The Good Girl (10 page)

Widening more, her eyes seemed to glisten out from beneath the sheen caused by her illness. Her skin was pale and her cheeks looked to be sunken in. Her shoulders drooped and I could see her hands shake where she held them. She wasn’t well, but I knew she would make damn sure not to let me notice. It was too bad that I’d studied her so much over the past months, that there wasn’t a single act she could commit that wouldn’t tell me exactly what she was thinking or feeling. I knew her – inside and out.

“You need to eat…”

“I’m not hungry.” She interrupted immediately, still refusing to give up the fight that burned within her. She would submit – had to submit – in order to be pulled from the mindset and lifestyle that would ultimately destroy her. She needed to love herself, but first – she needed to know what it meant to love. I intended to teach her that, even if I had to do it by force.

“Let me restate what I was saying: You WILL eat, Eleni. I can see from here that you’re falling apart, that your body is struggling to keep you moving. You’re shrunken and pale, you’re dehydrated. How will you ever fight me off in that condition? Wouldn’t gathering your strength be the better move – survive by taking care of yourself, rather than dying slowly for not giving a shit about who you are?”

I tilted my head to the side and took a few, slow steps in her direction. She eyed me warily, but didn’t move, didn’t dare break the position she held in front of me. She was still stubborn despite her compliance.

“What kind of person do you want to be, Eleni? The type that creates her own life – or the type who drinks herself into oblivion, who …”

“Who the fuck are you to talk?” Tears broke apart her rattled words. She was breaking down, the false front of absolute strength finally dissolving to a point where the vulnerable and weak person inside would show through the tarnished exterior.

“I mean, look at you. You’re standing there wearing all black and chains, living in some goddamned cathedral looking place – candles and art and music and shit – and yet, even though you’re so fucking put together, you’re the sickest person in this room. So what if I look like shit! I obviously was good enough for your sick ass…”

My hand was over her mouth before she could finish and her head was against the wall within seconds. The tips of her toes barely scraped the floor and her eyes were like perfect spheres swirling with fear and hatred.

“You’ve said enough and I’m fucking tired of the little bitch act that you refuse to let go.” I paused and gave her time to stop struggling before I lowered her feet the floor. Without removing my hand, I continued, “You’ve lost, Eleni. There is nothing you can say or do that will let you leave this place. However, the only monster you currently face is the one you see when you look in the mirror.”

Dragging her, I forced her to look in the large mirror on the wall beside the hallway. Her face was illuminated by the light above and her eyes finally opened – she was forced to stare at the reflection of who she’d become. There was no drunken barrier or fucked up male to tell her that she was beautiful. There was no ‘bestie’ or other slack-jawed admirer to lie to her in order to get between her legs. There was only me, her body and a mirror – captor, captive and the truth.

“You’re not strong. You don’t have control. You. Never. Fucking. Have.”

When she attempted to close her eyes, I forced her forehead into the mirror so hard that the glass splintered into tiny fissures. The blue finally broke free from beneath her eyelids and I held her staring at herself, compelling her to face the demons inside herself – the demons that were a parallel to mine, but for far different reasons.

“In truth, Eleni, you’re weak. You’re a danger to yourself and to the people around you. Your presence alone makes your friends and loved ones weaker because, not only do they have to carry their weight, they have to carry yours.”

She laughed and I was thrown off by the sound.

“Loved ones?” Laughing again, she finally sunk against the wall, pressing herself deeper into the fractured glass until small wisps of blood trailed along her broken skin. “To what loved ones are you referring, exactly? My friends who don’t notice me unless I’m handing them a shot, or how about the self-absorbed assholes who will say or do anything to turn me into their ten minute lay? Are they the ones that love me as my ass is pressed up against some dirty fucking toilet stall while they fuck me and grunt out their satisfaction? Are those the people I’m supposed to love?”

The tears fell from her face, trailing down beneath her chin and over the skin of her neck. I noticed how she swallowed hard – possibly, for the first time, admitting the things she’d just said.

Lowering my mouth to her ear, I whispered my next question. “Is this the first time you’ve faced the truth of your life, Eleni? Why now do your tears fall so heavily? Death doesn’t scare you – not once have you cried from fear due to the things I’ve done to you. No. It wasn’t until you saw what you’ve welcomed into your life that you cried.”

She turned her head slightly when I finally released the tight hold I had in her hair. “So what?”

A grin pressed out at the side of my lips and I took a deep breath to rein in the outward signs of my amusement.

“I find it interesting that you can so easily fight against me – fight against every person who does or says something you don’t like. But you can’t fight against yourself; can you, Eleni? When you admit who you are and what you’ve allowed to happen to your life, there’s no fight left in you.” Taking a moment, I remained silent, basking in the pleasure of watching her fall apart. I shook my head at the pathetic sight. “It’s like I said – you’re weak.”

Her tears fell even heavier when she repeated, “So what?”

I pulled her from the glass, and dragging her again, I led her into the kitchen before planting her ass in a chair at the small table near the stove. When I was convinced that she wouldn’t move from the spot I’d chosen for her, I walked across the cool tile floor to the refrigerator. Opening the freezer, I pulled out a bag of vegetables, turning to toss it in her direction before walking to where she sat. She barely caught the bag; but when she did, she looked up at me with confusion lighting her eyes.

“It’s for your head. You have cuts from the glass.”

“Shouldn’t you give me a wet towel or something? So I can clean it up?”

“The bag will do for now.”

She scowled and small bits of blood trailed across her skin. Sucking my lip ring into my mouth, I blocked out the images the crimson liquid awakened inside me. The mere sight of her blood dripping down her face made my cock throb under my dark pants. I had to hide my apparent arousal from her. I couldn’t let her see the impact she possessed. Images of her broken and bloody – crying as the force of my fist struck her face. Perhaps the width of my cock ripping apart every orifice that she had. I wanted to damage her more, to beat her down into an unrecognizable pulp only to build her back up into the person she should be. I hated the woman that sat before me, but I admired the one who was still hiding inside – the one who chose to live, to keep going despite the shit hand she’d been dealt. I didn’t have that person, there was nothing inside me. That person was still crushed inside steel on a two lane highway 20 minutes south of where I now stood.

“Put it on your head, Eleni.”

Hesitating for only a second more, she finally shrugged and brought the frozen bag to her forehead. When she complied, I nodded and moved back to the fridge to pull out ingredients for our meal.

“Can I get some water?”

If I hadn’t been listening intently, I wouldn’t have heard her words. They were spoken so softly, I couldn’t be sure that they were real. Turning around slowly, I glanced at the sullen look on her face.

“Admitting defeat so soon?”

She smiled shyly and I couldn’t help but return the gesture. Holding up her hands, she sighed before she stated, “I’m thirsty, okay. You’re right. I’m dehydrated as fuck and I feel like shit. I still don’t want to eat your damn food and I hate asking anything from you at all; but, you’re right about one thing: I fight. I’ll fight you or any other bastard who attempts to hurt me…”

“But you won’t fight yourself?”

“Will you stop with that, please?” Tears threatened her eyes and I watched as she struggled to control her reaction. “You’ve got me trapped in some strange place, in some stupid fucking pink nighty and instead of being a NORMAL fucking kidnapper, all you want to do is throw it in my face of how fucked up I am? Do you enjoy pouring salt on my fucked up wounds? Is this some kind of added insult to the injury that makes you feel somehow better about yourself? You’ve stolen a living, breathing person – a HUMAN FUCKING BEING - and I don’t even know what to say about that. What the fuck is your name anyway? I don’t even know what to call you!”

“Master.”

Her eyes widened and I laughed. In all honesty, it would have made me vomit if she acquiesced so easily to using that term.

“My name is Gabriel.”

For the first time since I’d met her, she looked at me without animosity or some false front. Staring for a few seconds, her hand moved to her thigh and, without conscious thought, she ran her thumb over the tattooed angel and said, “I love that name.”

Slowly, I took steps towards the table, grabbed a chair and turned it backwards to sit down. “Yeah, about that…” I said while lowering myself into the chair. “Why the angel Gabriel, Eleni? What caused you to pick that image to permanently brand onto your skin?”

The silence was thick between us and I watched as she battled herself, not knowing whether to tell me to fuck off or to finally just give in and talk.

She surprised me when she opened her mouth and spoke.

Chapter Seventeen

~ Eleni ~

At that moment, something shifted between us. I wouldn’t forget what he’d done to me, but I didn’t see him solely as a monster. Small bits of another side him flashed out every so often, making me realize that beneath the black clothes, the tattoos and the bitter exterior, there was a man who was as lost as me. He was just as vulnerable as I was, even if he didn’t allow his hardcore front to be impacted by my angry words. Now, as I was sitting there with him, guzzling down a glass of water he’d served me, I took the time to tell him about my most important tattoo.

“Did you know when the angel Gabriel appeared in the bible, he scared people?” I paused for a moment, and let that fact sit with him for a moment. I had his undivided attention and it was obvious that he hung on my every word. His attention was new to me and I felt shy to finally have someone listen – really listen – to what I had to say. He wasn’t some drunken asshole out for a piece, or my idiot friend pretending to understand my thoughts – he was a man who I’d only known for a day or so and one who seemed to understand the person I was inside.

“When Daniel met the angel Gabriel, he was so scared he fell flat on his face.” I let out a giggle thinking about other people having the same reaction to the Gabriel that sat mere inches from me.

Did I just fuckin’ giggle? What the fuck? Whatever.

“When Gabriel met Zacharias, his first words are ‘Do not be afraid.’ But people didn’t realize that every time Gabriel appeared in the Bible, he was bearing some kind of amazing news. The baby Mary was carrying, announcing the birth of John the Baptist, he announced to Daniel the prophecy of seven weeks. I’ve had so much bad news in my life, I needed the man of God on me. I needed his protection. I needed him looking over me, because no one else could.” Annoying fucking tears welled in my eyes and I slapped at them because I was sick of being weak and pathetic. Only this time, rather than crying from pain or from the fucking memories that continually haunted me, I was crying to listen to the words that fell from my mouth. “Maybe by having him permanently marked on my skin, I’ll hear some good news for once.”

I wasn’t sure why I chose to share that with him; but for the first time in years the voices were docile. I knew I hadn’t won - they would never allow that - but for fuck’s sake the peace and quiet was so nice. So fucking nice that I kept talking, not caring if he still listened. Looking back, I don’t think it was really to him that I was confessing – I was confessing to myself.

“So you see, Gabriel, my angel is my protection. Just kind of ironic that now Gabriel has taken on such a different meaning to me.”

A quick chuckle broke free of my lips and, with that, I shut up. I refused to give him anymore than I already had. I couldn’t give him anymore of me because I’d already given him too much. Anything more, and I’d have nothing left to keep to myself.

“So why not make your own good news?”

I must have looked at him like he was an idiot because his eyes narrowed from my expression.

“Okay, we’ll do it your way. I’ve got great news, Gabriel, in about ten minutes, I’m going to escape your place and run away to my home where I’ll no longer be captive. What do you think about that?”

He placed a plate in front of me with two slices of peanut butter toast. I didn’t engage him or say anything else as I waited for his response.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll have to tie you down again. I thought we were finally working this thing out between us. I say ‘jump’ – you say ‘how high’.”

I didn’t react to the angry growl in his voice. He wanted that – wanted my fear - and I was still holding onto just the tiniest bit of my stubborn ass behavior. Instead of responding, I turned my attention to the simple but delicious snack in front of me. I would never admit it, but I could live on peanut butter toast and milk. It’d been a favorite of mine since childhood. I didn’t want to overstep him, or push my already churning stomach, but I wanted milk.

“Do you have any milk?” I asked with a whisper. But he heard me, despite the quiet hush of my voice. He was hanging off of every word that I spoke.

“Would you like some, Eleni?” He was mocking me, making me beg him for every single favor he paid me. He was making it obvious that he held the upper hand, but he was doing it in a way that was non-threatening. In an odd way, he was adding humor to a painful situation. I could appreciate him for providing levity to the nightmare I was living.