Their Wife

Chapter Ten - A Man's Needs

There was nothing this boy could do, and in my eyes, he was a boy, no matter his age, that would make me respect him. 

Nothing. 

That horse had already left the village. His fingers had touched me beneath my skirt without consent, for goodness's sake. There was no redeeming that. Not even after death.

The wide-open door taunted with its promise of freedom. I would have walked right past that joke of a man if it hadn't been for the predator lurking in the darkness. The memory of our energies touching made my hands tremble still. 

Unfortunately, the boy misread my body's response and, just like me, grew confident.

"I know you're scared, Iris. No harm will come to you if you do what I say, ok?"

His tone was suddenly smooth as freshly churned butter, and I couldn't find a single quiver in his voice. I got to admit, I was a little stunned at how swiftly he'd found his grip. Feet hip wide on the ground; he began growing taller until he looked intimidating, almost.

His facial disguise, basically a bunch of old stitched-together rags, only contained a slit for the eyes and one for the mouth. He could have saved the trouble of cutting out the mouth bit for all I cared. Muffled would suit him just fine.

"I will protect you. I promise."

I wondered if he'd trust someone who'd locked him behind bars and defiled defenceless bodies. Then again, he seemed to trust the man whose simple energetic touch had had me trembling with terror, so his bar must be set pretty low.

"What makes you think I require protection?"

My voice returned equally as soft whilst I imagined all the satisfying pain I wanted to inflict on him.

He wasn't prepared for my question. That became apparent when his upper body turned sideways, and his head gave a quick look over his shoulder to the dangerous corner with the strange man. 

Was the boy looking for guidance or permission? For help, maybe? Was he something like an apprentice? That would explain his previous anxiety.

But why didn't they show their faces? Simply to try and intimidate me, or were they genuinely planning to release me someday? 

Something told me it wouldn't be this easy. Especially after meeting this other man, I knew that there was more to me being here. That there was a more significant game at play. I just needed to figure out how to play.

The boy still seemed at a loss for words as he faced me again. Whatever help or answer he'd hoped to receive from his partner, he didn't. That in itself was satisfying.

"Would you like me to boil some mouldy water for tea whilst the cat got your tongue?" The sound of my sickly sweet voice made even me cringe, but that didn't stop me from packing on top.

"Perhaps a fresh cup of damp dungeon broth?"

"Enough!"

The echo of the boy's shout rang down the hallway like a bouncing marble. I realised I'd taken it too far when my eyes fell on his hands-now-turned-fists gripping the hem of his rugged tunic.

"Don't test my fucking patience, bitch."

He let go of his clothes and drew the back of his hand over his mouth, seemingly wiping spilt spit off his lower lip. My eyes were not adjusted enough to distinguish the boy's features which were revealed by the eye-slit. Still, I didn't need my sight to know they were laced with venom.

"You either comply, or you get fucking punished. Your choice."

My unpleasant conversational partner chose that moment to underline his threat by stepping towards me, bestowing me with a deep-seated feeling of dread. I was reminded of what I'd felt in the Ganlan Woods before I'd been ambushed. 

It was time to back-pedal now.

"I want to understand what I'll be complying with before I do," I said more amenably.

He remained still for a moment before his weight shifted from his left to his right leg. Then back again. He seemed uncertain, once more. It was like watching a young lynx trying to decide if its desired prey was worth the effort.

Subconsciously, my fingers moved over the tatters of clothes on my body, ensuring the least amount of skin was showing. Something was telling me that I needed, really needed, to watch myself around this boy. No matter how immature and tender he seemed in comparison to the other captor.

"Alright, well, Iris," he began, sucking in an audible breath whilst shifting balance, again, "you're to be my wife."

He didn't waste another moment to continue.

"First of all, you have to respect me as your future husband. I expect loyalty and devotion. Not this stupid nagging you're doing. Your duties will include washing, cooking, cleaning..."

I wasn't listening anymore. 

This child of a man must be insane if he genuinely thought I was going to comply with such a foolish demand as his. I was no wife of his. And I would never be. Certainly not to someone who thought a woman's worth was beneath a man's.

Anger boiled my chest, and I felt the hold over my emotions slipping as his mouth continued to move. My ears caught the sound of his voice, yet, my blood was rushing with such ferocity, I couldn't apply any sense to his speech. His words weren't relevant since this, me as his wife, wasn't going to happen. 

Muscles tensed, I tried my best to keep myself in check. Fervently, I searched for the calm within, but its blissful caress was slivering out of my grasp. I was just so angry.

My eyes closed, and I took a deep breath. This burning anger wasn't going to help me. I needed to get a grip. My mind tried to help as best as possible, sounding reminders of counting my gains and trusting the universe to provide solutions. It helped. Instantly, I felt more grounded, and my attention returned to what was happening around me. 

I soon wished it hadn't.

"...and most importantly, I'm expecting you to satisfy my needs at night."

He concluded his speech with a self-serving smirk plastered across his lips, but I didn't even register that anymore.

My head was overrun with images of a past I was adamant never to experience, never even remember again. Images of a girl, old enough to play with dolls, who'd become the toy of a father, forced to play foul games at night. 

Those had never been fun.

Without hesitation, without rational thought or control, my body jumped at his throat as if under possession.

I was ready to kill.