Seized in the Dark (gxg)

Ch. 24: AAOx3

My eyes fluttered open and for a brief moment I did not recognize where I was. This felt like waking up from a nap in the middle of the evening and forgetting the time, place, and even year of your existence, only to a much lesser extent.

I do not remember getting to bed. What was the last thing I remembered? Think.

Yesterday had been an unusually pleasant day, for the most part, then after dinner, oh yeah! Now I remember! Mistress and I were watching a movie.

Damn, I must have been exhausted because all I remember was warming myself up by scooting closer to her and that's it.

That's as far as my memory goes.

I guess she must have carried me to bed or something. That's nice. At least she made sure I was comfortable.

Shit, I do hope she did not take advantage of me while I was passed out. Her arm is draped over my waist.

Let me see.

Moving from my extremely comfortable and pleasantly warm position, I slowly pushed her arm off me and lifted the covers. It felt like my clothes were still on. So far so good. My hand reached further down until it was inside my pants, and to my relief, I could feel my underwear still present. That's another good sign. I do not feel any soreness in my genitals, not that it would necessarily be sore, but the lack of it was another good indication.

What else can I check? Maybe new bruises?

Shit.

That would mean that I have to face myself in the mirror.

I do not know if I am ready for that.

Screw it!

I will never be ready for it, but I need to know. The uncertainty is going to eat at me.

Quietly getting up from the bed and grabbing my glasses, I made my way to the bathroom where I know there is a full-length mirror which I have avoided looking at. I have purposely closed my eyes or looked another way when passing by that mirror, or even the one that sits above the sink. The silver lining to all of this is that the mirrors are nowhere near that damned bathtub.

I guess it is time to face the truth.

I locked the bathroom door and turned on the lights, then warily walked just shy of reaching the mirror.

Mustering up the small amount of courage that I awoke with, I closed my eyes tightly, buried my fingers into my palms, inhaled deeply, took a step to the side to position myself directly in front of the mirror, exhaled, and finally opened my eyes.

I...

I...

Shit.

Why did I do this?

Who is that person staring back at me? She moves when I move, and blinks when I blink, but that is not me.

This girl, her eyes, look worn out and sunken. They are lidded. The determined spark that once resided in them is gone. Her skin is pale, too pale. The healing cuts across her face and the varying yellow and green bruising mottle her appearance. Her cheekbones appear more pronounced as her cheeks draw into the sides of her face.

As my eyes wander down her face, they see that her lips are cracked and flaky. The corners of her mouth no longer hold any semblance of a smile.

Her messy, dry hair lacks shine and luster. It accentuates the reddish, finger-like bruising at the edges of her neck that contrasts the wide, band-like green bruise across her neck. The ghosts of scratch marks still haunt the somber memories of the first day.