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That was the only time I ever saw my father cry. Tears of anguish that caused the lines of grief to live with him to this day. A life lost in the cruelest way and it was all my fault.
As I drink the ever-present glass of whiskey, I feel the burn as I relive for the millionth time the horror of that day.
She had been beaten to death. Bruising to every part of her body, cuts gouged deep into her perfect skin. Two missing ears and her tongue cut out.
Because of what I did.
If I could rewind time, I would in a heartbeat.
If I could undo the wrong, erase the story and do things differently, I would.
As I cradled her lifeless body, my life changed forever and any feeling, any emotion I ever had inside me, left me that day. I don’t feel, I can’t feel, which is why I am locked in a prison of my own making.
The tears still burn as she revisits me at night. Always at night when the air is still and the demons circle. When Hell opens up begging me to jump inside. A tortured soul condemned to eternal damnation because of a rash decision I made with no fear of the consequences.
That is why I have rules set in place to stop something like this ever happening again, because if another person experiences the grief I feel every hour of the day and night, it will all be worthless. The lesson that was thrust at me at a million miles an hour will not go unlearned, and when I saw Holly’s story bypass my stringent procedures, I was pissed beyond belief.
Once again, I fill my glass from the dwindling bottle and knock it back to dull the emotion. I won’t let it in, but just thinking of Holly lying a few rooms away makes me stop and think. Maybe just one night would help a little. A soft body to cling to, to help me sleep. Protect me from the demons who call. They wouldn’t come for me there—surely and so I set the glass down and stagger from the room.
The hallway is silent. The occupants of this ranch fast asleep in their beds. Only the floor light sensors guide me as I stagger with exhaustion fueled by alcohol to find comfort for the night.
As I open the door, I see a heap in the bed illuminated by the moonlight and her steady breathing tells me one of us at least is sleeping.
Removing my clothes, the bed dips as I tuck myself under the sheets and pull her tightly into me. She stiffens as I wake her and I gently kiss her neck and whisper, “It’s me, go to sleep.”
Her soft sigh settles me and as I stroke her hair, I feel a different kind of emotion grip me. I feel protective of her. She is mine to care for and make sure no harm can come to her.
My slave, my toy, my woman.
I stroke her soft skin and she presses in closer and I kiss her lightly, gently, with care and consideration and whisper, “Go to sleep.”
As she sighs with pleasure, the sound settles my heart and I pull her in tight and the demons retreat. Then, for the first time in a long time, I drift off to sleep.
