Bleeding Smile

SEVEN

Teller
__________

Her almond eyes revealed a series of unbridled emotions, each one seemingly underscored by the same pressing question that I, myself, had pondered for over half a decade;

How much could the person you've always known truly change?

Perhaps there was a lingering part of my once sweet Leslie that remained adamant that I would never hurt her, that I possessed the same limits as before, and I ruminated this possibility as I shifted my knees so that they dug into her upper arms, restraining their potential mobility as I presented a roll of duct tape into her line of sight.

Her eyes widened and mouth parted where she was pinned on the ground. She wanted to say something, to scream again.

I needed that part of her thoroughly dispelled from her fragile being as swiftly as possible.

The echoes of what happened the last time she carried out her instinctive desires clouded her expression and made her silently shake her head in protest instead. But it didn't matter; I ripped a sizable length of the tape with a quick sound of torn adhesive and plastered it across her mouth, sealing each end against her cheeks with my fingers as I mimicked the motions of an exaggerated smile.

In the cloak of the evening and dense cover of trees, if I pictured it intently enough, a terrified grin could very well inhabit her beautiful face behind the tape.

But I didn't possess an eternity, or even all night, for that matter; I simply had whatever precious moments were allotted to me from a temporary blackout and false implications of a rewarding conversation. It was my intention to make them count, and it wouldn't be particularly pleasant for anyone but me.

Beneath me, Leslie's body made strained and fruitless efforts to wiggle free, even as I moved on to her wrist, bringing her hands together and taping around the space where the hems of her coat sleeves ended, going over both wrists and her signature bracelet. With six tight circulations, her arms were effectively rendered useless.

"I know this must truly suck for you," I acknowledged, watching her press her bound hands against her chest, as if she was both shielding herself and seeking any form of comfort available to her. "I'm sorry I can't reassure you, Leslie." I lightly stroked the deepening color on her right cheek with the back of my knuckles, and she instantly flinched. I'd have slapped her again if that's what it took.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't envisioned you just like this, just as helpless as you are now, for so many years." I observed her processing my words, smartly contextualizing them with what's happened to her thus far and perhaps what she thought might happen next. "In all honesty, there were entire days when the prospect of seeing you again was the only thing that kept me...well, that kept me going."

Sighing deeply, I shifted. I wasn't done. I exchanged the duct tape from my bag for rope, tying her feet together around her boots and finishing it with a butcher's slip knot. There were more protests from her; small, muffled noises from the back of her throat.

"I know, I know." I secured the knot tightly with a grunt. "I've missed you too, Leslie."

Had we still been children and I'd accidentally tied her too tightly while showcasing the latest ropework I'd mastered, she would've called me "rough" or "mean". I doubt those were the only words circulating her brain as I lifted her up and pressed her back against our ponderosa tree, tying the extended length of the rope around the thick trunk, over her shoulders, her stomach, her upper thighs, until I'd completely restrained most of her body with each wraparound.

Eventually, the thick bundle of nylon rope came to its end and I tied it around one of the loops near her left shoulder.

I took a small step back, and as I surveyed her, she reminded me so much of the wild game that would have the misfortune of stepping into one of my traps; chest moving in frightened breaths, eyes wide and pleading. Like them, she was even a bit bruised from previous, futile efforts at escaping, and there was, admittedly, a dark satisfaction in the knowledge that she now felt a fraction of what being imprisoned was like.