Tourniquet
Chapter 6
Pleasure. Absolute bliss. That's all I felt for that brief moment in time, that moment I had Franziska von Karma. For just those few minutes, she was mine; she belonged to me alone, and nothing in my life had ever given me so much elation. I realized that I had never wanted anything as much as I had wanted her, and now I had her.
Even after we had finished, I was reluctant to release her. I held her small body close to me, my lips pressed against the side of her neck. She elicited a soft moan as I felt her shudder against me. "Is this what you needed?" she whispered, turning her head to look up at me.
"Yes," I whispered back, leaning over to take another taste of her lips. I never wanted this moment to end, but the bustle had started out in the hallway, alerting us to the presence of others. Surely, someone would notice something was wrong.
"I should go," she said, seeming almost as disappointed as I was. She slowly slid out from under me and stood up, picking up her clothes and beginning to garb herself. I lay there watching her, having never fully appreciated how beautiful she really is. She was no longer the little girl I grew up with; she had become a woman, and the feelings that had once seemed so wrong suddenly seemed so perfect.
When she was nearly finished, I too stood and pulled my suit back on, not even concerned that it looked even more of a mess than it had that morning. Franziska stood there waiting for me silently until I straightened up and approached her again.
"Do you understand now?" I asked, pushing her soft hair behind her ears and resting my hands on either side of her face.
"Not entirely," she replied, looking up at me. "But… I'll figure the rest out soon." She leaned forward and lifted her head so that we shared one more kiss before she turned to leave the room.
When she reached for the knob, her hand fell upon her whip and she withdrew it as if she had touched something scalding hot. She simply stared at the object, and I suddenly felt like I knew what she was thinking.
"What's wrong?" I asked, now standing beside my desk.
She hesitated for quite a while before answering. "I… N-nothing." She reached out again and took the whip in her hand, quickly leaving the room. She didn't turn in the direction that would have taken her to her office, however; it seemed as if she was heading toward the other end of the hall, meaning she was probably leaving. I sighed and laughed at the same time, turning to walk behind my desk and sit down.
Who knew? The advice of a nine-year-old child was all I had really needed.
It was dark outside by the time Franziska finally lifted her head from her tear-soaked pillow to check the time. It was a few minutes after ten o'clock at night, and she knew sleep was going to be nearly impossible to attain. She just couldn't stop crying, no matter how hard she tried.
No, she didn't understand at all; she had blatantly lied to him. There were so many questions she desperately racked her brain to answer, but it was futile. These were the types of questions that could not be found in a book or simply analyzed logically; these were the types of questions that required much more than that.
Why had she done it? How had Miles managed to completely control her by just the single act of taking hold of her whip? Why didn't she hate him for it? It was as if that whip held her spirit within it, as if it held her courage, her strength, and all that made her Franziska von Karma.
Suddenly, she gasped, sitting bolt upright. That whip… it had once been her father's. Could that really be it? Perhaps that cold piece of leather was the symbol of her heritage. Perhaps all that she was expected to be, all that she thought she wanted to be, was contained within it.
Then arose another question. "Who… am I?" she whispered to herself, her face as pale as death as she stared straight ahead. If she had completely lost herself when that whip had left her possession, then she was not who she thought herself to be. It was just a disguise, a curtain, hiding her from the rest of the world, and even from herself.
She once more broke into violent sobs, covering her face with her hands. So, that weak girl who had entirely submitted herself to Miles Edgeworth… that was really her? That was really who she was? It was a devastating realization. "That means… everything that Father always said… is true…" She couldn't bear the thought of it, and what bothered her most was the possibility that Miles had known it all along.
This brought her back to another of her many questions. Why had he done it? Had it been love, or was it only lust? Had he really just used her? According to all that she had ever heard about men, he really felt nothing for her at all. Also, if he had known who she really was all this time, it would have been all the easier for him to trap her. He would have known that all he had to do was take away her fire, and then she would not be able to fight his advances. She recalled the couple hours before it had happened, the way he had been looking at her, the way he had spoken to her. So… It hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment thing. He had been planning this 'rape' all day.
But then… what if he really did care? What if his feelings for her had existed all this time, and she had been too caught up in her own affairs to even notice? She had never once in her life known what love felt like or what it was to feel loved, so how could she judge whether or not this particular incident was love? And, did she feel the same way? Once more, she didn't know what it was to love somebody, so she was clueless as to if what she was feeling was that emotion. It was all so confusing, and by now she had a pounding headache.
After a few more hours of this, she finally cried herself to sleep, exhausted from the whole ordeal. Her dreams finally took her away from her chaotic reality, until their subject became her chaotic past.
Nineteen-year-old Miles Edgeworth sat alone in the enormous library of the von Karma Manor, reading silently from a red, leather-bound book. The book was a few inches thick with a title written in fancy gold lettering. Both the title and the tiny print upon the pages were written in German, but he seemed to read them with ease. He wore black dress pants, a dark blue colored shirt, and a black lamb's leather jacket, contrasting vividly with the beige cushions he sat upon.
Light footsteps soon invaded the silence, and Miles glanced up to see a twelve-year-old Franziska von Karma coming down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she looked around for only a moment before spotting Miles. "Good morning, Little Brother," she greeted him, walking over to where he sat.
"Morning, Big Sis," he said while looking back at his book. When she approached him, he scooted back on the padded bench and spread his knees so that she could sit between them, for she was much smaller than he was. She leaned back against him and began to read from the same book.
They sat like this for what must have been two or three hours until Franziska's head lulled onto Miles's arm as she fell asleep. He peered down at her curiously, observing dark circles beneath her eyes. 'She must have been up all night studying,' he concluded, knowing how badly she wanted to leave this place. He too had started making arrangements for his departure; he had been planning to start his career as a prosecutor back in the United States, whereas she would most likely stay in Germany.
He dared not show it, but he had always pitied this girl. He himself had been the victim of Manfred von Karma's anger a fair number of times, but never to the extent that she had suffered it. He could see a few of the bruises that had been left on her face and arms from his most recent attack against her. He really didn't understand how someone could hate their own child so much, but he never dared to question it.
Then, as he sat there watching her sleep, something came over him. She seemed so much more peaceful while she slept, more… precious. Without even considering the consequences of this sudden impulse, he bent his head low and placed his lips upon her slender neck, kissing it tenderly. As he did this, he felt her grip on his sleeve tighten and her eyes fluttered open.
"W-what are you doing?" she asked groggily as he slowly lifted his head again, peering down at her. "What was that?" Strangely enough, she didn't sound angry at all like he had expected she would be. To the contrary, she sounded sincerely confused.
"What do you mean?" he asked, rather confused himself.
She kept staring up at him, her eyes only half open. "What was that you were just doing?"
He couldn't stop himself from gaping at her. "That was…" If he told her, would she then know? He couldn't believe she really didn't. "That was… a kiss."
"A… kiss?" She looked away from him for a moment, then looked back. "What's that mean?"
There was no way! How could she not know what a kiss was? "You… really don't know what a kiss is?"
She shook her head. "No. Why would I?" She was giving him an indignant look, for it seemed he thought she was stupid. "No one's ever done that to me before."
"But…" This was mind-boggling. "…Haven't you seen people kiss on television?" It wasn't quite as surprising that she had never been kissed before; he was really the only person who gave a damn about her, but for her to not even know what a kiss really was… It seemed impossible.
Again, she shook her head. "You know I only watch television programs if they have to do with the law or politics, and people don't… kiss each other on those. Television has no other uses. Only unintelligent fools watch all the other foolish programs."
"I… suppose that makes sense…" So, she really had no idea. His thoughts were racing as he tried to figure out what exactly he was supposed to say in this situation.
"So," she said, glaring at him. "Are you going to explain to me what you were doing putting your mouth on me?"
He made a strange face upon hearing this. The way she said it made it sound kind of disgusting. "Well, a kiss… A kiss is something that two people who… are close will share." He paused, seeing the look that she was giving him. "I mean… Like, a brother and sister, for example."
"Oh." She seemed to become less angry. "So, who else would share a… kiss?"
"Well… parents usually kiss their children, and people who are in love…"
Now, she looked confused. "Father has never kissed me."
'Oh damn,' he thought to himself. "Um… well… Not all-"
"You don't have to lie to me, Little Brother," she said, lowering her head sadly. "I think I understand why."
Miles sighed, wiping sweat from his forehead with the arm that Franziska was not leaning against. "Look, Franziska-"
"And what the hell is this all about?"
Both of them visibly jumped as that deep, menacing voice echoed throughout the entire high-ceilinged room. Manfred von Karma stepped into their view, his left hand resting upon his cane. He looked livid, and Miles wondered nervously how long he had been listening to them.
"What exactly brought up that ridiculous conversation?"
"F-Father…" Franziska's face was deathly pale as she tried to explain the situation, though she knew there would be no getting out of this one regardless of what she said.
"Miles!"
"Yes, sir?" He was determined to keep his composure, though this predicament was a bit frightening.
"What do you think you're doing with her?!" He was referring to the way they were sitting together, and Miles realized what it must look like.
"We were reading, Sir," he responded flatly, indicating the book that still lay open in Franziska's lap.
"Is that so?" He strode forward, now standing only a few feet away from them. "It looked more like she was sleeping to me!"
"Father, I… I'm sorry. I just-"
"Don't give me excuses, you little wretch!" He lifted his cane threateningly and Franziska cowered against Miles.
"I'm sorry, Father! Please…"
"You're worthless! How can you ever hope to achieve perfection as a prosecutor if you can't even stay awake while studying!? How many times do I have to do this, Franziska!?"
"No! Please!" The child threw up her arms to protect her head and face, preparing for the first shot of another savage beating.
…But it didn't come.
Confused, the girl uncovered her face and turned her head to look in her father's direction. However, the first thing she saw was the black sleeve of Miles's jacket. She could also see her father's face, which bore an expression of utter disbelief. Next, she noticed that the arm she had been leaning against was now wrapped tightly around her small body as Miles held her against him.
Still lost, she took another look. Her father was holding the top part of his cane with both hands as he always did when swinging it at somebody. However, he was not the only one holding that weapon.
Miles had his hand wrapped tightly around the bottom of the cane, obviously having stopped it from finding its way to Franziska. The young girl gaped at this sight in amazement, unable to believe what she was seeing. Then, that amazement turned immediately to horror as she saw her father's face redden with the purest rage.
"You." he snarled viciously, his teeth bared. "You!" he then bellowed. "How dare you, you little son of a bitch!"
There was no stopping it this time. A sickening 'thud' sounded as the finely polished wood connected with the side of the young man's head, unseating him abruptly. Both Miles and Franziska were sent to the floor, the girl still held protectively against him.
Though brightly colored stars had exploded before his eyes, Miles managed to push himself up off the ground and support himself on his hands and knees, positioning himself over Franziska, who now lay curled up beneath him. There was a 'swish' and another sickening 'thud', and Miles gritted his teeth and closed his eyes feeling as if his spine would split in half.
"I will show you what happens when you defy me, Boy!" Manfred von Karma continued to swing his cane, beating Miles mercilessly on the back, neck, and head. At first, the young man was able to keep himself from screaming, allowing at most small grunts and gasps of pain to escape him. Soon, however, he could not stop himself from crying out with each blow, the pain being far worse than anything he had ever suffered. It was also about this time when blood began to drip from his open mouth, and he choked on it each time he managed to breathe in, which was a near impossible task in itself.
Still, no matter how many times that man struck him, no matter how much pain he was in, and no matter how much blood pooled before him, Miles never moved from that position. He remained sturdy, shielding Franziska from any harm.
It felt like ages to him before the beating finally stopped and he heard von Karma's angry breathing above him. "Never, EVER-" One more crack, followed by an agonized scream. "-cross me again! Do you hear me, Boy!? After all I've given you, you have the audacity to pull a stunt like this! If it ever happens again, I swear to you that I will end your miserable existence!" And with that final threat, he strode from the room, his heavy footsteps slowly dying away until Miles's ragged breathing was the only sound remaining.
An anguished moan sounded in his throat, followed by a choking cough that splattered more blood onto the carpet. "Oh… God…" he groaned miserably, his voice shaking as badly as his entire body.
Franziska stared up at him in terror. "Miles?" No, he was seriously hurt and needed medical attention immediately, but she knew he wouldn't get it. She couldn't believe that someone had actually taken such a brutal beating for her sake. Her little brother… had made a sacrifice for her wellbeing. "Miles, you're hurt. You-"
"Move…"
"Huh?" She noticed that he was now shaking more violently than before and his face was strained. "What did you-"
"Move!"
She had only a moment's time to roll out of the way before he collapsed, unable to hold himself up any longer. His head now rested in the puddle of blood that had formed below him, and it still ran in a thin, steady stream from the corner of his mouth.
"Miles… Miles!" Franziska didn't even bother trying to hold back her tears as she began shaking him. "Oh my God… Somebody! Help!" She lay down beside him, embracing his unconscious form and crying into the back of his jacket.
"Please, Miles, wake up! Somebody… help us…"