The Dawn of Darkness (Part 15)

I woke up that morning with a strange sense of peace. It was as if all of the horror locked away inside of my brain had been purged. I couldn't fully comprehend why I had dreamt all that I did, but it felt like a burden had been lifted off of my shoulders. I lay very still in the bed and watched her sleep. She was lying on her side, her shoulder was rising and falling gently as she breathed.

The sunlight began to slowly filter in through the curtains. She stirred and flipped over, rubbing the length of her body up against me. I ran my hand over her breast and gave it a light squeeze. She smiled, her eyes still closed. Her hand grabbed mine and brought it down between her legs. I slipped a finger inside of her and probed her the hot wetness of her. Morning pussy was always the most tender.

She ground her crotch up against my hand and moaned. "Come here," she purred, making a motion for me to mount her. She turned onto her back and opened her arms wide. "Come fuck me."

I stretched my body out over hers and slid into her with my morning wood. She raised her legs and wrapped them around my torso, allowing me the access to sink in deeper. I built a steady rhythm and savored the comforting sensation of her. I could feel the muscles within her contract and release. She ran her hands up over my shoulders and pulled me in closer, kissing my neck and then nibbling on me ear. I came quietly, letting out all of the madness of my brain from the last two days.

After I roll off of her, she sits up on her elbow and starts tracing circles on my chest. She is asking me to tell her something nice. Fucking woman, I think. I make something up. I'm not even aware of all that it is that I am saying. She acts annoyed. I shrug and shoot her a sheepish grin. I let my eyes run up and down her body, drinking in the sight of her. She really is a work of art.

"Fine," she is finally speaking again. "Then tell me who Katie is."

My heart grips tightly in my chest.

"You're Katie," I answer. This is the only name that I have known her by. I rarely use it, trying to distance myself from her in the beginning as I was building our roles of master and servant. To not identify her with a name was meant to distance myself from any ill will that I might develop about the things that I wanted to do. I'd read that somewhere, and applied it.

She furrows her brow hard. "No." The word is hard and the tone is elevated beyond annoyed now. "No, I am not Katie. Who the fuck is Katie? You were moaning that in your sleep last night."

I blink wordlessly. The girl. The one from high school. The one I dreamt I was, that I dreamt being murdered by someone that looked like me back then. Dreams were supposed to be a manifestation of hidden thoughts. Dreams that I had had over the years were very rarely based on anything that actually happened to me. I dreamt what I did to release pent up bullshit of some kind. I didn't dream it because it really occurred. There was no way. My mind was racing. No possible way.

"Oh, come on. Stop fucking around." It is the only thing that I can think of to say back to her.

Her face is twisted up and glowing a bright shade of pink. "My name is NOT fucking KATIE!" she snaps in my face. She is getting up out of bed now. Her hands go to her hips. Her breasts jiggle on her chest. "My name is DAWN! Now why don't YOU stop fucking around?"

The tone of her voice feels like nails on a chalk board, sending shivers down my spine. My pulse quickens. The air in my chest feels thin as I struggle to take in breaths. The vein in my temple is throbbing. But this is not fear. This is not frustration. This is anger. This is an intense flow of infuriation growing in me. My eyesight swells black around the corners of my view. As it draws into a pinpoint, I slam the palm of my hand into my forehead to attempt to shake it loose.

When I open my eyes, she is still standing there. Her skin looks mottled and not the sweet glowing vision that I remember. Her breasts, those formerly glorious globes are lined with tiny veins and spiderwebs of white stretch marks, the kind women get when the develop too quickly. Her soft stomach now just looks flabby. The delicate swirl of freckles on her chest looks like the splatter that bird shit makes on the sidewalk. My stomach lurches.

I leap out of the bed and am on her in two seconds, my hand in a vise grip at her throat. I slam her back against the wall and her arms fly out to either side of her. A squeak of sound escapes from her lips. Her eyes are filled with pure, unadulterated fear. Tears instantly spring to her eyes.

I begin to speak in a voice that is deeper than before. A gravelly tone. I start tapping her in the middle of her forehead with the pointer finger of my free hand.

"Stupid, stupid Katie." The words hiss out of my lips. Tears are running freely down her cheeks and she is trying to shake her head. I squeeze down on her throat harder and she goes limp. "I told you to stay put. I told you that you were done with. That I was done with you. You rejected me. My offer to help you. To make you better.

"I was so good to you, Katie. You wanted me, remember? You wanted everything I was. You were dying to get your hands on me. I was just trying to give you what you wanted, you stupid slut."

I looked at her wet face. Her eyes were closed and she was turning a dark purple shade. It was kind of pretty, actually. The best she'd looked in a long time. I slapped her on the cheek to rouse her. I wanted to make sure she could hear me talking. Her eyes opened into small slits. More tears poured out of them.

"I was giving you what you wanted. Attention. MY attention. You wanted me so badly, didn't you? You were willing to lie and deceive to have me. You were willing to put on a show. You were willing to do anything I asked.

"So I was just giving you what you wanted. I gave you the attention. I broke my rules. I allowed a fucking empty-headed slut to tempt me, to make me want her. Then you changed your mind on me. You no longer wanted me. No longer wanted to be with me, the REAL me. You fucking deceived me. You tricked me with all of your slutty bullshit.

"Then you acted surprised when I wouldn't tolerate it. Like I was supposed to just sit there and take it! You got me worked up, you let me think that you really wanted me. How the fuck was I supposed to respond?"

She is convulsing now. Her hands are weakly pulling at my grip. There is no sound coming out of her. Her eyes fly open wide and bulge out. They are still crystal blue, but the whites are shot with red. She blinks at me.

I hear a bang go off in the back of my head.

I squeeze my eyes shut, assume that my grey matter must be pouring from my skull. When I open my eyes, I see only my hand reached out in front of me, empty. I look down and see her on the floor, holding her throat, gasping hard. Her skin on her body is as white as a fishes' belly. The skin on her face is a deep shade of red. I reach down and offer her a hand to grab. She looks up at me in utter shock and disgust and slinks back into the corner of the room.

"Ssssssssss...." the air coming out of her sounds like a balloon with a slow leak. "Ssssssstaaaaaaaay away..... fffffffffrom meeeeeee." She has a hand outstretched in front of her and is waving it back and forth weakly. Her lips tremble.

I advance. She starts kicking her legs. I overstep them with ease. I grab her at her wrist and elbow and start trying to haul her up. She is crying and trying to scream, but a gargled noise is all that comes out. She is yanking her arm, attempting to free it from my grasp. I hold tight and fling her sideways onto the bed.

"Stop it!" I bark at her. "What is wrong with you?" I try to look in her face, poking at her eyes to see what is wrong with them.

"Why?" she asks in a hushed tone. "Why? What?" She speaks with great difficulty. She is shaking intensely. Her body looks like it is in the middle of an epileptic fit. I press her shoulders back onto the bed and hold her still. She closes her eyes  and two tears drip down the sides of her face, rolling into her hair matted under her. When she opens them again, they are clearer. The red is dissipating.

These are those eyes I love. So open. So clear. Perfection. She holds my gaze. I can't turn away. I am lost in them. She registers this. When she begins to speak again, it is with the greatest of trepidation.

"What is wrong with you? Why are you hurting me?" The questions are soft, I have to lean in to hear them.

"I'm not hurting you. If I thought I was really hurting you, I'd stop. I'm only giving you what you want." It sounded a logical enough argument to my ears.

"You think I want to be choked?"

"What? I never choked you!"

Her eyes get very wide. "Patrick..." she starts.

"Yes?" I answered, but am thoroughly confused. Patrick is my middle name. Only my old girlfriend would use it.

"I think something is wrong with you." She is eyeing me cautiously. She starts to sit up.

"No," I respond.

"Yes, Patrick. I think something is seriously wrong with you."

"NO!" I push her back down onto the bed, hard. Her flesh quakes and she lets out a tiny scream of shock, deep in her chest. She bites down on her lip to keep it from escaping. "You stay down! No getting up!"

"OK, OK, OK!" She lies back flat on the mattress and holds up her hands. "See? I'm lying down!"

I give her a curt nod. "But Patrick," she starts again. "If you were OK, would you really be hurting me?"

I sigh hard. "I'm not hurting you! Fucking Christ, woman! I helped you to the bed after you fell!"

An expression of lividness clouds her face. "Enough is enough, Patrick! I don't know what the game is this time, but I'm through playing! You hear me? I don't want to play anymore!  And if I don't want to play anymore, it means you're forcing me! You got that? Can you get that through your fucked up head?"

Her eyes are glaring at me. She is breathing hard, her shoulders heaving. Those blue eyes are back lit with flames, anger and irritation licking at me. I stand up and cross over to the dresser. My back is to her. "Fine," I say. "Game's over."

She cocks her head in apprehension. I start opening drawers, finding a white T-shirt and pair of men's boxer shorts. They appear to be my size, so I pull them on, stepping into them one leg at a time. I yank the shirt over my head and pop an arm through one of the holes. She is still, staring at me in disbelief.

"You mean it?" Her voice is barely a whisper. "Everything is OK? We're done with this shit?"

"Yep." I rifle through the top drawer. It is filled with women's silk scarves. I wrap one over my hand and turn around to show her. "Check this out. This one is really pretty."

She opens her mouth to agree and my fist connects with it, snapping her head back. She slides over and slumps off the side of the bed. I scramble down on top of her and wrap the scarf around her head, covering her eyes in a make-shift blindfold. She is shaking her head, trying to regain her stance. My fist comes down again against the side of her head and her body falls dead to the floor. Well, not quite dead, I think.

Not yet at least.