(4) I Wouldn't Care If She'd Just Been Cheating on Me

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So this is the FINAL chapter of the series. Enjoy. :)

As you all know by now, the "ending" posted in Part Three is bullshit, so let me fill you in on what really happened.

When I heard the knock on the door, I didn't know what to do. I looked around for any furniture that wasn't bolted down so that I could block the entranceway to the door. The only thing I saw was a coffee table (a flimsy Ikea one at that), but I figured it was better than nothing, so I propped it up against the door and made sure both the deadbolt and chain lock were secure. Then I ran into the back of the hotel room and into the bathroom. I had hoped that maybe there would be a window in the bathroom out of which I could escape. Of course, I had no such luck, and I thought of anywhere else I could go—a wall or window I could somehow break through.

Just as I realized and accepted that the only way out besides the front door in the entire hotel room was the front window, I heard it shatter and crash to the ground. As I stepped out of the bathroom, I saw the linen curtains get wrenched back. Behind them, silhouetted against the fluorescent lighting from the hallway, was my ex-girlfriend holding something with black and yellow markings in her hand.

She ran towards me, and I tried to get away from her. I was just about to escape back into the bathroom when it clicked what she was holding, and the taser clicked right after that, releasing its probes to enter my body. I felt them enter my back and felt its effects throughout. I went completely rigid as the electricity coursed through me. I hope you don't ever have to go through that, but it's like fifty heavyweight boxers decide to stand around you, each choosing their own spot, and punch every inch of you simultaneously. I lost all muscle control, but was perfectly cognizant of what was going on around me. I remember thinking, as I was falling to the ground, that it would be really anticlimactic if my life ended because I fell down and my head cracked open on the bathtub I was about to hit. There was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. I hit the bathtub with a thud, and I fell to the floor and continued seizing as she kept sending electricity through me.

She walked over to me and took out a syringe. She stopped the electricity, bent down as I started regaining muscle control, inserted the needle, and pushed down on the syringe. A cool heaviness spread throughout by body as I heard her say, "I promised you I'd fuck you up. Do you remember the second part of the promise, sweetie?" as I slipped into unconsciousness, for the first time of many that would come in the next couple days.

We stayed in the hotel room for a couple of days. I was kept under tight watch but was allowed to submit responses and comments on this story so that people wouldn't worry about me (thus the ridiculous part three). Fortunately, my ex never was the brightest, so she never caught on to my formatting tricks. I'm glad all of you, especially the beautiful, did.

She would leave me sedated in the hotel most of the day while she was out. I was never sure what she was doing. It almost seemed she was waiting for something. I'm not sure what was going on. After one short out of consciousness, during which I hid yet another bold plea for help on Reddit, she grabbed my arm and thrust the needle in. I felt the familiar a pharmaceutically-enhanced sleep come over me again.

When I woke up, I was somewhere completely different. I was very groggy and, I could tell, very drugged. I'm trying my best to remember everything and won't describe everything with perfect detail. Feelings came first, and one feeling screamed out above even the terror, the anger, the panic, and the anxiety. It was the pain. I cannot describe to you the pain. It felt like there were dozens of needles pushed deep into my flesh, like getting a hundred injections all at the same time, but the nurse never pulls them out but keeps moving the needle around, trying to find the vein. I slowly opened my eyes, and I saw that the way I had imagined the pain turned out to be absolutely true. Needles everywhere, covering my naked body. I appeared to be bound and had various cuts across my body. Sweat intermingled with the blood, the mixture stinging every open wound.

I opened my eyes a little bit more, and I saw a figure coming towards me. My vision still blurry, I tried to make out the face, but I couldn't before the strain from lifting my head was too much, and I nodded back down and looked at the pictures pinned to me. I had expected them to be of my girlfriend, but they were of someone far more beautiful than I could have imagined (and she seriously is beautiful, it wasn't just anesthesia goggles). I felt a calming presence and looked back up, and it was the same woman as in the pictures. I remember thinking that she looked like an angel, her blonde hair illuminated like a halo by the single light that was on.

It was then that I realized where I was. It was the exact warehouse in the industrial park where I had watched the blood magic ceremony. I don't know why that realization came as a shock to me, but it did, and I began to be frantic, trying to communicate to my angel that she needed to be careful. My mouth didn't cooperate with my thoughts, and my panic (and I'd imagine incoherence) grew stronger as I saw a dark figure approaching from behind the beautiful girl. She said something to me that I couldn't understand, but then I heard the voice of my ex-girlfriend, "Beautiful, isn't he?"

My angel was shoved into me, the pain of the collision overwhelming. While I'd been unable to produce intelligible words up to this point, a scream escaped my lips as the pins were forced even deeper into my flesh. I felt fresh, warm blood—her blood—drip from her abdomen onto me. She had been holding a knife that must have accidentally cut her when she'd fallen.

Miraculously, neither she nor I had been severely injured, and she managed to get up. The rest of the details are really fuzzy because the pain was so overwhelming. She has already filled you in on the details as she remembers them, but I do remember brief bursts of motion: the two of them lying on the ground, my angel pinning my ex to the ground. The beautiful girl looked at me, as if receiving strength from me. My ex screamed, "He will always be mine!" In the next moment, it seemed, somehow they were both standing, and my angel thrust the knife into my ex's chest.

With that motion and a unified scream from the two, they collapsed to the floor, my savior on top of my ex. They both had stopped moving, and I tried to yell, but only produced feeble noises. I was terrified what would happen to me and to the girl who had tried to rescue me, but then I noticed that my ex-girlfriend wasn't breathing, and the other girl was. I knew everything would be okay.

I sat there in excruciating pain for a while, still bound to the pole. I didn't have much light or even much to look at to distract me from the pain. I looked at the pictures that were covering me. The girl looked familiar, but I couldn't place her. The more I looked at her, both in picture form, and in real life, I knew that I was destined to be with her. I'd never believed in soul mates, but as minute after painful minute ticked by, I knew she was mine. And I knew I was hers. Recognition and connection like this can only come from some cosmic bond between two people.

As I was looking at the pictures, I noticed that there was something pinned to my foot that was not a picture. It appeared to be a short note—maybe a spell, I surmised, and I turned my leg so I could read it. It was in my ex-girlfriend's handwriting, barely legible on the blood-soaked paper:

When I found out my body couldn't have children,I knew I couldn't have you forever.You must hate me,But I will love you for the rest of your life.And you will love it.

I wasn't sure what to make of her letter and frankly didn't/don't care. I'm done with the bitch. With that thought, I fell asleep, overwhelmed by the exhausting pain.

When I woke up, I was somewhere I didn't recognize, but all the needles had been extracted. My wounds bandaged and nursed. I looked up and saw her, my angel, on the computer. She just had finished typing her account of the story when I managed to walk over to her and kissed her softly. It started out soft, but then it grew passionate as we knew we were meant for one another. Words weren't even necessary; we just knew it.

I think I'm falling in love with her. She's so wonderful, and I felt the bond between us grow when we made love. Every time I look over at her, she somehow becomes more beautiful. I can't even imagine how breathtaking she will be when her wounds—her cut abdomen, shredded legs, bifurcated nipples, and torn earlobes—heal.

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