Darkroom Saga Omnibus 1

by Poppet

  It's spiritual, it makes me repentant and contrite, it makes me ashamed for my mistakes, it brings me to task because when you truly know love you want to give it away, to show it, to share it, with the ones you love.

  I know after so much reflection and self-analysis that I love Shauna. I don't resent her for putting me through nights of cold silence and stilted interaction. I just want her to heal. Even if when she comes back to her mind and emotions she wishes me dead and gone. Just to have her whole again will make me grateful beyond measure.

  Testing the water, I turn off the taps. Readying her towel and bathrobe, I exit the steamed up room, stalking to the lounge to escort her.

  Holding out both my hands, I coax, “Time for your bath m'lady. Take my hands and I'll spoil you like the princess you are.”

  This is almost like living with someone afflicted with Alzheimer's. We go through the same motions with the exact same result, daily.

  Putting her hands in mine she lets me draw her out of her seat at the window, walking with my arm around her waist to the en-suite bathroom.

  Undressing her, I get her settled into the water, picking up the bath sponge and lathering it with gel, foaming it and then lifting her foot out of the water, softly squishing the sea-sponge between her toes, pausing to appreciate her rosy cheeks and perfect complexion.

  “You really are beautiful.”

  She looks at me, tilting her head as if curious.

  The gesture bombs my mind with seeds of hope. That is the quirk of a personality emerging!

  Dropping the sponge I shuffle on my knees to her side, lifting her arm out of the water and draping it along the tub's lip. Capturing her hand I kiss it, keeping hold on it as I sit staring at her, saying softly, “You are first. You will always come first to me. No matter how long I live you are the lady who holds my heart in her hands. I'm sorry your parents couldn't show you unconditional love, I'm sorry for my own stupidity, but I promise you Shauna, to me…” Swallowing the lump and burgeoning tears, I sniff, forcing through the emotion, “To me you will always, always, be first.”

  She stares at me interminably, and feeling foolish I reach for the sponge again, collecting a bounty of bubbles and coasting them along her arm, whispering, “I never forgot why you chose that perfume. You smell wonderful with this on your skin. It suits you, it's the fragrance of the queen of my future. My sweet and sexy Shauna.”

  Dipping the sponge back into the bath-water, I glance at her face, my heart seizing up in a dry stall at the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Oh my god! Emotion! She's showing emotion! The fortress around her mind is caving in!

  Dropping the sponge again I sit up on my knees, leaning over the bath to examine her eyes. “Shauna?”

  A soul scorching sob bursts out of her and she wails, “You were dead! You … you … god I miss you so fucking much! Why do you haunt me incessantly!”

  Reaching in, lifting her up, I crush her to my chest, squeezing, crying, laughing, “I'm here. I'm alive. I'm here!”

  Shaking, she sobs hysterically to the point where I release her, reaching for tissues, blotting her tears and helping her blow her nose.

  She hiccups, wailing even though she smiles, her gorgeous blue eyes rimming with pain's red stain. The dam has ruptured and the suppressed is coursing out of her the way it did me when I finally broke through my repressed horrors.

  Pulling her out of the bath, wrapping her in the towel, I rock her, kissing her repeatedly all over her face, just so grateful to have her back. I did it!

  When the fit subsides, she dresses in her warm fleece jammies, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me, incredulous.

  “How? But … oh shit Vic. So much happened. It was awful!”

  Putting my fingers over her lips, I shake my head, “I know. I know. I can't begin to tell you how damn sorry I am for what they did to you. For what I put you through.”

  Kneeling down, holding her legs, I look up into the face of the most perfect person to ever walk down the tunnels of my heart, leaving behind footprints and laughter, that nothing can erase.

  Shaking my head, I cry without shame, “Baby, I made so many mistakes. I was brainwashed just like you and it took a coma to release me from its choking hold on my mind. I thought knowing words meant I understood them, but I didn't understand anything until I fell in love with you. I didn't know what love feels like because I'd never experienced it. I didn't know how it can transform a man of darkness into a man who can't abide pain or cruelty. You broke his ownership of my mind and made me need to protect you. I failed to safeguard you, to anticipate how far he would go in the name of glory and worship. I underestimated my own father and he tried to murder me because he needed to have you. He thinks he is god, but he's not. I know it now. How the hell can I ever erase what he did? How the fuck do I repent for what you've endured because I love you?”

  Sinking to the floor with me, she clutches her frail arms around my neck, squeezing herself against me, nudging her nose into the crook of my neck and blessing me with the soft touch of her lips kissing my throat.

  God, I've waited so long to feel this again. To know this. To rejoice in it.

  I am like a drunk, euphoric and rheumy, ready to stand on tables and shout to the world how much I love everyone in it.

  How much I love you.

  Squeezing her, I never want to let her go, mumbling into her long hair, “I love you. I love you more than life. Thank you for coming back to me. Fuck Shauna…”

  She sounds crucified when she whispers, “But I… Your brother, and father, how can you forgive me?”

  Shaking my head, I blurt, “It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your doing. Even the bible says, I will not punish your daughters when they commit whoredom, nor your spouses when they commit adultery: Hosea 4:14. His laws no longer apply to us and I can forgive you anything! I love you so much it would hurt too much to not hold you and love you until I'm old and deaf and decrepit.”

  “But the bible, the laws…”

  Cutting her off again, I insist, “I know he got to you and riddled your head with doubts and rules that you think will damn you, but listen to me, it also says, where there is no law, no account is kept of sins. Romans 5:13 And it says that love does not keep a record of wrongs. 1 Corinthians 13:5, which amounts to the same thing.”

  Choking again on my own emotional torrent, I close my eyes and savour the moment she cups my face in her little hands, kissing all over my cheek before softly kissing my mouth, deepening the kiss and wriggling against me, whispering in my ear, “I love you too. I think I'm in heaven because I'm with you. You belong in heaven because you're my angel. You rescued me, you loved me, you made me safe.”

  It's all a lie, she's living in a deluded version of the truth, but I don't care.

  She's back! My baby's back!

  Tonight I rejoice!

  Tonight the Angel of Vengeance finally dares to live again.

  Victory is finally mine.

  Like photographic film exposed to too much light, the over exposure has burned out what was captured, the light too bright, wiping out the effects wrought in a darkroom.

  Light creates a blank canvas, and now it's ours to paint in hues of laughter.

  Love has set us free.

  THE END

  ~ Alternate Ending ~

  Do not read if you like happy endings.

  This one is not a happy ending.

  ~ Chapter 28 ~

  I will judge you the same way you have judged others

  ~ Ezekiel 8:27

  Victor:

  The antithesis of fear is kindness. The antidote to pain is love. I know exactly what kind of madness she was exposed to in order to force her emotional centre to shut down.

  It's an act of self-preservation when survival overrides inherent human traits. The lady who was my wife is so far beyond being able to experience fear, or entertain her own opinions, to rationalise actions or experiences.

  We've been here for t
hirteen weeks, on the outskirts of civilisation, and every day I wake her with a kiss, putting her coffee down, replacing the flowers on her night-stand.

  I hold her hand, I've played only jovial music, bought only comedies and romances off iTunes to while away evenings, asked her to dance with me, hike with me, be playful with me, but still the breakthrough I've been pining for is frustratingly beyond my reach.

  I chose Norway because it's so far removed from the desert of her captivity. It's lush and verdant, the air soothing and clean, the dry dustiness no longer a constant in her environment. I don't know what her triggers are but I've done my best to remove every reminder of that place.

  So far life is peaceful, without threat. By my reckoning, even if Alpha survived that assault to his compound, it will be assumed that Shauna is as dead as 'her husband'.

  To him we are both dead, so there is no reason to search for us. The blessing and curse for her is that after six months of pregnancy the baby stopped moving. I cannot ascertain the catalyst for it, perhaps it was everything combined. Being proficient as a surgeon has its perks, but she showed no remorse or reaction to losing the child. She speaks only when spoken to, often looking away from me rather than make eye contact.

  It's deplorable. This status quo breaks my heart daily. If she wanted revenge she has exacted it a multitude of times.

  Closing the curtains, lighting the candles, I walk through the cabin to the bathroom, running her bubble bath. She has a diabolical aversion to what used to be her favourite foods, so now I'm just playing it by ear. I have a casserole in the oven which we'll tuck into after she's had her bath and is bundled up against the chill in the air. Perhaps I'll light a fire this evening.

  Her perfume of choice used to be First, and in my inferior wisdom I purchased copious amounts of the stuff, making a bubble bath solution for her, using it as the fragrance base.

  It pulls the edges of my mouth down recalling why she picked that perfume out of the hordes of variety in this world. She said she had always wanted to come first to somebody. Just once in her life she wished someone would put her first, to make her feel special and cherished.

  Again, I embody this characteristic too late for it to do an ounce of good. I can't fix all the mistakes I've made, or balm the abuse I've inflicted over the years, but there is one person who I can still save from my previous madness. I will never give up on her. I will dedicate my life to this rescue. I owe her everything and more, this is no hardship when the motivation is sound, the roots deep, drinking from the subspiritual well of love.

  Love is unconditional. That's why all those scriptures about punishment can't possibly come from a source of love. Love would never inflict an egotistical motive into something so pure. It's emotional blackmail and extortion which debases and corrupts the concept and reality of love without cost. Love without payment. Love which requires no-thing in return. Love can't run out or deplete, it's endless and infinite, it requires no 'fuel' or allegiance to exist. It simply 'is'.

  It's spiritual, it makes me repentant and contrite, it makes me ashamed for my mistakes, it brings me to task because when you truly know love you want to give it away, to show it, to share it, with the ones you love.

  I know after so much reflection and self-analysis that I love Shauna. I don't resent her for putting me through nights of cold silence and stilted interaction. I just want her to heal. Even if when she comes back to her mind and emotions she wishes me dead and gone. Just to have her whole again will make me eternally grateful.

  Testing the water, I turn off the taps. Readying her towel and bathrobe, I exit the steamed up room, stalking to the lounge to escort her.

  Holding out both my hands, I coax, “Time for your bath m'lady. Take my hands and I'll spoil you like the princess you are.” This is almost like living with someone afflicted with Alzheimer's. We go through the same motions with the exact same result, daily.

  Putting her hands in mine she lets me draw her out of her seat at the window, walking with my arm around her waist to the en-suite bathroom.

  Undressing her, I get her settled into the water, picking up the bath sponge and lathering it with gel, foaming it and then lifting her foot out of the water, softly squishing the sea-sponge between her toes, pausing to appreciate her rosy cheeks and perfect complexion.

  “You really are beautiful.”

  She looks at me, tilting her head as if curious.

  The gesture bombs my mind with seeds of hope. That is the quirk of a personality emerging!

  Dropping the sponge I shuffle on my knees to her side, lifting her arm out of the water and draping it along the tub's lip. Capturing her hand I kiss it, keeping hold on it as I sit staring at her, saying softly, “You are first. You will always come first to me. No matter how long I live you are the lady who holds my heart in her hands. I'm sorry your parents couldn't show you unconditional love, I'm sorry for my own stupidity, but I promise you Shauna, to me…” Swallowing the lump and burgeoning tears, I sniff, forcing through the emotion, “To me you will always, always, be first.”

  She stares at me interminably, and feeling foolish I reach for the sponge again, collecting a bounty of bubbles and coasting them along her arm, whispering, “I never forgot why you chose that perfume. You smell wonderful with this on your skin. It suits you, it's the fragrance of the queen of my future. My sweet and sexy Shauna.”

  Dipping the sponge back into the bath-water, I glance at her face, my heart seizing up in a dry stall at the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Oh my god! Emotion! She's showing emotion! The fortress around her mind is caving in!

  Dropping the sponge again I sit up on my knees, leaning over the bath to examine her eyes. “Shauna?”

  A soul scorching sob bursts out of her and she wails, “You were dead! You … you … god I miss you so fucking much! Why do you haunt me incessantly!”

  Reaching in, lifting her up, I crush her to my chest, squeezing, crying, laughing, “I'm here. I'm alive. I'm here!”

  Shaking, she sobs hysterically to the point where I release her, reaching for tissues, blotting her tears and helping her blow her nose.

  She hiccups, wailing even though she smiles, her gorgeous blue eyes rimming with pain's red stain. The dam has ruptured and the suppressed is coursing out of her the way it did me when I finally broke through my repressed horrors.

  Pulling her out of the bath, wrapping her in the towel, I rock her, kissing her repeatedly all over her face, just so grateful to have her back. I did it!

  When the fit subsides, she dresses in her warm fleece jammies, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me, incredulous.

  “How? But … oh shit Vic. So much happened. It was awful!”

  Putting my fingers over her lips, I shake my head, “I know. I know. I can't begin to tell you how damn sorry I am for what they did to you. For what I put you through.”

  Kneeling down, holding her legs, I look up into the face of the most perfect person to ever walk down the tunnels of my heart, leaving behind footprints and laughter, that nothing can erase.

  Shaking my head, I cry without shame, “Baby, I made so many mistakes. I was brainwashed just like you and it took a coma to release me from its choking hold on my mind. I thought knowing words meant I understood them, but I didn't understand anything until I fell in love with you. I didn't know what love feels like because I'd never experienced it. I didn't know how it can transform a man of darkness into a man who can't abide pain or cruelty. You broke his ownership of my mind and made me need to protect you. I failed to safeguard you, to anticipate how far he would go in the name of glory and worship. I underestimated my own father and he tried to murder me because he needed to have you. He thinks he is god, but he's not. I know it now. How the hell can I ever erase what he did? How the fuck do I repent for what you've endured because I love you?”

  Sinking to the floor with me, she clutches her frail arms around my neck, squeezing herself against me, nudging her nose into the crook of
my neck and blessing me with the soft touch of her lips kissing my throat.

  God, I've waited so long to feel this again. To know this. To rejoice in it. I am like a drunk, euphoric and rheumy, ready to stand on tables and shout to the world how much I love everyone in it. How much I love you.

  Squeezing her, I never want to let her go, mumbling into her long hair, “I love you. I love you more than life. Thank you for coming back to me. Fuck Shauna…”

  My perfect meal with my perfect wife branded my soul with the delight of a man whose life is fully restored to him.

  Even though I no longer subscribe to my indoctrination and its creed, I will always know the words in the book of corruption. It is recited millions of times a year across the globe, used to justify every action and reaction, but right this second as I turn off the light, all I can think of is; though I walk through the valley of darkness, I shall fear no evil.

  I feel resurrected!

  Curling up with her, feeling her balmy breath caressing my chest, the softness of her hair on my skin, and the swell of her bosom as she cuddles up, rest comes easy.

  My libido is in overdrive, but I will do things right this time around. I will woo her again, I will earn her trust, and I will respect her body. This time my angel calls the shots and I am subject to her happiness. Drifting off, the scent of First saturates my nostrils, leaving me to smile as I enter the comforting realm of slumber.

  •

  Shauna:

  I know how to pretend. I've been doing it for months.

  His words are blasphemy, his heart is heavy with sin.

  He judged others, he dares to criticise God.