When Demons Are Redeemed: The Dominant's Muse

Nine - The Dresser Drawer/All His

NINE

The Dresser Drawer/All His

When Donovan enters Catherine's suite the following afternoon, she is barely awake, following yet another sleep marathon. She hears him call out to her, and, a moment after that, sees his mid-section directly before her eyes. She exhales, and looks up from bed, in order to find his face.

The men of this world who have the natural right to power and to control, and who take it, are to be followed, respected and obeyed, no matter how outrageous, painful, or demeaning. Where did I learn that? And Tristan most definitely is one of those men, and he has taken control.

Donovan's purpose is to inform Catherine that the morgue received a Jane Doe, and that Tristan wants his newest “employee” escorted there in order that she attempt to identify the remains. The corpse is in such “rough” shape that identification by photo cannot be definite. But it is believed that the deceased is Malika. Was.

“Catherine, get dressed. Let's go,” Donovan orders, before exiting her room.

Feeling ill at the news, Catherine cannot move a muscle at first. When this paralysis passes, she takes a deep breath before slowly slipping out of bed, dressing herself, and then grabbing the torture-device that goes by the name of crutches. Pale and looking most unwell, she is soon following Donovan to the car, wincing now and then as physical pain shoots through her, adding to the other.

Twenty minutes later, Catherine enters the building of the big dresser, alone, and tells staff there what she was told to say: that word on the street is that another body has been found, and that she may be able to identify it. She soon finds herself in the dresser-room again, as police are eager to have their Jane Doe identified.

“Could’ve been you,” she hears an officer say, as he walks by her to exit the room. The thought has already crossed Catherine’s mind, but fearing for Malika has occupied it more.

When the male attendant in the room opens up one of the drawers and slides out a covered body, the woman working with him looks at Catherine before pulling back the white sheet, since she knows what sight awaits the visitor. And, indeed, when Catherine sees the sheet’s secrets revealed, she quickly turns away, takes two steps towards a garbage close by, and uses it as a collector for what she throws up, as a means to stop the mess. The sound of her crutches hitting the floor as she does so echoes in the otherwise silent room. 

The two other bodies that Catherine was shown when last in this room had been sewn up and had not been as visually disturbing. The body she had just seen, however, had been in pieces. Many pieces. And yet, that alone had not been what had made her stomach spit up mostly acid and little pills, since she is tougher than that, most of the time. What had cut her to the core had been seeing what was stuck into the corpse’s neck: that distinct, unique choker that Malika always wore, that she made herself. Seeing it there had pressed Catherine’s pain buttons all at once, as, although it was difficult to identify the remains themselves, that choker was definite proof. There was no denying it. And yet . . .

"She was wearing that choker when she died?" Catherine nevertheless irrationally asks, in a small voice, crushed. “Maybe it was put on whoever this is, after death?”

"It's stuck into her neck. She died with it on,” the man factually replies.

"May I see the other personal effects that were with her? It's difficult to tell from  the . . . the . . . body. I know that that’s my friend's choker, however."

The woman leaves the room and soon returns with a clear plastic bag. Catherine slowly extends already trembling hands towards it, as her eyes have already seen enough of its contents to know.