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I turn and stare at the note crumpled on the bed that Malachi sent in the box, pieces of tissue paper discarded around it, and then notice the pills Gray left scattered around. Maybe I need more of those. Maybe it’ll seem less peculiar then, more normal. I pick them up and swallow two, not caring for colours as I put the rest into the bustier of my covering.
No more thoughts or worries. I don’t care for pain or memories either. We just fucked. Desperate fucking. The other man wasn’t like that. He was polite in some ways. Not Gray, though. Nothing was polite about the way he handled my flesh or took what he wanted from me.
I walk to the door slowly and swing my head back and forth, letting the high ponytail swish the back of my shoulders. It tickles as it brushes, annoys me, but that’s what the note asked for. Ponytail for a pony girl. I’m not a girl. I sneer slightly and look into the corridor, trying to remember which way is which or where to go. Desperate fucking. I can still feel him inside me, still feel his hands on me and his cock driving in hard.
I giggle at that and reach for the wall, my feet finding balance on the carpets that lead to the staircase. I remember that. Long and sweeping. Like Gray’s cock. Thick and heavy. Another giggle bursts out of me.
“Striking,” someone says. I look up and around, searching for the familiarity of the tone.
Malachi’s coming up the stairs, no shirt on his torso. I stare as he climbs, hand gripping the chain tightly in my fingers. Slow steps towards me. One, two, three. Heavy boots on his feet. Nothing tailored or precise like Gray. Long. Lean.
“Are you hungry?”
Am I? I stare blankly, thinking about food. “Yes.”
“Good. Come and have dinner with me,” he says, holding his hand out.
Yes. Dinner sounds nice. I take his hand and walk alongside him, using his frame as a counter to my slight sway on the steps. Dinner. I can’t remember eating last. When was that? A glass of wine would be nice. Red. Or white. What does it matter?
“What are we having for dinner?” I ask, stretching my eyes.
“You.” Oh.
I giggle and grip his hand tighter, wondering what that could mean. I don’t think I can eat myself. Maybe I can. Things happen here. Wondrous things. They’re things I want more of, distractions and disturbances from the norm. My nose screws up at the thought of leaving, haunting memories in my mind that I can’t quite place trying to find structure. I shake them off, gripping the chain and tapping my thigh.
Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.
My body tenses in his grip, as he turns us into a dining room. I’ve been here before, remember it vaguely. Five unknown men sit around the large mahogany table, all of them talking and ignoring us. Young men. A few older men. I drift my gaze over each one, unsure what this is or why they’re here.
The hand holding mine lets go and Malachi’s fingers tug my chin around to look at him. He looks over my face, then neck. “Hmm,” he mutters, letting me go again. “Hungry?”
I can feel myself curl away from the thought of this room or these men. Something feels different here. Insidious in some way. My smile’s gone. The relaxation I was sinking into – gone. One of them laughs, making me startle and jump backwards. And then suddenly eyes are everywhere, all of them looking at me and laughing. That happened before – veins in faces.
My throat tightens up at the memory, feet tripping over themselves a little as I keep moving backwards. Must leave. Must run and get away from the monsters.
“Mrs Tanner?” I jump again, hand reaching for the door frame. “Malachi says sit down.”
Why would I do that? Not at that table. There’s no freedom there, no fun. They’re still laughing, all of them echoing noise and cackles as if I’m the thing they’re going to destroy.
I back away another step, and another, and then something’s in my face. Small. Round. Swinging. I shake my head, try to ignore it, but it keeps swinging. Side to side. Side to side.
Over and over and over …
“Malachi says sit at that table.”
Malachi says.
Images flick through my mind one after another. Something swinging. Small and glinting in the light. Snow and cold. I stare blankly, watching it flick through my vision. Left and right. Right and left. A ball on a chain. Silver. Patterns on it. It’s slowing along with my heartbeat, the noise it’s delivering lessoning to a dull swish.Swish, swish, swish.My hands feel the rhythm as they lay gently on my thigh.
Tap. Tap, tap, tap.
“Malachi says sit at the table.”
“Sit at the table,” mumbles from my lips.
No noise now. No laughter. I ease forward and sit quietly at a chair he’s pulled out for me, calm settling. I’m perched as I look through the middle of it. No food. Just glasses of wine and half-drunk bottles standing tall by each man. Something touches my lips, something warm.
“Have another pill.” I smile at that and open my mouth, face turning towards his as he pushes another one inside me. Handsome. Funny. He made me laugh, asked me to spin for him.
