disappearing....
Posted: Mon Apr 27, 2015 5:35 am
She sat on his stomach looking down at him. His deep blue eyes looked up to her shining in the candle light. Her fingers traced the outline of the livid bruise over one eye, then the split of his lip, the palm and finger bruising left from a choke hold on his neck, then the other bruises from green to black and everywhere in between.
"Are you sure?" She asked curiously as she moved her hand over a visible dent where a rib was very broken and still able to move when he breathed.
"I paid you to use me..." he said with a wince as she touched the rib, "not to be concerned,"
"No one has ever paid me to...." she started.
"Your in the pleasure business," he said looking up at her, "so please me..."
"But...how is this?" She started.
"Because I can't feel anything without it," he said taking her hand gently and presses it against his rib so she could feel it grind slightly before snapping back into place, "because the pleasure comes when the pain stops. Everyone understands hitting yourself with a hammer hurts, but no one remembers how good it feels when you stop doing it,"
She got ill feeling the bone grind and pop. The fact he was so calm about it freaked her out as well. She was being paid to torture him instead of bed him.
"It's not the same if I hurt myself...or I get beat up because I'm a bastard," he said with a smile that was as sweet as one would give a lover, "look me in the eye when you push it in and turn it,"
She looked at the thin knife he had for her to use. It was dull and jagged. She couldn't stomach it and she got up.
"You can have your money back...just don't make me do this," she begged.
"Keep the money..." he said softly as he closed his eyes, "I will forget everything again in the morning anyway...unless I write it down and read it when I wake,"
"Sir?" She asked, deeply confused.
"The reason I never asked your name nor gave you mine...every morning I wake to find I have lost most of the day before," he said, "I can't hold on to anything...it's all vanishing,'
"I had to write down everything and reread it every morning just to remember my name...and who my friends are...where I live.'
"I wake up alone...and afraid...and I am terrified that if something happens to my book that I will just disappear. I have done bad things and I deserve to be punished and me telling you this doesn't matter because I am not shit to you and other than being creepy...I won't make a lasting impression...nor will I remember anything tomorrow,"
"Sir...I...could stay..." she offered slowly.
"Leave...I need to learn to be alone anyway," he said softly as he rolled over onto his side exposing heinous bruising across his back...obviously beaten with a rod, "I....will be alone again soon enough,"
"You should get your friends," she offered.
"No....Scorch doesn't need this baggage...and I lost the rest...doesn't sound as pathetic when you says friends instead of friend, " he said as he slowly pushed himself up, "leave...before I do something very pathetic again like beg you to hold me....get out,"
She fled quickly when he took up the knife himself and buried it to the hilt in his own shoulder. It wasn't the fact he didn't scream when he did it...it was that he didn't do anything. He seemed disappointed.
He sat in chains looking at the floor blankly as he pulled against the restraints on his wrists. They had cut into his wrists hours ago and he just worked them every few minutes to refresh the sensation. He was detained do to refusing to obey a constable...he had then shoved the man and was beaten and detained.
He woke this day and couldn't remember anything but his name...because he had carved that into his arm. "I am Desoph Z'arathyr" it read. He was questioned by the authorities about an hour previous and couldn't say anything but his name.
He sat there and watched them blandly as they screamed at him, cursed him, slapped him, and yelled at him some more. Their administrations ceased when they removed his clothes to begin other things, and found the state he was in. One got physically ill and ended up vomiting in the corner.
He sat now wearing nothing but his under pants and a barbed celise strap which cut into his thigh. A healer had been in and was refused. A priest as well with the same result.
"Is there anyone we could send for?" Asked someone he didn't bother looking at.
"I don't know...can't remember," Desoph replied mechanically, "just tell me when your done with me so I can leave,"
"You need help son," said the voice.
"You better stop offering advice sir," Desoph said softly, "people may mistake you for an educated fellow,"
The footsteps walked away and he was left there. The next day was the same....and the day after that. Every day they would question him and find he couldn't remember the day before.
"We will hold you until someone comes for you," said a guard.
"Then I will just stay here," he replied, "while your at it...withhold my food rations for a few days,"
"What? Why?" Asked the guard.
"I heard hunger pains are a bitch," he said with a smile of complete serenity that made the guard's skin crawl.
He would remain there until someone came for him...they wouldn't let him go for fear he'd get himself killed....the only time he ever got testy or violent was when they tried to remove his celise strap which he moved to a new fresh patch every day.
"Are you sure?" She asked curiously as she moved her hand over a visible dent where a rib was very broken and still able to move when he breathed.
"I paid you to use me..." he said with a wince as she touched the rib, "not to be concerned,"
"No one has ever paid me to...." she started.
"Your in the pleasure business," he said looking up at her, "so please me..."
"But...how is this?" She started.
"Because I can't feel anything without it," he said taking her hand gently and presses it against his rib so she could feel it grind slightly before snapping back into place, "because the pleasure comes when the pain stops. Everyone understands hitting yourself with a hammer hurts, but no one remembers how good it feels when you stop doing it,"
She got ill feeling the bone grind and pop. The fact he was so calm about it freaked her out as well. She was being paid to torture him instead of bed him.
"It's not the same if I hurt myself...or I get beat up because I'm a bastard," he said with a smile that was as sweet as one would give a lover, "look me in the eye when you push it in and turn it,"
She looked at the thin knife he had for her to use. It was dull and jagged. She couldn't stomach it and she got up.
"You can have your money back...just don't make me do this," she begged.
"Keep the money..." he said softly as he closed his eyes, "I will forget everything again in the morning anyway...unless I write it down and read it when I wake,"
"Sir?" She asked, deeply confused.
"The reason I never asked your name nor gave you mine...every morning I wake to find I have lost most of the day before," he said, "I can't hold on to anything...it's all vanishing,'
"I had to write down everything and reread it every morning just to remember my name...and who my friends are...where I live.'
"I wake up alone...and afraid...and I am terrified that if something happens to my book that I will just disappear. I have done bad things and I deserve to be punished and me telling you this doesn't matter because I am not shit to you and other than being creepy...I won't make a lasting impression...nor will I remember anything tomorrow,"
"Sir...I...could stay..." she offered slowly.
"Leave...I need to learn to be alone anyway," he said softly as he rolled over onto his side exposing heinous bruising across his back...obviously beaten with a rod, "I....will be alone again soon enough,"
"You should get your friends," she offered.
"No....Scorch doesn't need this baggage...and I lost the rest...doesn't sound as pathetic when you says friends instead of friend, " he said as he slowly pushed himself up, "leave...before I do something very pathetic again like beg you to hold me....get out,"
She fled quickly when he took up the knife himself and buried it to the hilt in his own shoulder. It wasn't the fact he didn't scream when he did it...it was that he didn't do anything. He seemed disappointed.
He sat in chains looking at the floor blankly as he pulled against the restraints on his wrists. They had cut into his wrists hours ago and he just worked them every few minutes to refresh the sensation. He was detained do to refusing to obey a constable...he had then shoved the man and was beaten and detained.
He woke this day and couldn't remember anything but his name...because he had carved that into his arm. "I am Desoph Z'arathyr" it read. He was questioned by the authorities about an hour previous and couldn't say anything but his name.
He sat there and watched them blandly as they screamed at him, cursed him, slapped him, and yelled at him some more. Their administrations ceased when they removed his clothes to begin other things, and found the state he was in. One got physically ill and ended up vomiting in the corner.
He sat now wearing nothing but his under pants and a barbed celise strap which cut into his thigh. A healer had been in and was refused. A priest as well with the same result.
"Is there anyone we could send for?" Asked someone he didn't bother looking at.
"I don't know...can't remember," Desoph replied mechanically, "just tell me when your done with me so I can leave,"
"You need help son," said the voice.
"You better stop offering advice sir," Desoph said softly, "people may mistake you for an educated fellow,"
The footsteps walked away and he was left there. The next day was the same....and the day after that. Every day they would question him and find he couldn't remember the day before.
"We will hold you until someone comes for you," said a guard.
"Then I will just stay here," he replied, "while your at it...withhold my food rations for a few days,"
"What? Why?" Asked the guard.
"I heard hunger pains are a bitch," he said with a smile of complete serenity that made the guard's skin crawl.
He would remain there until someone came for him...they wouldn't let him go for fear he'd get himself killed....the only time he ever got testy or violent was when they tried to remove his celise strap which he moved to a new fresh patch every day.