Master Over You

by Cerys du Lys

  *** Noah

  Today is my day of reckoning.

  I'm kissing Angeline, or I was, but it can't keep happening. I can't fucking do this. I can't act like I've done nothing wrong, that I didn't abandon her back then, that I didn't become some asshole with a bullshit fucking plan.

  Yeah, maybe I helped some people, but I hurt people, too. Sorry? What the fuck do you want me to do about it? Before I even started doing this shit, I hurt Angeline. I sat there while they fucking destroyed her very soul. I watched them use her, barely able to hide the sick fucking disgust I felt every single time. I wanted to vomit all over the stone floors of that sick fucking mockery of a church.

  I wanted to punch the guy who was fucking her in the face, rip him off of her, grab her by the wrist, pull her up, and drag her out of that place. I wanted to fucking dare any of those fucking assholes to stop me. I wanted to stare at them with a look that asked how the fuck they could be like this?

  I didn't, though. I just fucking stood there. Yeah, I had her to myself sometimes. I could stretch it to half an hour alone with her most days, or sometimes an hour if I was lucky. Every so often I could keep her to myself for two hours. I could give her a goddamn fucking break from the torturous shit that her life had become.

  Before that? You know what I fucking did? Nothing. I didn't know shit like that happened. I just fucking lived my life, completely fucking oblivious.

  Then I saw it, saw her, saw them, and... how? How the fuck could people do shit like that?

  He was going to sell her. I heard him talking about it one day, and I saw the transfer of ownership papers sometime later. I tried to get her to leave with me, but who the fuck knows why she wouldn't? So, I did what I needed to do. I killed every single fucking one of them and I burned that house of fucking torture and torment to the ground. We hid for a little while after that, just her and I, alone in the woods. Fuck, that was nice. We didn't have anything, but somehow it seemed like we had everything.

  The dirty fuck who was going to broker the sale between the asshole and her new owner arrived in our village sometime after the church burned down. I set everything up so that Angeline could stay with my parents. I didn't tell them what I was doing, but I fucking begged them to make sure she was safe and fine. Then I went to meet the broker and told him she'd died.

  I told him I was training, though. Fuck. I played it up real good, too. What the fuck was I going to do now? Hey, you need some help or some shit? Talked to the prick, mentioned some things I remembered from before I killed everyone in the church, and he offered to give me a shot. There wasn't anyone else left around here and he thought I might be useful. I never told him that I was the reason no one was left.

  Look, first off, let's get one fucking thing straight, alright? I don't regret killing any of them. I don't regret burning down that entire fucking building, either. If I could, I would have saved their ashes and fucking spit on them every now and then, just for the hell of it. I never lose sleep at night for the shit I did back then.

  I regret leaving her, though. Yeah, fuck, woe is me. Boo hoo, Noah. Fuck off. Just go fucking fuck yourself.

  What the fuck do you want me to do? This shit happened in a small as fuck place that I thought was literally nothing. Woods. The house where I grew up was in the middle of the goddamn woods. It took me ten minutes just to walk to the nearest fucking neighbor's house. I spent my free time swimming in the lake, fishing, climbing trees, being a fucking wild child. I might as well have been born a grizzly bear or a werewolf.

  You think this shit doesn't happen where you are? I didn't think it happened where I was, either. I didn't even fucking know it was a thing that could happen, but it did.

  So, yeah, fuck, I left her. I left her to protect her. I thought I'd find a way to kill the broker. Maybe I'd steal some money from him, too. I'd kill the fuck who wanted to buy her in the first place.

  I did those things. It's in the past, though. But there's more fucking people. There's always more. You can't just fucking go around killing everyone, either. How the fuck do you think that's going to work? Sometimes you have to bide your time and wait for an opportunity. Sometimes you have to work with someone who can do that shit for you. You know what the fuck would happen if each of my clients mysteriously died and the girl I sold to them was rescued? I'd be fucking dead in a heartbeat. It's not that fucking difficult to see it's not a coincidence.

  I work differently than that. I keep track of shit. I use the money they give me to buy back other girls and send them to someone who will help them. He's a nice guy. He's better than me. We have an understanding, even if we don't really. He's the fucking white knight who jumps in to save the day while I'm the asshole in the shadows who does all the work. You know what the fuck he'd be doing if it wasn't for me?

  Nothing. He wouldn't be able to save a single fucking person. How the fuck would he do it?

  Don't get me wrong, he's a good guy. He doesn't understand, though. I don't think anyone would understand. Maybe Angeline would. She's got no reason to, because she's going to kill me.

  I stop. We're done. I'm sitting on the bed staring at her and I'm ready to burst into fucking tears at this shit.

  "I'm sorry," I say. I am sorry. I wouldn't change what I've done, but that doesn't mean I can't be sorry.

  She smiles at me.

  "Sorry for leaving you," I say. "I didn't want to fucking hurt you. I wanted to come back. I sent money. Did you get it? I left a letter explaining shit to my parents. I was trying to—"

  I realize it doesn't matter what I was trying to do, though. It never matters what you try to do, it only matters what you do. I know what I did. Yeah, fuck, I wanted to go back, but I didn't. I sent money, but who the fuck cares? I can say I'm sorry for leaving all I want, but it doesn't change the fucking fact that I left. Nothing can change that.

  Trying is not doing, and doing is the only thing that matters in this sick fucking twisted rendition of the world. I wish I didn't know any of this shit. I wish I could be one of those people who thinks that trying and effort are important and that it's the thought that counts. It's not, though. Sorry to break your fucking bubble. Thoughts don't mean shit. You can think about something all damn day, but what the fuck good is it going to do you?

  "You can kill me," I say. I don't know why I say that. Angeline doesn't need my permission. "I fucking deserve it."

  I don't want to look at her anymore. I turn away, but I can still see her out of the corner of my eye. She tilts her head in that goddamn fucking cute adorable way she likes to do. I don't want to die, I want to fucking squeeze her in my arms and stay in bed all day and feed each other sliced fruit. I want to smile with her and watch movies together and then fuck and make love at the same damn time until we're too tired to move and we fall asleep in each other's arms. I want so much, but I don't deserve any of it. I want a normal fucking life again.

  "I do not wish to kill you," she says.

  "Listen, love, I get it. We don't want a lot of things. You told me how you keep thinking of fucking killing me, and I understand it now. I really do. I understand why you brought me here and did what you did. I'm a fucking loser. I'm an asshole. I don't deserve shit, so I'm not going to beg. You can torture me if you want. Rip out the rest of my fingernails. You know what? Do whatever the fuck your little heart desires. I can't complain. I gave up the right to complain a long time ago."

  "No," she says, struggling for words. I look at her now, but it's hard. "No, I... Noah, I missed you. I need you. Please? I did not receive your money, because I left. Your parents were kind to me, but I could not stay. They sent me some money early on after I went in search of you, but that is all. I suspect the money they sent was from you. I..."

  She doesn't say anything. We just look at each other. I want to fucking cry and she wants to cry, but neither of us can do it. We're on the verge of balling our goddamn eyes out as two fucked up people who do terrible shit, but there's no rhyme or fucking reason for it. I won't b
lame her if she cries, but any tears I shed aren't going to wash away all the fucking awful shit I did.

  "I killed it," she says. "When you left, I... I killed it. I did not know if it was ours or if it was someone else's. I did not have any way to tell. If it was ours, I would have loved it so much, Noah. If it was not, I would have hated it. If I did not know, how would I know what to do? Even now, I do not know how to feel everything. I think about love and hate, but when I try to do one or the other, I do not know how. I never knew how without you. You make me feel."

  "What do you mean, love?" I ask.

  "Our baby. I was pregnant, Noah. I found out once you left."

  "You... what?" Fuck. Fucking.... fuck. "You had an abortion?" I ask.

  She nods. "Yes."

  I guess it makes fucking sense. Enough people fucked her that it was bound to happen. Sad and unfortunate as that fucking is, what the fuck did anyone think would happen? Yeah, I had sex with Angeline, too. Just once, and I don't think she hated it. I really fucking loved her back then. I would have run away with her in a second. I would have stolen my parents car and just drove forever or until we ran out of gas, then I would have started a life with her wherever we ended up, if only she would have asked me. I don't care if we were in the middle of the fucking ocean on a rowboat.

  That never happened. Sorry to be the bearer of bad fucking news. This isn't some shitty love story you see in the movies. I wish it was. I love that shit. I'm not a superhero, either. It takes all my fucking time and effort just to save a goddamn single person, and even then I hurt a lot of people in the process, too. I stop more people from being hurt, but someone's always going to be fucking hurt. It's a sick, vicious cycle. If I hurt one person, but save two, is that worth it? How many people do I need to help for it to become worth it? I don't fucking know anymore.

  "Sorry," I say.

  I can't cry for a fucking kid that was never born that might have been mine, but I do it anyways. You know why? I don't. I have no fucking clue. It's sad, that's why. It's not sad because it might have been mine, it's sad because Angeline felt like she needed to do what she did. I understand. It probably wasn't mine. Who the fuck knows?

  If it was mine, would she be happy? Would she have stayed? I'd have done all the same shit, so my side of this doesn't matter, but how fucking nice would that be for her? Not that nice, because she'd have to raise the kid as a single parent. I'd like to think my parents would have helped. Maybe she'd have met some nice guy and married him and they'd have another kid together. Maybe she'd be happy.

  "I am not sorry," she says. "Noah, I need you. I do not know how to tell you this. I have followed you and watched you and I know what you do. I know you... you help them, Noah. You save them. I know this. I am trying to do it, too. I do not know how. I want to kill them. It is hard. There is something wrong with me. I do not know who to kill. You do, Noah. You are good and patient and kind."

  "That's a fucking laugh, love," I say. "I'm the meanest, most impatient fucking asshole I know. I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

  Then she fucking says it. She says the same shit I said to her once.

  "Do not leave. Please? Stay here with me," she says. "You can stay here and you never have to leave."

  It sounded so fucking good to me back then. It sounded like the answer to all our problems. I didn't have shit for problems, but I took it upon myself to make her problems my problems, and she had more than anyone I've ever known. It sounded like a goddamn prayer when I first said it, but now I realize it was a huge fucking lie.

  I don't think Angeline is lying to me right now, though. Maybe I'll stay, but we're going to get one fucking thing straight before I decide. I'm not going to deal with her fucking bullshit anymore. She can't just fucking do whatever the fuck she wants. I have no fucking clue what she's thinking, and I don't know if I'll ever understand her, but she's going to have to fucking understand this. Fuck her if she doesn't.

  "I'll think about staying," I say. "I want you to fucking listen to me, though. I'm not playing games here, Angeline. You better fucking do what I say, or else."

  She tilts her head to the side, blinking at me, curious.

  "I made a fucking promise to you, love. I told you that if I could, I'd give you my fingernails, right? I used to scratch your nose when you had an itch. Well, you've got six of the fucking things, and I've got four left, so you better just fucking take the rest. Today. Now. Before I change my fucking mind."

  You have no fucking idea how terrifying this is. I don't know why the fuck I just said that. I'm pretty fucking sure I'm going to regret this. It's going to hurt like hell.

  I change my mind really fucking fast, though. I stop doubting a single fucking thing. She pounces on me and hugs me and starts fucking kissing my face. She's fucking rabid for my lips. I kiss her back and squeeze her tight and she's holding me and nuzzling her head against my neck and being some loving fucking cuddly bitch. Fuck.

  "Do you love me?" she asks

  "No," I say immediately.

  "Do not lie to me, Noah. Are you lying to me?"

  "Yeah." Fuck off, fuck her. I can fucking lie if I want to.

  "Can I lick your fingers after I am done?" she asks.

  "You're a sick fuck, Ange," I say.

  "I know," she says sadly.

  Well, fuck.

  "Yeah, you can," I say.

  "I love you, Noah," she says.

  "Fuck off, love."

  "You are being very bad, Noah," she says. She runs her fucking tongue from my collarbone, up my neck, to my ear, then she nibbles lightly on my earlobe.

  I shiver. Fuck, that is some good shit. This crazy psychotic bitch is fucking amazing.

  I turn to her and I growl in her ear, because I'm done being nice for today. "You better fucking get twenty packs of condoms real fucking quick, love. After this is done, I'm going to fuck the shit out of you, whether you like it or not."

  "I will send someone," she says with the utmost sincerity. It's fucking adorable the way she does it, like this is some serious fucking shit she's promising me. "How many are in a pack? What kind do I request?"

  "Twenty-four if you get the value pack. I don't care what kind."

  "I will send someone to purchase one of the value packs," she says.

  No. Fuck you, Angeline, no. Go to fucking hell. I tell her this as gently as I can. "Fuck you, Angeline. I told you I want twenty."

  She gives me some strange as fuck look, like what the fuck do I want nearly five hundred condoms for? You know why I want five hundred condoms? Because I'm going to use every fucking one of them with her in a day or two, then beg her to get twice as many next time, and then I'm going to say fuck it and drag her to the doctor to get some goddamn fucking birth control pills because we're going to spend more on condoms than we do on everything else combined.

  I'm going to fucking live in this bed with her for a week. You want promises, Angeline? That's my fucking promise. I'm going to fuck you, and we're both going to fucking love it. If you don't agree, fuck off.

  "I do not know if you are sweet anymore, Noah," she says. She's got a beautiful fucking smile on her lips. "I think you are trouble."

  I kiss the fucking smile off her lips, but it comes right the fuck back. What the fuck, bitch? I do it again, and she just keeps fucking smiling.

  *** Angeline

  I take Noah's hand in mine and we leave my bedroom. I do not want to leave because I want to make love to him, but we cannot. Noah and I are dangerous together. We will do dangerous things if we are allowed to. I am unsure if that is a good or a bad thing. I desperately want to do dangerous things with Noah. I am eager for him to tell me who is good and who is bad, so that I may smile softly at the good people without worrying they are bad, and so that I may kill the bad people so they will not hurt those who are good.

  This is why I have brought Noah here. This is why I love him. He understands. He has always understood. He did not know me, but he knew that I wished to
be good during a time when everyone else treated me as if I were bad. He knew that they were being bad and he punished them for it. He killed them and he saved me. Was that good of him or bad? I still do not know.

  I like Noah's version of good and bad, though. It seems correct to me. I know that sometimes he is bad, but I also know that sometimes we are all bad. I do not want to be bad.

  I have been, though. I took Noah without his permission. I wanted to do it very badly. I hurt him. I removed his fingernails because of his promise to me. I did not want him to forget or to go back on his word. I did not know if he would listen to me or remember me if I told him who I was. In truth, I do not always remember who I was, myself.

  Noah is almost everything I remember, though. He is a little more rough around the edges and he has a problem with speaking excessive amounts of vulgarity, but I think I can deal with that. I will punish him. I will slap him on the face and refuse to kiss him, no matter what. I think that is a good punishment because I read about it in a book one time. It seemed very bad in the story.

  Maybe I will punish him differently, though. Maybe I will tie him up and hurt him but I will be careful and then afterwards we will make love together. I know that does not sound normal, but I will not hurt him a lot. It will be a different kind of hurt.

  I think about it now, because it excites me. I will bind Noah to a chair and remove his pants and stroke his cock until he's thickly erect, but then I will stop and watch him squirm and dance and beg. Then I will start again. That is not bad, is it? It will hurt, but in a fun way. I think that is fun. Noah, do you think that is fun?

  I squeeze his hand and look over at him but I do not ask him. I liked when he choked me on the bed the other night. That was fun to me. I think he liked when I choked him, too. If we use condoms, oh... oh, I will like that. Then we are safe. He will not hurt me. I think this is a good idea. I did not think about it at first, because I wanted to feel Noah's cock inside of me and I thought he would know to remove himself before he released his seed, but maybe that was not a good idea.