The Good Girl (18 page)

She pushed up from the floor and I noticed the gash on her forehead – small drops of blood dripping down to land on her cheeks and chest. She moved her hand to rub at it, pulling it away to see the stain of pink before standing on her feet and walking back up the stairs.

I looked over the wound, noticing that it wasn’t deep enough to have caused any long-term damage. “Well – that was actually fucking convenient, considering what we are about to do.”

Her question as to what I was talking about was hidden within her eyes, but she didn’t dare voice it.

Walking her into the studio on the far end of the hall, I moved aside to let her enter first. I didn’t want to block her view and deprive her of the full effect of the room. Her eyes widened and her jaw opened when she saw the numerous paintings hung on the walls. Her eyes scanned the room and studied the illustrations of the human body that covered the room. An arm here, a leg there – the contours of a man’s back – the profile of his face … it was all there.

“It’s you.”

I nodded, pleased that she picked up on the fact that it was my body that hung before her. Every deep scar that I’d not had covered – every reminder of my pain that she hadn’t yet seen.

“Stand there.”

She remained still where I’d left her as I slowly approached the front of the room. Taking my place in front of one of my favorite pieces, I turned to look at her – staring her down until my eyes could catch the slight tremble of her body. Anticipation was a wonderful thing. It could make the experience that much more pleasureful from having been made to wait.

Reaching up, I grabbed the top button of my shirt between my hands and I slowly unbuttoned as I moved down. Once free, I pulled the shirt from my body and watched her jaw drop to see my skin.

Not every inch of me was covered in ink, but the majority was. For every scar that marred my skin, there was a design. Mostly black, the lines cut up into sharp angles in some places and down into sweeping arcs in others. You could stare at the designs for hours and not pick out the all of the intricate details in that time – I knew this because I’d often looked into the mirror to see what I’d become. Each time the line crossed, it created another pattern – another shape. In every width and length that flowed over my body with small accents of circles or stars, it was like looking at the branches of a barren tree, peeking through to see the sky above.

“This is my art, Eleni. Every picture you see is my soul pouring out; the scars that ruined my skin, the nightmare of my past that will never leave me. Everything that I hold inside that keeps me distant from the world around me!”

My voice boomed through the room and she cowered at the anger that dripped from my words.

“You said you wanted to feel me and I will finally give you that chance. I gave you a rule, beautiful, one that would keep you safe; and as usual, you chose to disobey it. The first time led to you being thrown from the bed to the floor. The second led to me finally giving into everything I wanted to do to you. And the third …”

I tsked and slowly shook my head to convey my disappointment. “…The third will be the worst of all. The punishment escalates for each infraction and even the thought of disobeying me will NOT be tolerated. I make the rules to protect you – it’s your choice whether you are going listen.”

Her eyes blinked once and then twice and her hands moved from the sides of her body to be placed together in front of her. She was no longer trying to cover her naked body from me – but I always noticed that when she was afraid, there was a subtle alteration to her body language. She wasn’t attempting to hide her naked skin – she was attempted to hide her fear.

And her fear would never be something she could hide from me.

“There’s a desk to your right, do me a favor and open the drawer.” My voice had grown deathly calm, her eyes widening to know that it was anger that drove me – but something darker, more deadly than my rage could ever allow.

She did as I said and I continued. “Inside that drawer you will find a scalpel. I want you to pull it out.”

Her hand hesitated, reaching for the drawer and then pulling back slightly before she could touch the cold bite of the metal instrument.

“Grab it, Eleni. You don’t want me to have to grab it for you.”

Her hand finally reached in and balled around the scalpel’s handle. She pulled it out slowly and moved back to the place where she stood before.

“Good Girl. Now, let me explain.” I stared into her eyes, making sure that her attention was on me before I spoke again. When she stopped shifting, I began.

“If you were to touch me, you would find scars, Eleni; scars that were left on me by some very bad people. They were drug addicts – alcoholics – and they decided to get behind the wheel of their car one day, crossing the median and destroying everything I loved and my entire life that followed. I hated them, Eleni, just as I hate you. When I watched you online – saw the posts of your drunk ass flaunted in every bar in town, I wondered how long it would be before you took the lives of people as well. That’s the thing with addictions – it doesn’t matter who you hurt as long as you feed the demons.”

Her eyes widened and recognition finally started to fill in behind the blue.

“Yes, beautiful. That’s part of the reason I was drawn to you in the first place. There’s more, I promise you, but that’s an entirely different subject. For now, we’re discussing why you are NOT to touch me or even think you want to.”

Holding out my arm, I pointed out a large gash where parts of the back passenger window had sliced open my skin. Pointing it out, I looked at her and smiled.

“Do you want to know what this scar feels like? Because you’re about to.”

Her head shook subtly, her mind finally realizing what I was about to make her do.

“I want you to have the same scar, beautiful. Use the scalpel – be careful not to cut too deep. Then, you will get your wish. You wanted to feel me – to touch me – to know me … fine. Now, you’ll get your chance.”

Chapter Thirty-One

~ Eleni ~

The simple thought that he would command me to pick up a scalpel is idiotic on his part. I could stab him. Slice his throat in one simple move, and the thought continued to cross my mind until I realized he could snap my neck like a fucking twig. It would be a stupid move on my part, and completely ensure my demise. I bounced back and forth with my plan of attack, deciding it would be nothing but stupid.

I couldn’t help but take in every little detail of his body; the muscles most of all. Each tattoo may cover scarred skin, but the body below it was nothing more than a work of art. A Greek God of a sculpture. Something women wished they could have and keep for their own. His self-conscious nature screamed through in every action though. Even if I could only tell him how beautiful he truly was, I didn’t think he would believe me. He would never give me the time to cherish him the way he deserved.

He may have been a monster, but the demons were justified. After learning what happened to him, it all almost made perfect sense.

I felt guilty listening to his words because they hit far too close to home. He was right about everything, about the person I was until he took me. I would have repeated history and taken out an innocent family if he didn’t step in. It was my fate, but he changed that.

In his own fucked up way he was saving me, and saving whomever I would have hurt in the process.

“What are you thinking, Eleni? Tell me.” He interrupted my thoughts, but it was good because I knew these were musings I needed to release. They were eating me alive.

“You’re right, Gabriel. I would have hurt someone. My actions were selfish. All I wanted was for the voices to shut the fuck up. They taunted me for years, never letting me sleep or study without their constant screaming. The alcohol shut them up. It always made them quiet, even if it was just an hour or two of fucking peace and quiet. It was all that worked.” My hand gripped the scalpel tighter. The shiny metal flashed with a hint of sunlight exposed through a small crack on the far side of the room.

I pressed the scalpel to my arm and slowly began to slice. It was exactly what he wanted. The voices screamed as the blood began to seep from my arm; but the pain was freeing. The look on his face was pleasure and I knew I’d finally pleased him on a level he could never take away from me.

“I only want to please you Gabriel. You saved me and I can only hope I will save you from whatever plagues you.” He didn’t realize it, but I knew how indebted to him I was. I owed him. “I will be your Good Girl, but Gabriel…” I paused and waited for his eyes to leave the blood coming from my arm and meet my eyes.

“What will you be to me?”

He stood on the other side of the room with a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. I would never make the mistake again of trying to judge his moods based on his expressions. He was unpredictable at best. Taking a few steps across the room, he eliminated the space between us. Gabriel ran his fingers through the steady stream of blood coming from my arm before sucking it off of his finger.

“Eleni, my love, you seem to forget who’s in charge here. I’ll be whatever I want to be, and you will continue to be my Good Girl. That is how it works. Get it?”

I nod and take in his words.

He breathed out a deep sigh, his eyes flicking to the wound on my arm before he dodged around me, walking towards the door. “Follow me, we’ll get you bandaged up. But know that your actions have pleased me, Eleni.”

I glanced at his face and despite his words that he was happy, I saw a look of displeasure on his face - sadness even. Nothing of the smile that adorned his face from mere moments ago was left. He was grim, bordering scary once again. But, I followed without question because I knew it was the only option I had. I’d given myself to him, I’d promised to be his Good Girl, and now I needed to follow through with my own promises.

He held my arm and guided me down the stairs, step-by-step, ensuring my safety. I could’ve laughed at the gesture, but I didn’t. The menacing voices taunted me. They told me he would throw me down the stairs again.

PUSH HIM! Save yourself Eleni, he is only going to hurt you…

However, I’d learned to ignore them since I’d been in his possession.

I prayed for a moment that the peaceful voice would come back to visit me again; guide me through the good, save me from myself, be the conscience I never had. Without that voice, I was sure I would have been dead by now.

“Sit,” he commands, and I obey. Moments later he returned with a first aid kit and continued to bandage the damage I caused to myself. I couldn’t say I’d ever been a cutter, although I was sure it would have been far easier than drowning my demons in the alcohol I’d consumed over the years. The tattoos I used to mask my body would have covered up my own damage until I started to cut the areas already beautified by artificial means. I guessed that no matter what I did, I would always be fucked in some way; because of them.

His hands moved swiftly but gently; something I was not used to from him at all. His touch was always rough, so I’d come to expect it. As I savored his kindness, I thought about everything he told me. All the words he spoke. The terror he went through in his accident. His loss at such a young age. The demons he clearly continued to battle against. We were so much alike and so different at the same time. I wished I could’ve protected him from everything that made him a victim. No person deserved that kind of trauma. It explained the monster that he’d become.

As he taped the bandages in place, he said one last thing before sending me on my way into my prison.

His voice was quiet and his eyes refused to meet mine.

“I don’t want to be this monster, Eleni, but I have no choice.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

~ Gabriel ~

The metal of the cage door slammed shut against the opening and I quickly locked it before turning to leave the room. I couldn’t stand to look her, to see how far I’d pushed her.

I never intended to make her cut herself – I’d initially only wanted to scare her, but something about watching that scalpel slice across someone else’s skin - it affected me. I expected her to object, to cry or scream or fucking do something! But instead, and in one swift move, she ran that blade across her skin and I got lost in the crimson trail that leaked out over her inked skin.

So I didn’t stop her. I wanted more.

Poison ran from that wound – mine and hers. She didn’t mind the scar – didn’t care that she was permanently marking her body in a way that kept me hidden for years. The cut she inflicted on her body matched mine – her pain matched mine. She just didn’t know it.

But even then, it didn’t cut deep enough. It didn’t leave her wounded to a point of never being able to stand the sun on her skin. It didn’t leave her isolated and alone – cast out and imprisoned – damaged beyond any recognizable solace.

I wanted her to be that damaged, the same type of damaged that I was. I wanted her to suffer because of how she caused me to suffer. She was a symbol of my pain, a direct link to my torment and an example of everything I would never be.

I wanted her broken – because I was broken.

Fuck fixing her, fuck keeping the light inside of her alive. She didn’t want to save herself and I didn’t want to save her. I’d dragged her into my hell, I’d lorded over her fucking body and mind, and I was going to keep her there, trapped behind the same fucking walls that had trapped me since the day I was scarred by the actions of people just like Eleni.

Looking down, I noticed I’d never buttoned my shirt after the display in the studio. The lines of ink seemed angrier somehow, swirling and cutting across my scarred skin – a physical reminder of the ugliness that lay beneath. My hands curled into fists and my head pounded with the rush of blood through my system. I didn’t know why the anger was surfacing. I’d humiliated her, I’d hurt her, I’d beat her and I’ve made her bleed – but yet, it wasn’t enough.