiority on me. And this scared the shit out of him so it was enough for me to stay ahead of the game and be able to manipulate him. I just keep racking up the weaknesses on dear ol' Riddick, I thought gleefully.
As my mind took that journey, satisfying its own dark desire and convincing itself of its supreme power, I was vaguely aware of my fingers pinching the skin of my arm. My thumb and index finger rolled the soft flesh between their grasp and my chest was still heaving with the sobs that didn't seem to want to go away. The pain soothed away the ache that was blocking my arteries and suffocating me from Riddick's flippant opinion of me. Never in my wretched life had I wanted touch and now when I craved for some sort of connection, Riddick denied me. The nicking of my nails didn't yield until my whole arm was covered in tiny purple crescent shaped moons. Pretty, I thought. Then I went to the sink and splashed cold water on them, as if that could, somehow, erase what I had done. As I turned the water off, I immediately sensed Riddick moving away from the door. He was there all along and had heard my piteous sniveling. I wondered what this meant. Did he just earn a point?
Riddick's ignorance of me for the past week, struck me straight in the heart. Contrary to belief, I did have a heart. And just like a vampire's it was useless and served only as a metaphorical weakness where stakes could be flung and holy water poured.
I had reverted back to my room, but being in on the dreadful "secret" Riddick and I had shared made me bolder, and I even ventured out when he was about. He completely ignored me and one day I realized we were still on course for Zemi. That day was an explosion, at least in the marrow of my bones. Intense urges to hurt something surrounded me and like a shadow gave me cool comfort from the searing warmth of sunshine. Too bad there wasn't anything -- like a cat -- to kick around or pinch the furry ears of.
That choking feeling came from knowing that Riddick had fucked me and there was still no pattern of change in his regard of me. To think of him patting his own back at relieving an itch while still getting away with selling another human being just made me sick. No one treated me like that. No one.
I tried talking to him. Something I wasn't good at since I could never gauge what the right reactions should be, just could never conjure up enough empathy to care. But this time my "freedom" hung in the balance and while every inch of me screamed to sit back and not do anything, I brutally pushed past my spiritual sloth and went to look for Riddick.
I found him in the kitchen and knew that he no longer saw me as the scared little Jack on the planet. And no it wasn't because we had sex; he probably actually started to unravel me back when we spent time together at the hotel. I had probably given so many clues to my demented nature, and I never even bothered to explain them. Sloppy me. Thinking back on that time, that seemed centuries away, he just had to have noticed my reluctance to making friends or even talking to other people, my uncanny ability to be by myself for long periods of time, and my angry grimaces directed towards Imam's babbling. I wasn't very careful in masking my conceit for others and the high regard I held for myself. Riddick, however, was sneakily quiet, allowing me security in my strange acts and him enough time to study me.
I sat down casually across from Riddick and picked up an apple, slicing it slowly with a knife I found on the table. This was not the time to develop scruples so when my mouth opened to speak, guess what stumbled out.
"Riddick, don't you think we should be planning the wedding now?"
My little joke inquiry awarded me with a goodhearted chuckle from Riddick, that instantly lightened up the atmosphere. Placing my hands underneath my chin and wriggling my nose, I waited for him to say something too but he just kept reading and typing something on his CompX. I sighed and gingerly placed a slice of apple in my mouth. It seemed there needed to be a lot more coaxing to warrant a response from Riddick.
"There was something I've been wondering about." I decided there was no use in beating around the bush so instead I opted to play dumb.
A sort of slow vibrating noise left Riddick's throat to indicate I could ask my question but its mellow effect rendered me speechless for a few extra seconds.
"I was just wondering about the reason you're going to Zemi." I couldn't bring myself to say "we." "Is it because you're going to sell me?" I asked, wrinkles creasing my forehead.
Riddick's continuous typing slowed for a second before it fully stopped, and he looked up at my probably worried face.
"What do you think is gonna happen once we reach Zemi?"
He said "we" . . . interesting.
"Probably gonna sell me," I said averting my gaze from him.
"Good assumption." He went back to his typing.
My mouth hung open slightly.
"Well, what the hell, Riddick? You're just gonna sell me?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
No response from Riddick.
"What happened to rejoining the human race?" I needed to hit below the belt. "Selling humans into slavery is most definitely not the way to humanity."
"I've thought about it, Jack. And you're not exactly human-happy, are you?"
"What?" I couldn't believe what he just said to me.
"You seem to hate everything about life anyway. So why not sell you and get enough money to get the fuck outta here?"
I stood up, causing my chair to fall over.
"Why? WHY?!" I stared wildly into his impassive face and pointed a finger accusingly at him. "Maybe 'cause you just fucked me . . . maybe 'cause you're supposed to care just a little bit 'bout me . . . or maybe, just maybe 'cause I fuckin' care about you."
My arms flung into the air when my little tirade had absolutely no effect on him. "No, of course not -- Big Evil doesn't give a shit 'bout anyone 'cept himself. So if you can live with sellin' me, then go right the fuck ahead." As I walked away, I slung one last quip his way. " 'Cause I sure as hell don't care as long as I get the fuck away from you, Riddick."
As soon as I was no longer in his sight, I stomped to the bathroom and locked myself in. I couldn't believe I had lost my cool. If there was one thing I had taught myself, it was the art of curbing, containing, and controlling. "Triple Doses of Vitamin C," I liked to call it. I started laughing at my own little outburst -- it had sounded so real and yet all I could think about as it happened was hurting Riddick emotionally. The whole argument was absurd, and it sounded like it came straight from someone else's mouth -- someone who had watched way too much television drama. The fact was that I hadn't even thought about my situation as much as Riddick's disregard for me. Of course what he had said was true -- I was a miserable creature, who probably didn't deserve living among normal people but who the hell was he to make that decision for me? He is no one, I desperately thought.
My laughter soon turned into dry sobs intermingled with giggles because I didn't even know how to cry properly. The dry sobs wracked my tiny body and for an instant I wished Riddick was there to see my pathetic display and sweep me up in a large, comforting hug, telling me everything was all right. Disgusting thought. I pushed it away.
My mind wandered back to the night I had gotten what I wanted -- sex. One would wonder how I had foreseen this as a triumph for myself -- wondered how I could see it as a victory while being beneath Riddick, pinned by him, ruled by him, penetrated by him. Well, that was the whole point . . . . It had been my doing thus my conquest over him. Many would have seen it as him being in control, but I always had command, never doubt that. By arousing such a dominating passion in him, he became a slave to a gift only I could bestow -- submissive femininity to his grunting masculinity. I had made an easy mastery by emphasizing how much power I held in my lips, my kisses, and my willing body. The whole thing was about control, darling. The thought excited me. My mind played over and over again the light of battle in Riddick's eyes when I expected him to hold my wrists together and then how my whimpering insistence won him over, and the light in his eyes faded. Oh, how I loved the disconcerting shadow that had shown in his eyes at my approval and arousal of dominance and aggression from him. Because a disconcerted man is always easier to control, my mind convinced me.
It was true -- his domination over me just handed me more power . . . on a fucking platter no less. In my hands, I held the ability to confuse him just by accepting his pleasure in forcing his superiority on me. And this scared the shit out of him so it was enough for me to stay ahead of the game and be able to manipulate him. I just keep racking up the weaknesses on dear ol' Riddick, I thought gleefully.
As my mind took that journey, satisfying its own dark desire and convincing itself of its supreme power, I was vaguely aware of my fingers pinching the skin of my arm. My thumb and index finger rolled the soft flesh between their grasp and my chest was still heaving with the sobs that didn't seem to want to go away. The pain soothed away the ache that was blocking my arteries and suffocating me from Riddick's flippant opinion of me. Never in my wretched life had I wanted touch and now when I craved for some sort of connection, Riddick denied me. The nicking of my nails didn't yield until my whole arm was covered in tiny purple crescent shaped moons. Pretty, I thought. Then I went to the sink and splashed cold water on them, as if that could, somehow, erase what I had done. As I turned the water off, I immediately sensed Riddick moving away from the door. He was there all along and had heard my piteous sniveling. I wondered what this meant. Did he just earn a point?