I looked at the scared child. Her eyes reminded me so much of what Karen’s eyes looked like that day. The horror reflected in those big black eyes gives me joy when it makes other soft. The demons kept surfacing. The inner good within me died a long time ago. This is me after being reborn to the world of darkness.
There was a time I almost turned back from this life. Almost.
Taking my socks off, I filled the tub with warm water. The girl sits still in the floor, waiting for my next move. I reached for the end of the chain and pulled her towards me.
“Come here.” Hesitantly, she obeyed.
I pulled her harder so that she stumbles into the tub. She almost drowned. I laughed. Her mouth was gagged with my boxers and a robe string. The blood between her legs was washed away, replaced by the lavender scent. This body wash turns me on. The scent of lavender reminds me of her, the one woman I could never forget.
The tub is getting slimy because of the soap. Bubbles started to form as she moved around. I wiped the child’s face with my hand while my other was touching her butt hole, playing with it, poking it clean. From her butt hole, my hands wandered further to her small clitoris, pea size. Then to the whole that bleeds. I tried to wash away the blood. With my fingers, I could feel where the flesh was torn. The outer area was stretched beyond the maximum that it should. The tear, almost and I mean almost, connect her vagina to her ass.
I closed my eyes and recall the day I met her, that girl.
My adopted parents were well respected in the society. They had a very good reputation given that one of them is an obstetrician-gynecologist and the other a cosmetic surgeon. Most wives of politicians, businessmen and whoever has authority in the society had, one way or the other met my parents.
When a new mayor was elected, everyone with power, may it be money, fame or fortune was invited to attend the ceremony. That was where I met her. She was twelve then and I, twenty.
I am a good looking adult, bred by respectable parents. My reputation exceeds me and this is far from who I am. I never failed to swoon any woman I like into my direction but I always stay decent, gentle, suppressing the urge to make any woman bleed. I know she will be mine soon. However, I secured my reputation with women. I dated and fucked women my age, or older. Never younger. Yet, this one, I will have her and she will come to me in her own accord. I will see to it.
I never attached myself to anyone. Why the hell would I when I can sleep with all women in the town? Yet this girl, something about her is compelling me. Yes, the kryptonite to my “superdemon”.
We were introduced as cousins. As if that could stop me.
She smiled, “Claire. Everyone calls me Claire.”
She attended an all girls boarding school in London even before she could learn to read. Her parents decided that she will attend middle school here. She needs to be exposed to the world after all, they said.
She smiles a lot. She smiles to people who look at her, glance at her and even glare at her. Indeed, she can light up a room. With her presence, my demons cowered back, afraid that if exposed, they will die.
“Rob. Robert actually but just Rob.” I said, trying to look stern, hiding my interest in her.
“So we’re cousins, huh? Funny though, I never remembered having one.”
“So do I” I shared her sentiment.
We kept silent for a while, seated at one of the corner tables as adults talked about politics, charity balls and whatever that keeps their hectic schedule busy. I took a sip of my wine, feeling it dry down as it goes my throat. Never had I experienced the drying of wine. I was too thirsty I guess. She made me thirsty.
“I can’t remember the names of most people introduced to me tonight. I need to take a breather. Would you want to come?”
“Alright.” I said with a sigh.
We stepped out into the balcony where a group of politicians were laughing about something as they puff their cigars. We resided in the other side. The day was in a bad mood and the evening is a sour grape. It rained the whole day. According to the event organizers, there was supposed to be an open garden after party but the garden bed is wet and no one wants to get their expensive shoes all muddy.
The night shone no stars, no moon, just a gradient of black and indigo. A creepy night. I felt…restless. Normally, I won’t notice the difference of a star filled night sky or an empty one. However tonight, I felt the emptiness within me reflected up there for everyone to see.
Clearing the thoughts in my head, I looked at her. She was staring at me.
“You look…different. Almost funny. Hmmm...” she looked confused. I was baffled. It’s as if she could read me thru and thru.
“You are reading me wrong.” I said and took another sip of the wine, inhaling its scent. The winery had some crazy idea of a lavender scented wine. It reminded me of something fresh. Claire.
“I like lavenders.” She said as she observed how relieved I was with just a sniff.
“I don’t.”
“Oh. It appears you do Robert.”
“Rob” I corrected. Robert is my adopted father. I never got used being called Robert. However, the way she spoke my name made all the right places tingle and a different kind of excitement in my chest.
“I don’t like flowers.”
She sat quietly, still observing me. I guess she really knows little of what lies beyond her boarding school. She never went home since she entered. Naivety is not innocence.
Her parents, having her as the only child, dragged her into this boring party. They want to brag about her. Such parents! I despised her parents. The day I left the orphanage, my adopted parents were overjoyed and introduced me to her parents who just looked at me as if I am not worth looking at. As I grew up and turned out to be an “impressive boy”, they started to be discrete in expressing their disgust.
They were very busy couple. From what I know, they see each other once a month, thrice at most. This is why Claire never went home. Now she lives with them for once to thrice a month. They are complete strangers for her. So am I.
I on the other hand was forced to attend as my parents brag about me being the top of the class and the handsome boy I turned out to be. Right. Few people are within our age range. Some were uptight kids who join adult conversations. For Claire and me, we settled for each other.
“You think a lot.” She blurted, still studying me. I kept still.
“I’ve read people like you; on the verge of intellect. You being smarter than anyone your age; ponders about things beyond ordinary. That results in mental illness, you know. Two things can happen to you, either you become someone very successful with a very intellectual job or a psycho.”
I was shocked yet I kept the reaction to myself. “That goes the same way for you.”
“I know. That’s why I read those stuffs about highly intellectual people.” She smiled; a flash of sunshine in that creepy night. It masked all the eeriness the darkness hold, almost eradicating it. This girl spelled danger for me written all over her face yet it compels me.
Shifting in my seat, I emptied my fill of wine. “What is your perception of yourself then?” I asked.
“Someone like you wouldn’t want to know.” She suddenly looked gloomy. The sun died in a very quick decrescendo.
“I would.” I encouraged. She looked at me surprisingly, not because of what I said but because of how interested my voice sounded and my face reflected. I regained my composure and repeated,
“I would.”
“That is preposterous.” She said, inhaling sharply, tensed.
“Well, that’s a big word coming from someone your age. I really want to know.”
She looked at me straight in the eyes. She parted her lips, wanting to say something but ended up in a gasp. She shook her head, her hair swayed with the motion. Then she looked up in the sky and remained still. We sat there, she looking up, I looking at her. It was a very long period to keep me anticipating yet I anticipated.
Finally, she turned towards me. “I cannot find the right words.”
That statement started our relationship. I became her confidant ever since. That night, we agreed on something – a diary.
“Diary?” she was puzzled. I would be too if I heard it come from someone else. Yet it came out of my own lips.
“Yes, a diary. We will write alternately, of course. I will start and when I am done with my accounts, I will give it to you. When you are done, you return it back. We will continue doing so until we find what lies within each other. Yours and mine.”
This interested her. The sparkle in her eyes returned and the sun was reborn with her smile. “When will we start?”
“I will start tomorrow. I’ll give it to you after a week.”
With her dark black eyes paired with her silky straight black hair she nodded. I had a fetish for girls that reminded me of her. Now, she is gone. The only thing I could do is find someone that could remind me of her…like this child I am holding in the tub.
I felt the warm blood from her small, torn vagina. I will tear it even more.