Warmth

"Remember the day I told you I might leave?" Master asked as he popped another ruby-red rose petal in my mouth. I lay on the sofa, my head on his lap with rose petals sweetening my taste.

"Yes, Master," I responded expressionlessly. The truth was that I would miss him terribly, if he would leave. I didn't mean to sound monotone, I just felt numb. He & I had been together for years, practically inseparable. He'll leave soon. That was an introduction of the subject to come.

"Well," he started stroking my unruly mop of black hair, "I'm leaving tomorrow." Fuck. I didn't want him to leave. Not at all. Who was I without him? I had no real job, no family... no nothing. Just him. If it weren't for him, I'd be dead or eating from a garbage can. Or at an asylum clutching a creepy old doll with missing limbs that I'd call Marilyn my baby. I wrapped an arm around his knees & pressed my cheek against his lap softly. He was all I could love in this dying world.

"You don't really care, do you?" He asked. His hand stopped dead. I cared a lot, I thought. It was better for him to think I had no feelings toward him other than love for a master because he'd dismiss any form of affection directed to him. He needed love but he denied it because he was afraid to lose it in the first place. Part of me wanted to show him what he was missing although I knew better than to hurt myself. Marilyn would be torn to shreds. He'd start hurting before anything romantic happens between us. He'll push me away or Manson would feel confused. Hell would freeze over before he'd allow anyone to be close to him. Heaven would darken before he felt love. I rubbed my knees together & stared endlessly at the dark red walls, feigning not listening. I cared & that was thy I chose to stay away. Don't get too close. It's dark inside. His whole personality screamed just that.

"Answer me," Manson nudged my waist with his elbow gently. Strange, I thought. I expected to be degraded. This was so peculiar of him. Usually, he'd treat me like I was inferior, but he was being somewhat gentle.

"I care about you more than myself, Master. Please don't ever leave." I shifted from my position to look up at him pleadingly. Those words weren't meant to be spoken, not then.

"Don't ever leave me, Master," I repeated after a long while of no response. His eyes bore into mine.

Despite the fact that I showed him a glimpse of my affection, he still didn't respond. Master didn't like it when I showed emotions because he wasn't fond of lovey-dovey bull shit. He was too much of an angry figure, or so he thinks. Besides, in his eyes, I was just his play-toy. I was not worth much to him. I saw Master Manson as a loving, gentle giant who tried too hard to be dominant for his sake. He wasn't a monster as he liked to be perceived. It was all a facade that I had yet to go through. He tried to be as grotesque as possible to prevent anyone from going through to him. Marilyn didn't want anyone to break his fragile heart & that was why he didn't want affection. He was scared to love anyone back. Manson knew someone would get hurt in the end.

It was impossible not to adore him. Every single thing about him... his features, the way he moved, his attitude, his calming voice, his touch, the way he smelled like... everything. Manson didn't have to speak to represent his eloquence. The moment you see him, you just know that he was a strong, well educated man who fought for his opinions. But he was the biggest schmo for not realizing how I truly felt about him.

He didn't respond. He just stared straight ahead with so much emotions swimming in his eyes. Emotions I couldn't read. Damn it, I wish I knew what he was thinking about. Master looked down at me, his eyes glossy. Was he close to tears? Or was he happy? Was he happy he was going to leave me?

"What's wrong?" Master cooed quietly.

"Everything," I muttered.

"I'm so sorry, Jeordie," Master sighed, "really sorry."