They Call Me Teddy: (Enemies to Lovers Horror Romance)

by Ella Burns

  “Still some fire in you yet,” she says in a whisper before dropping my chin. She turns and grabs something off of her dresser. I see a flash of what looks like a collar and feel myself tense from the phantom weight around my neck. The scars there are a result of the metal yoke I wore for so long before they left. Instinctively, I take a step back, knowing I can’t survive being in chains. Not again.

  “Jane, please….”

  My foot stops at Bud standing behind me and I push away, trying to get away from his grasp. He grips my arm as Jane turns, holding some kind of black plastic collar with a device on it. I thrash in earnest but even as strong as I’ve gotten, Bud is larger and stronger.

  “Jane, please, I’ll listen!” I plead even as Bud wraps his arms around my chest, holding me in place. Screaming, I kick and flail even though I know it's useless. I’d feel pathetic right now if I wasn’t scared shitless.

  But if Jane wants me in a collar, then in a collar I’ll be.

  She steps closer and I all but growl at her, even when she gets close enough to click the device around my neck. The second the weight drops, Bud releases me and I fall to the ground, my hand immediately going up to my neck. It’s not metal like before. It’s smoother with something electronic attached to it. My chest heaves as a type of fury I’ve never felt before fills me.

  Before I can think about what I’m doing, I scramble up with a scream and dive toward Jane. I don’t even get to her before pain like nothing I’ve felt shoots through me, and I drop like a rock. My breath comes out of me in a rush as another jolt hits me and all I can do is convulse on the ground.

  By the time Jane releases the button in her hand, black is swimming in my vision. It takes a moment to clear and when it does, I realize I’ve pissed myself and almost bitten through my tongue. Blood fills my mouth, dripping down my throat.

  I hear footsteps approach and manage to peer one eye up at Jane. The look of absolute disgust is written on her face, but she still manages a smirk as she waves the little button in front of me.

  “Watch yourself, Branson,” she says in an eerie, quiet voice. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten what happens when you anger me in the time I’ve been gone. I promise you will regret that I left you alive far sooner than I will if you cause problems.”

  I say nothing, just stare into her pitch-black eyes. She kicks her foot into my rib and I let out a small grunt. Her smirk grows.

  “Clean this mess up. When you’re done, you can do the dusting.”

  She walks out, leaving Bud to peel me off the floor and me to realize I already regret her leaving me alive. My hand goes up to the collar, rubbing it absently.

  The monotony of chores and cleaning is actually welcome, and I decide I do like the new pen torture toy, if only because it makes cleanup easier. I am a bit surprised that even after so much time has passed, my relative immunity to actually dealing with a mutilated corpse is still high. Having access to TV has meant I do better understand how the world works, and there are very specific names for people like Jane.

  And Teddy, I think bitterly.

  I watched a show last year about different mental disorders, and I remember being fascinated. I always knew Jane’s proclivities were against the norm, but I don’t think it ever occurred to me quite how much or what that really meant. At least now, I know there is something wrong in Jane’s head.

  Before Teddy left, I guessed that she had something dark inside of her too, but I didn’t have a name for it then. I just knew she enjoyed the blood and torture in a way I couldn’t understand. Now, I also know that child or not, Teddy too has something wrong in her head.

  I read once that knowledge is power. Considering I have no power in my life, knowledge is about as good as it gets.

  Chapter Five

  Teddy

  Despite that this house is decrepit and awful—and I have some basis for comparison now after our travels—there are a few things I love about it. The best? The giant soaker tub in my own personal bathroom.

  It was years ago when Jane did this room for me, and though it still reflects a little girl’s bedroom, it makes me strangely happy. The vintage vanity is now filled with makeup and knives. The large canopy bed is still there, though the drapes and sheets are faded with age.

  While I wait for the tub to fill, I make my way over to the long mirror beside my vanity. What a funny word for a makeup table. A vanity. It’s true, though. The women and girls who sit in front of such things are just that. Vain. I am no exception.

  I love the feeling of dressing up, of watching makeup transform my face into something new. Though the girly dresses Jane favors are much too young for me, there’s something appealing about my woman’s body in little girls’ dresses. I recall the way Bud looked at me earlier, and though the thought of him disgusts me, the idea of the power I know my body holds is exhilarating.

  I learned a lot on the streets without the rose-colored glasses of youth I held when I was on the streets with my real mom. I will say that Jane was right, and men truly are idiots. And many of them like to look at young girls. Quite a few found themselves on the end of my blades as a result.

  Though the room is dark, my pale skin seems to shine in the low lighting. I can’t help but admire how smooth it seems, save for the thick black lines running up one arm. My hand trails up the scar, the result of not tying down one of my victims well enough. I feel my teeth clench as I recall that night. How Jane decided since it was my stupidity that caused it, I would wear the scars from it. That evening, she sewed me up with the thickest black string she could find and for the rest of my life, I’ll wear the reminder.

  The one blemish on my otherwise porcelain skin.

  My mind wanders to Branson and the scars on his body, both new and old. Perhaps it’s the mindset of the child I was before I left, but he certainly seems different than before. Bigger, certainly, but there’s more to it than that. It seems Jane didn’t leave Bud much instruction as far as he went, and our pet has been treated better than ever. At the time when we left, I would have been glad to hear it. Now, bitterness fills me at the thought of how good he’s had it while I’ve been gone.

  In some ways, that makes this all the sweeter. I saw some small light in his eyes flicker when we had our reunion, but he doesn’t know yet how far I’ll go or the person I’ve become. He doesn’t know yet that all I want, what I’ve been waiting for, is to break him. I have all the time in the world, and he is all mine. I’ve been waiting for this, trained for this, and nothing will keep me from getting what I want.

  I smile at my reflection one last time, giving myself a wink before heading to the bath. When I’m done, time for more fun.

  Chapter Six

  Branson

  It takes me days to dust and clean everything upstairs with Teddy following me around harassing me at every turn. I do what I can to not react, knowing that is what she is really looking for. Eventually Jane tells her to leave me be and I hear her tell Teddy she’ll send Bud to get her a new ‘toy’. I shudder when I think of the boy the other day and what he told me.

  Did she really rape him? Is the girl I knew so far gone?

  For the first time in years, I let familiar mantras run through my head.

  Tachycardia, ventricular, Tachypnea, Tailbone, Tapzol.

  What is in my head is the only freedom I have. The thought is strangely comforting. She’ll try to bully and torture and tease, but at least I’ll always have the respite of my own head.

  The familiar sound of Bud’s steps leaving the house signal time to make my way upstairs to finish up the living room. I’m eager to finish for the day before he gets back with their new victim. Maybe if I’m lucky, I won’t get stuffed in the cage.

  I enter the living room and Teddy is sitting on the worn couch with a magazine in her hand. I manage to peak over to see what she’s reading and see a man tied up in leather on the cover.

  My teeth clench but I don’t say anything and continue my work.

  One night
a few months ago there had been a show on about sex and different fetishes, specifically something called BDSM. I was fascinated by it all. The man on TV spoke about submissives and Doms, how people found pleasure in pain and in humiliation. I imagined myself with the power to grant pleasure or pain. My eyes dart to Teddy and I feel my dick twitch at the thought of telling her what to do, hurting her for pleasure. Hers and mine.

  “Maybe we should get you an outfit like this?” she says, breaking me from my wayward thoughts. I look over and see someone in a full body latex suit, even covering their head. I shudder at the thought of being so confined, but say nothing. She laughs and turns the page.

  “Why do you rape them?” I finally ask, not stopping my task to turn and look at her. I hear her huff behind me and put down her magazine.

  “You can’t rape a boy, silly,” she tells me matter-of-factly, “I couldn’t do it if they didn’t want to!”

  I frown, but don’t respond immediately. A second later, she steps in front of me and my heart picks up in pace. She’s wearing another of her ridiculous dresses, this one with little cherries all over it. Despite the childish attire, she’s definitely grown into a woman the last few years. The lanky girl's body has made way for curves and it takes everything in me not to look down the ample space at the top of her dress.

  A single finger reaches out, trailing down my bare chest.

  “See,” she says softly. “Men only want one thing, only think about one thing.” She hums lightly, dropping her hand down to the bulge in my pants. My eyes bug out and I try to pull away, but she squeezes lightly in warning. “Even you, Branson, dear. Despite how much you hate me, you know you want me.”

  My teeth are clenched so hard I’m afraid they might crack, but I manage to keep my voice even and level, leaning my face forward, just a touch closer to hers.

  “I will never, ever want you,” I lie, my voice quiet but firm. Her eyes flash with something and a grin crosses her face.

  “We’ll see,” she says, equally softly, before something pricks my neck. I frown, turning in time to see the syringe just a moment before I fall.

  ✽✽✽

  When I wake up, my head is pounding and my mouth feels like it's filled with cotton. I let out a groan before I notice how cold my arms are. My head lolls forward and I jerk as I realize I’m upright and tied. I have to blink a few times, but when my vision clears, I find myself in a room I’ve never been in. It looks like someone took pictures of a little girl’s room and tried to create a poor imitation. Faded floral sheets cover the bed and in one corner, a small aging vanity is covered in stuff I’ve only ever seen in movies—makeup and jars and perfumes. Besides them are a familiar tray of knives and I know whose room this is.

  As I come more into awareness, I realize I’m also naked save for the collar. Ropes dig into my wrists as I struggle to get off whatever device I’m strung to.

  “Ahh, you’ll not get free of those, pet,” Teddy’s voice says from somewhere behind me, “I have been practicing my knots.”

  She pops in front of me, winking as she gives one of the knots a little tug.

  “Let me down, Amelia,” I say through gritted teeth, angrier than anything. I hiss when she darts a hand forward and slashes something across my chest. She comes right up to me, her face only inches from mine.

  “You can call me Teddy,” she whispers, before sticking her tongue out to lick up the side of my face. I grimace, pulling back as much as I can, but the board behind my head prevents me. She laughs again, clapping in a gesture that reminds me all too much of Jane.

  “Now that we have that clear, we can proceed,” she says before turning to a drawer and pulling out a small, black speaker of some kind. She fiddles with it for a moment before it starts working and music begins to play. I can do nothing but watch as she begins to sway with the beat to a song I don’t recognize. The frilly outer layer of her dress moves with her and my brow knits together, trying to figure out what the hell she is up to.

  Turning, she smiles at me.

  “Now, pet,” she begins, reaching behind her dress, “I believe we were having some disagreement that I intend to settle.”

  The sound of her zipper fills the room, and, in an instant, the dress drops to her feet. Beneath the girly dress, she’s wearing some kind of lingerie, black lace draped strategically over her. She continues to move with the music and I’m ashamed when I feel my dick get hard almost immediately, my nakedness doing nothing to conceal it.

  Her eyes dart down, and she grins before giggling, swaying her hips as she walks toward me.

  “You see, pet,” she says in a whisper, coming right in front of me, turning to press her back and ass against my hard member. “Men are always willing, and you’ve always wanted me.”

  I press my eyes shut as though it will block her out, though I can do nothing about her pressed up against me. Her hands come up around my neck softly. The familiar scent of her fills me and for a moment with my eyes closed, I can almost imagine I want to be here. I feel her turn around, but keep my eyes closed until she leans forward. I feel her tongue trailing along the new cut on my chest, stinging each inch.

  “Things can be different, you know,” she practically purrs at me. “It can be better than it ever was. You just need to let go, be mine.”

  My eyes shoot open and I push against my bonds, though I know I won’t dislodge her. She raises her eyes to mine, but instead of being filled with mirth like previously, anger clouds them.

  “Do you not want me, Branson?” she says in a soft voice before reaching out to grab my cock in her hands, squeezing tight. “Because this dick begs to differ.”

  Gnashing my teeth, I match her gaze and bring my head as far forward as I can.

  “I will never be like you, and I will never want you,” I tell her, my voice soft and level. Her eyes widen a fraction and her face transforms as she shrieks.

  “You’re lying! You want me!” she shrieks, and I’m actually taken aback for a moment. For the first time, I’m slightly frightened of this person in front of me I once thought I knew.

  “What the fuck is—” Jane steps into the room at the commotion, looking at the scene before putting her hands on her hips. “Teddy! What the hell are you doing!”

  Teddy turns to Jane and just screams as loudly as she can before pausing for a breath, her chest heaving. She looks practically rabid standing there in nothing but her little black outfit.

  “He is mine and I will do what the fuck I want with him,” she spits at Jane with her chest heaving and my eyes widen.

  I remember when I was young, maybe eleven or twelve, I did something by accident that messed up one of her projects. Jane beat me within an inch of my life for that, it took me months to recover. After that, I learned what it really was to be on Jane’s bad side. Despite the disgust and hatred I feel for Teddy, I still care. I still fucking want her, and I still fucking love her. I hate myself for it, but I know if I wasn’t tied to this fucking cross, I’d be stepping in front of her right now.

  I’m tense as I watch Jane, waiting to see how she’ll react to the hellcat in front of her. My jaw drops when Jane smiles at her, stepping forward to take her hand.

  “Teddy, dear,” Jane begins, the sickly sweetness to her voice making me want to gag even more than I already do, “Why don’t we go talk? Leave your broken toy here, he isn’t going anywhere.”

  Teddy looks over at me, her eyes raking over my strung up naked body and her body seems to deflate. A slow smile spreads across her face.

  “Okay, Mama. Let’s go talk.”

  ✽✽✽

  It’s hard to tell how much time has passed, but the pain in my back and shoulders is numb now. I don’t doubt I’ll feel it when, or if, I’m released.

  My mind wanders, but I do what I can to keep it from where it keeps returning. To her. Standing there in that outfit.

  My body and mind war with each other. The girl who was in a way like a sister to me, but at the same time always
so much more. Still so young, so twisted, and so sexual already. The fact that I look at her and feel desire fills me with shame and self-loathing. When I consider that she’s a fucking psycho who treats me worse than a dog and keeps me in chains, then it’s unbearable.

  I’m just so fucking tired. I feel like I’ve spent my entire life being tired. The years spent trying to please Jane. Of hell, day in, day out. Of watching people tortured and turned into her twisted art. Then Mia coming along and bringing something alive in me again, only to have her twisted and changed worse than Jane.

  At least with Jane I expected it.

  Knowing Jane, this was all on purpose. Two broken souls she can control, twist, and break. In all these years, despite what I’ve endured, I’ve never felt weak, broken. Not like this.

  I've seen too much death and pain for the short twenty-one years I've been alive. Any memories of my early years have been snuffed out by the depravity of the last almost two decades, and here I stand at the end of it all with nothing left.

  Coming to hell was an accident, at least in my case. Most people who end up here are brought here for Her. Then again, most people who end up here didn't last nearly as long as I have.

  Here I am, though, at the end of it all, and honestly? I envy the dead, for they remember nothing.

  ✽✽✽

  I jerk from a sort of half-sleep when the door opens, twisting my shoulder awkwardly and causing me to let out a grunt. My eyes rise to see Jane and not Teddy. I feel infinitely more naked than before. She moves slowly into the room, her eyes never leaving me, even when she kicks away the dress still lying on the floor.

  “What did I say about causing problems, pet?” She asks as she paces the floor in front of me.

  “You think I put myself up here,” I hiss back, not able to contain it. Her eyebrow rises, and she steps forward.

  “No,” she replies after a moment, “I suppose you didn’t.”