The Decimation of Mae (The Blue Butterfly) Page 11

  My head bashed against the plastic pillar when Master’s fist exploded my cheekbone. Fire surged from the base of my spine and up my vertebrae, bursting excruciating agony behind my eyes.

  My Master was one lucky son of a bitch. His violence halted my encroaching lunacy. The beating he gave me snatched my consciousness, therefore removing any threat my tumour had planned for me.

  Darkness swallowed me and the pain granted me feverish bleak oblivion.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Sometimes honesty is far worse than lies.’

  I sensed him beside me but I kept my eyes closed before I allowed him to set his fury free on me. His anger was tangible, coating me in the thick substance of rage. His heavy breathing was rhythmic and hypnotic, lulling me into a false sense of comfort.

  My head seemed better, although a dull throb pulsed in my temples; however, I sensed that was more to do with the hammering I’d received for yet another of my loose-tongued errors.

  My face felt only slightly swollen which mystified me. I’d have thought after the furious pelts he’d rained on me that I would have resembled an overweight woman with an addiction to Botox.

  Okay, so not too bad considering what my body had once again fought against.

  I inhaled deeply and peeked through one eye. Master sat in a chair beside my bed, his elbows resting casually on his knees as he leaned towards me. I was shocked to find him in pale blue jeans and a white T-shirt, the soft cotton clinging to every delectable muscle across his impressive chest.

  He continued to stare at me. I couldn’t get an indication of his mood from his expression, his eyes were cold as usual but his face was lax and soft. “Welcome back, Mae.”

  “Hi.” I cracked open my other eye, amazed to find my vision completely fine. I had expected either my Glioma to blur it, or damage to my retinas from Master’s hits. From the slight sting in my arm though, I knew Dr Galloway had been called to tend to me.

  Master took a deep breath and leaned back into the chair, crossing one ankle over his thick thigh and linking his fingers together in his lap. I couldn’t help dropping my gaze to appreciate the view. I hated how perfect he was. It made it difficult to breathe as my heart and head balked with hatred, but my belly and pussy burnt in need.

  His intense study of me became uncomfortable, his deep gaze suffocating and devouring. I cleared my throat and shuffled up the bed until my back rested against the headboard. My body was once again covered by the simple pink slip. It felt strange to be comforted by an item of clothing, yet the nightdress did exactly that. It felt like it belonged to me, and there, where nothing belonged to me, it gave me a sliver of reassurance and solace, as stupid as that sounded.

  He sighed again and twisted his lips, thoughts and contemplations racing through his eyes. He clicked his tongue rapidly on his teeth as his eyes narrowed on me. “How long do you have?” It was asked so bluntly that a lump formed in my throat. If he’d have smacked me with a cricket bat it wouldn’t have made much difference to the shock factor.

  I squirmed and dropped my eyes. “I’m not sure…” I gulped but powered on. “I’m not sure that is any of your concern.”

  His chin lifted slightly but other than that he showed no signs of offence with my answer. “Ahh, but that is where you are wrong, my little lamb. It has everything to do with me.”

  “Well, I’m sorry but I beg to differ,” I replied indignantly. It had absolutely bollocks all to do with him. I was slightly pleased at myself when I managed to keep those last few words in my head without them spewing from my mouth

  He chuckled softly and sighed with a hint of sadness. I frowned when he reached down and picked something off the floor. The corner of the bed restricted my view and I couldn’t see what he had until he held it up with one finger, exactly like I had. Oh dear.

  I gulped and hesitantly lifted my eyes from the silk knickers I had refused to wear, to Master’s eyes. One of his eyebrows was elevated, giving him an amused expression but the infuriation in his eyes chilled my bones.

  He bent yet again and I squeezed my eyes closed. I didn’t need to see what he had retrieved this time.

  “Open your eyes, lamb.”

  My stomach turned over. I refused to witness what he held. If I didn’t look then he wasn’t holding the proof of my misbehaviour. “I’m sorry,” I offered without releasing my eyelids from their defensive position. I didn’t want to see what furious expression he held whilst swinging those around his other finger, which I had no doubt he would be.

  “Now is not a good time for your lack of discipline to exasperate me any further. Open – your – eyes and look at me. Show some courage. I know it’s in you, Mae. You’ve shown it enough times, but unfortunately, always at the wrong times.”

  The clench in my stomach didn’t ease when I relented and opened my eyes; it twisted more when I found each offensive item spinning around each of his forefingers.

  His smile was sinister, his blazing eyes fixed on me, sucking the air from my lungs like he had comic book superpowers.

  “I’m sorry, “I repeated in a whisper.

  He nodded slowly. Initially I thought it was a nod of forgiveness but that soon turned to horror when he muttered three simple words. “Time to play.”

  I didn’t care that I resembled a rabid dog when I started panting in sheer fright. I didn’t like the sound of that. It left my fate wide open.

  He swung the bright yellow Lycra cycling shorts faster and faster until he flicked his finger and they shot across the space between us and slapped me in the face. “You acquire the privilege to wear those to the next breakfast meeting…” My breath refused to listen to what was coming and gushed the wrong way out making me splutter stupidly. “If you answer my questions truthfully.”

  Panic set in and I stared at him, my eyes wide and round as my chest heaved.

  “However,” he continued, “refuse and you get to wear these…” He neatly placed the knickers across one of his thighs, ironing them out smoothly, “…and only these.”

  “What? No dress?”

  He shook his head slowly. “No dress, Mae.”

  “And if I refuse?” I didn’t care if I was riling him. I was tired of playing his games, exhausted with trying to figure out his next move on the board.

  He laughed coldly. “Please give me the satisfaction of allowing me to demonstrate that particular choice. There is nothing more delicious that would make my cock hard than watching you swing naked, bleeding and bruised from a chain wrapped around your pretty little neck.”

  My jaw dropped. “My God. You’re just…” I snapped my mouth closed, my brain freaking out at my stubborn will to voice my thoughts.

  “Yes, I am just.” He leaned forward again but this time steepled his fingers and ran the tips of them along his lips. I could sense his excitement and I had no doubt he wished for my denial, the sick fuck.

  “Fine,” I spat. I didn’t need to ask what his first question was, he’d already asked it. “Two months at most.”

  His lips thinned as a tic twitched in his cheekbone. He nodded. “Why did you refuse the offer of treatment?”

  “Master, this really is of no consequence…”

  “Answer the damn question, Mae!” he shouted, making me flinch.

  I scowled at him, nevertheless I growled out the answer. “Because there’s no point.”

  He eyed me warily. “Oh come on, lamb. There’s always purpose.”

  “Not really.”

  “No, I apologise but I do not agree. Life is life, whether it be a mere dull existence or a rainbow of brilliant colour. Every heart beats the same as another. Every soul deserves the chance to shine.”

  “Yet you’re willing to snatch life away so easily.”

  I was surprised by his tolerance to my argument. I had expected his ire at my debate but he spoke as if we were having a casual conversation over coffee.

  “Because I have been given that job if you fail to meet the specifications.” He was op
en and forthright, granting me hope to dig deeper.

  “I don’t understand, Master. Your job?”

  He nodded once, his beautiful brown eyes never leaving mine. “Yes. I am an auctioneer.”

  “An auctioneer of what?” I internally begged him to keep going. His game of interrogation had switched, the topic now him and I was hungry for information, necessity to find out the truth driving me into the danger zone.

  He snorted as though I was stupid. “Why, you and other stock, of course.”

  “Other stock?”

  He frowned at me. “Yes. Did you think there was just you in my guardianship?”

  “Oh my God. There’s more here?”

  “You and one other, yes.” He shifted forward towards the bed and placed both of his palms on the edge. “You are both stock, objects for the buyers to barter against.”

  My mouth was too dry. I couldn’t seem to form words as my heart galloped in my chest and my stomach threatened to tear up my throat. “I…”

  He laughed. “Yes, and you’ve become quite the booty, so to speak. I’m actually quite amazed at how many bids you have received in the previous three years.”

  The room swam when my vision blurred, this time having nothing to do with my illness. “Th...Three years?”

  The information I had been desperate for sickened me. I wanted to remove the knowledge I held, scorch it from my mind and leave behind a black charred chasm that wouldn’t be half as painful as what currently possessed that section of my sanity. There was only one explanation for his revelation and that thought sucked out my soul. I asked the question although I already knew deep down what the answer would be. “How?”

  He rolled his eyes but smiled. I flinched when he yanked back the blanket covering me. Scuttling back when he reached out, he growled and wrapped his fingers around my ankle, pulling me back down the bed towards him. I cowered when he lugged up my nightdress.

  I gulped when he softly drew his finger along a small scar on the outside of my left thigh. “How did you get this scar, Mae?”

  I shook my head. “I… I don’t know.”

  He nodded and gave me a crooked smile, both pride and hilarity glowing across his features. “I do.” He ran his finger up and down the tiny one inch silver line. “I gave it to you.”

  “You gave me many scars, both internally and externally.” My unrestricted truth lifted his eyes to mine. A glimpse of pain flickered across his eyes, turning the deep rich brown into a dim hazel tinge. Was it remorse he exhibited or dismay at my recurring careless statements?

  “I did. Nevertheless,” he continued, “you won’t remember me creating it. You were unconscious at the time.”

  I shivered, horror at what he was saying filling me. “What… what did you do to me after?”

  I had no idea what had happened after Daniel had injected some sort of toxin into my veins after he had cruelly taken what he wanted from me. All I could remember after waking in my apartment two days later was how sore my whole body had been. I was too scared to go to the police. I knew they wouldn’t appreciate a young girl stupidly going to a stranger’s house, dressed like a slut. If I was honest with myself, I knew I would have given Daniel my virginity that night anyway. But I had been foolish, I thought it would have come with romance, softness and gentle caresses. I’d even packed bloody condoms in my bag. In the end it would have been a costly case of me, a wayward teenager with a history of depression, drug abuse and self-harm against a high powered businessman. And let’s face it, the house that Daniel had taken me to was not one a mere working class person could have afforded.

  It turned out it hadn’t even been his house. I had plucked up the courage four days later to cycle past at speed, just for a hint of something, anything to fill the gap in my memories, the gaping black hole he had created in my existence. Then when I had gotten there, a small throng of people were being shown around on an open auction day. How Daniel had acquired the keys to the place was beyond me, but his trouble at entering the correct gate code and inserting the right key in the lock had suddenly made sense.

  But by then it was too late. All evidence had gone and the internal conflict of my stupidity deterred my desire to report it.

  “Oh, don’t worry, lamb. I didn’t take you again. Although, in truth, I debated it. You were quite something. In spite of this, I like my partners to be sentient.”

  The conversation was becoming surreal. “Please, just tell me. What did you do?” I practically begged him, although I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

  He blinked softly at me, a faint smile tilting his lips gently. “You’re wearing a tracker, Mae.”

  I fell backwards, my back bouncing off the head of the bed as shock took over and I lost management of my own body. I struggled to breathe, each tiny pocket of air in my lungs rapidly firing up my throat in short little whimpers. Tears congested behind my eyes, stinging my ducts.

  My eyes bulged when realisation hit me. Panic saw me scrambling from the bed towards him. He reared back when I grabbed at him, the material of his T-shirt bunching between my fists. “What do you know? How much do you know about…? Do you know? Do you?” I fired hurriedly in desperation.

  I winced when his hand encompassed my throat and he pushed me back. “I suggest you hold onto that temper, Mae. Use it on me again and I’ll punish you severely.”

  “But I need to know,” I choked out, my voice high and tight as I pushed past the restriction on my voice box. “Please. Do you know?”

  “Know?” He narrowed his eyes curiously on me. “Know what, Mae? What are you hiding?”

  He obviously didn’t know or he wouldn’t be asking. I relaxed a little, forcing myself to calm down before he probed any farther into my behaviour. “You’ve been watching me for three years?”

  He relaxed his hold when he sensed my control. “No, like I said, you have a tracker, not a damn internal camera. Why are you so worried, lamb?”

  I swallowed. “Wouldn’t you be worried if someone had been following you around for three years? I mean, what the fu…heck? You can’t do that. It’s… it’s wrong. So, so wrong.”

  “Do you think I care about wrong?” He laughed loudly, once more mocking me. “Even with your disfigurements, Mae, my clients want you, need you. They ache for you, willing to outbid their competition with extraordinary amounts of money.”

  He leaned forward, a malicious glint in his eyes. “Once a year, each year, I’ve watched you, lamb. Tracked your location then watched you shop, watched you go to work, and then watched your self-pity through your apartment window. I have viewed you deciding which bottle of wine to treat yourself to each Christmas. It actually saddened me that you bought no gifts or any small luxuries for yourself over the festive period. I saw you get mauled by that fucker of a taxi driver when he thought you would pay for your ride in other ways. I witnessed your tears every Christmas Eve on the stroke of midnight, your huge eyes blinking in time with every single fairy light on your poor excuse for a Christmas tree. I’ve observed your every breath for five days prior to Christmas each year from my taking until your third year in which you were ready for me.”

  Each of his words caused another tear to drip from my eyes. My soul deserted me, its weeping too painful to witness. My body gave in and my mind closed down.

  Master caught me as I fainted and slid off the bed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Veiled evil exposes true depravity.’

  I shuddered when the tickle from the trail of his fingertip across my cheek brought back my consciousness. I didn’t want to open my eyes; I didn’t want reality to once more pain me. Everything was so fucked up, my whole life corrupted and blurred by lies and selfishness.

  For the first time in a very long time I missed my family. I missed the security of my mother’s arms, the soft but encouraging smile from my father. Connie’s laugh.

  “I know you are conscious, Mae. Open your eyes. Your education needs to continue immediately.”
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br />   I sighed but slowly slid open my eyes. His face came into focus immediately. He was close, his breath warm but far from comforting. “Please,” I breathed. “Please let me be. I can’t do this anymore.”

  He didn’t laugh as I had expected him to. Instead the tender tilt of his lips and the gentle stroke of his finger caressed my every sense. His eyes locked onto mine with something I couldn’t read. It confused me, warping my already delicate thoughts.

  His tongue stroked his bottom lip, catching my attention as he brought his finger down the length of my facial scar. “This frustrates me, lamb. Although it doesn’t spoil your beauty, it disfigures your spirit.”

  I swallowed slowly. I didn’t like what his touch did to my wild body. The arousal he created infuriated me, turned my body against my mind, repulsing my very own thoughts. My throat closed in as my heart thundered against my breastbone, the knock, knock, knock furious in its demand to be heard. “You took my spirit three years ago. So tell me, Master, how can you see its disfigurement when it’s already dead and gone?”

  He cocked his head very faintly, his gaze troubled. He twisted his lips and he inhaled deeply as though in serious thought. His touch continued to idolise my mutilation, as if his many strokes over it would heal the damage. “Your spirit is very much alive and passionate. I didn’t steal it from you. You tried to give it me willingly, lamb; yet, look at you.” His fingers moved around so he could cup my chin and position my face until I was looking at him. “You have fought me every day since you awoke in here. You refuse to relinquish your control. You still curse, you still argue and you still believe.”

  I scoffed and tried to shake my head out of his hold. “I still believe in what, Master? You tell me I no longer own my own thoughts, my decisions. Yet, here you are telling me the very opposite. Your frequent demands gobble up my individuality. And I know you won’t stop until you have devoured every last thought in my head, every single fibre of me and each piece of my mind. So, please enlighten me as to how I still have spirit when your relentless push to drive it from me is becoming more and more difficult to fight against?”