Ch 31

Recap (by Erik) Gabrina has returned! For three days as she went and trotted down to St. Louis. Then had problems with this website. She claims she will update twice today.

Earlier, I gave Julia all hell though I discovered I was very attracted to her. At the end of the chapter, I was suspended with my final question: I requested a kiss from Julia.

"Just once…" I whispered. "And then never again."

The moment I finished speaking, I inhaled a sharp, violent breath as though that would somehow draw the words back inside of me and banish them forever. My eyes closed to my own foolishness. There was nothing I could have done to sound more pathetic than begging her for a kiss.

The last image burned in my mind was the exact thing I wanted so badly: her perfect oval lips slightly parted, moistened by her tongue, opened as they would have been to my mouth had she agreed. But they had opened in horror, in questioning, in repulsion of my blatant and inappropriate request. And she had not said a word.

Her continued silence prompted my eyes to open and I saw that her hand remained extended. The same expression was still branded on her face as well. Riga mortis would have set in had she stayed as she was a moment longer.

"Oh Erik," she said under her breath once I glanced at her.

That was as good of an answer as any. I turned away, wanting to rise from that damned bed and crawl back home if need be.

She sighed and I felt the bed lower as she sat down beside me.

"There's a doctor who lives a few streets away," she said, keeping her voice low and irritatingly pleasant. "His name is Dr. Cordell and he has seen Charles a few times, I believe. We worked together during the war when I volunteered, and I believe that if I ask him, he will allow me a small amount of morphine for your pain. You'll sleep, you'll get your rest at last, and then in the morning, you won't be in such terrible pain."

"That will not stop my pain!" I shouted. I glared at her, chest heaving, nostrils flared. "I don't need for you to sedate me! I didn't ask for you to drug me! Did you even hear my question? I asked you to kiss me. Just tell me yes or no and nothing more."

She sat back, most likely assuming that I was out of my mind and very much in need of being sedated after screaming in her face and demanding such an answer. With more calm than I could imagine, she folded her hands in her lap and licked her lips.

"Erik, please," she started. Her words never finished any farther than that. She shook her head and looked away.

I shuddered at her words and nodded slowly, mourning my loss of her intimacy. My right hand rose to my face, and I covered all that I could of my hideous, repulsive flesh. The violence of my own action resulted in a self-inflicted slap and a rush of pain as my fingers pressed onto the stitches. The tingle turned to fire, and the fire stoked my rage. Through my fingers, I watched as she tilted her head to the side and frowned.

"Don't look at me," I demanded through my teeth.

"That has nothing to do with my answer."

Like a wounded animal, I snarled and hissed and begged her to come after me and administer a lethal blow, something so horrendous I would never recover from for as long as I lived. As I sat there, I could only hope to die soon.

"Then what does?" I asked bitterly. My hand lowered and I pointed at my eye, running my fingers down along my cheek and then back up to my temple. "This does not play a part in your decision, Madame? Don't lie to me! Tell me why you refuse!"

She sighed again and shifted, moving so that her knee was against my leg. I started to reach for her and stopped. I could barely stand it, everything I felt inside: anger, resentment, shame, desire.

"I didn't refuse," she said quietly.

Christine had given me hope and ripped it away. The world had offered little glimmers like shiny pieces of glass to ignorant primates. I had been ensnared by what had seemed a sweet treat, only to have my fist caught in a trap, my insides removed as I was still awake and acutely aware of my punishment.

I would not look at Julia again, I would not find the glint of her hazel eyes to draw me in, the sparkle of her lips damp and waiting.

"Erik, look at me."

Having not an ounce of self control, I did exactly as I swore I would not.

"I will not kiss you," she said slowly.

My terrible face twisted in disbelief. Her method of torture was meticulous, each blow planned to create the desired effect. She had me bound by the wrists and ankles, hot coals settled over my heart and bamboo rods jammed beneath my nails. She had said she hadn't refused me only to draw me into her game and slice me, hack me, chop me into the smallest, most pathetic pieces possible. There was never a moment I wanted to die more than when I looked into her eyes. She had masked her cruelty with excruciatingly beautiful detail. Even through the pain, I wanted to touch her. I would have returned to her on hands and knees if she would have allowed it.

My want for her was no better than my want for Christine. It was worse, if anything.

Everything inside of me began to shut down. My eyes closed, my lips and hands trembled, and a rush of cold replaced the heat of my anger. She had rejected me in a way I had never imagined, in a way so complete that it felt like an earthquake where the shock would resonate for days, months, years, decades longer. This would take a lifetime to grasp.

Her hand touched mine and I glanced up, startled by the contact. The torment continued as she allowed a mere taste, a bone given to a starving dog while the feast is laid out before him.

"I will not kiss you. Not until you give me a reason to kiss you," she said.

"A reason?" I stammered.

Julia sat back and looked at her folded hands. "This last year, the last three days in particular, you have been impossible. You have gone out on your own accord, stirred up trouble, and suffered the consequences of your thoughtless behavior."

The motherly side of her reared its head as I sat beside her, helplessly fascinated by her every word. There was hope that I would kiss her yet, and I very much wanted to touch her lips.

"You are far too accustomed to getting your way. Madeline, Meg, even I have been guilty of keeping you content—or as content as you will allow. You do as you wish without earning a damned thing, taking what you want without giving back. Those days, it seems, have caught up with you at last. If you wish to be shown affection, you must earn the privilege."

"How?" I asked before she had finished her sentence. My hand lowered, my interest piqued in the labyrinth she had designed for my desires.

The slightest of smiles tugged at her lips. "You are not so helpless as that, Erik. You already you know the answer. Once you decide to admit it to yourself, perhaps then you will have what you want."

My anger rose again. "You do this out of pity."

She turned her head to the side and rose from the bed. "For you, I do nothing out of pity. I am not Christine."