Oliver
As a young boy, when you're taught stranger danger, you're told to be on a lookout for a strange, overly nice man with puppies and candy, who wears sweater vests.
I suppose the message is correct.
Watch out for people who have what you what, and claim they'll give it to you for free.
I guess I missed the point. One thing they never tell you is to be wary of women. And I guess that's why I find myself handcuffed to a bed, with this lunatic who sits atop my chest, kitchen knife against her pink little tongue, the same tongue I sucked on last night.
She smiles softly. "Good morning, Oliver. Did you sleep well?"
My sister's got talks about going home from bars with strange men, but I never was told not to accept a glass of wine, or not go to house's scribbled on your hand by the girl you rode on a bus with for two hours. In hindsight, maybe I should've known better.
"Is this some kind of kink? Because while I enjoyed making love—"
"Aw," she cocks her head, her brows furrowed, a mock sad expression on her face. "You call it making love. That is so sweet. Sweetheart, I let you fuck me so you would go to sleep, and I could kill you. We all caught up?"
I nod, pursing my lips. Yep. A good summary. I lick my lips. I can probably break these handcuffs. They're not police grade. I could flip us over, take the knife, throw it away.
She edges the knife closer to my face, holding the blade right above my eyes.
Such pretty eyes you have.
I want to eat them.
You know, now that I think about it, those weren't normal jokes were they? It was ironic foreshadowing. An inside joke.
And yet, my body reacts to her. She is gorgeous, even now with that crazed look in her eyes.
"Don't think about it," she whispers. "Even if you can break free, this knife will go straight into your eye. I don't want to ruin them...yet." She kisses my neck.
Fuck. Fuck! Well...I did come to see a storm, didn't I? She leans back on my torso, resting on her hands. They're on either side of me. Just a few short hours ago, her body was under my hands. She made the cutest little noises—for a fucking monster. Don't judge a book by its cover or a girl by her moans, I guess.
Who is she? Who even does something like this? What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
"What do you plan to do with me?" I ask carefully. She sits up, and smiles, laying on my chest for a moment. I glare at the top of her head.
She sighs. I feel her take in a breath against my chest and I relish in it. I should hate her. I know I should but I just can't. Not yet. I shudder.
"I don't know yet," she says somewhat sadly. I think the Stockholms syndrome has kicked in, because all I want is to hold her.
"Let me go," I instruct her sternly, "Maurya."
She sits up, hovering over me with a desperate look. "I can't. I just can't Oliver. I need this. You'll give it to me, won't you?"
I swallow roughly and shake my head. "No...you deranged lunatic. I'm not going to give you my eyes. Let me go. We can pretend this never happened?"
She pouts softly, making such a cute face I could almost forget the knife she's almost at my throat. Almost. It edges closer. She wriggles on top of me uncomfortably.
"Why are you being so mean?" She asks innocently, cocking her head. "We had such a good time last night. You were nice to me then."
Is she...literally unwell?
"Well...you weren't trying to kill me," I inform her. "So there's that."
Her lip quivers. I wonder if I'll get out of this. If I do, I know it won't be unscathed. I feel like she's imprinted on me, branded herself in my mind. In a couple years from now, I'll be sitting in a bar staring unseeingly at a woman who almost looks like her, wondering what could've been.
Or maybe I'll die here. Maybe this is the end.
"Right," she sighs, sitting upright, dragging the tip of the knife down my chest, drawing a bit of blood. A wince. "Makes sense. You probably think I'm crazy don't you?"
I don't answer that. There's no need. I glare at her in silence. She's obviously fucked in the head. Maybe if I hold out, if I'm nice and sweet, she'll fall off to sleep. Let her guard down. I'll take that time to escape.
"Of course not," I whisper, looking into her dark eyes. "Something's wrong. You're a nice woman, aren't you? Tell me...tell me what's wrong."
Maurya sighs and chuckles ruefully. "Neither of us has that kind of time," she remarks painfully. "Ever since I can remember I've had this...need. This urge."
She wraps her hands around herself, shivering. "I can't help it. It's just the way I am, Oliver. The doctors can't fix me. They tried."
Well, they didn't try hard enough. I clear my throat and smile. It's fragile and weak but I keep it.
"Just...talk to me Maurya. You don't have to do this. We can just talk can't we?"
Maurya looks away. She hasn't put on any clothes. Her bare body rubs against mine, as she curls up under my arm.
"If you do the right thing," I murmur, taking her silence as encouragement that she's listening, That I can sway her, "Maybe we could...be friends."
Maurya sits up, puts her hand on my chest, and smiles. "You're just saying that. I can't let you go. I won't be locked up, not ever again. Don't even bother telling me you won't say anything. I can't trust you."
She lays back down, snuggling onto my chest. I should recoil with disgust, shouldn't I?
She heaves a sigh. "So what do I do with you, Oliver?"
It's a good question. I offer a crooked smile. Befriend my captor. Maybe even seduce her. It's my best chance. She's just a broken girl isn't she? It's clear by the way she has to physically hold herself together, burying herself by my side as if she were looking for comfort in the idea of me.
"I'll just stay here. We'll be...roommates?"
Maurya is quick to accept it. I won't say she doesn't want to kill someone. I won't even say she doesn't want to kill me. It's clear, that from the moment she met me, she marked me as her victim. But I get the feeling she's not as steady in that plan anymore.
"Really? But you know if you try to escape," she edges her knife deeper into my skin, drawing a wince. "I'll have to gut you like a fish," her voice drops.
My mind flickers back to a memory of North Carolina. I smile and nod. This is karma, isn't it? I wanted to see a tornado to be swept up in one. Well, here she is in all her glory, sweeping me into her madness. And do I deserve any less?
"Yes," I whisper. Maurya smiles softly, melting at the idea, cupping my cheek. She leans forward and kisses me ever so gently as if she were afraid of my reaction.
Despite it all, I return it, reverently, the softness of her full lips warm against mine. My muscles have begun burning from the strain of my hands above my head. Maurya pulls back, her locs surrounding me, blocking my vision. All I see is her, and she is gorgeous.
I lick my lips. "You're beautiful Maurya."
She looks away. "Yeah, but I'm a little scary aren't I?"
I swallow. I want to cup her face. I pull against the headboard and sigh.
"Your beauty doesn't scare me. Just the knife."
And she grins as if it's a joke but it's really not. But at least she's happy, and not threatening me or my eyes anymore so...I guess that's a win.
I glance out the window, noting the sun high in the sky. I wonder briefly how long I'll be here. I get the sinking feeling it'll be longer than just the night.