Flower in the Dark

I slump to the floor, my knees giving out. He strides away from me to the door, closing and locking it behind him, my anguished cry ignored.

25

Z

I slide the bolts back across and lock the door, the biggest fucking grin on my face. Her howls of fury and despair are like music to my ears. That was a lot more fun than I imagined it would be. Poor little flower, how you wither and go limp in my grasp, yet your petals never fall. Resilient, like the Blackthorn you are, my sweet Violet.

I can still smell her scent all over me, soft honeysuckle and lavender wafting from my skin and clothes, and her taste still resides in my mouth and on my lips. She was so delightful just then. I loved how she came apart for me, so beautiful and so MINE. I inhale deeply once, and then exhale sharply, focusing myself.

I have work to do. My

garden is calling me, the flowers need tending, or they will never bloom again. I chuckle darkly, they will never truly bloom like they once did, but under my care, some semblance of life can be brought back to them, I am the Gardener after all. The darkness swirls around my mind, clouding my vision as I sink into the depths with my demons.

By the time I am done, the flowerbeds are thoroughly weeded and I am covered in mud and filth. Dirt is firmly embedded in the pores of my skin and under my nails, and my jeans are crusted over and totally fucking ruined. It’s been bright and warm during the days, but at night the rain has been pouring down, soaking the earth and nourishing the tiresome weeds that infest my garden.

I look up at the house, at the heavy black clouds that are looming across, smothering the sunlight that has been beating down on my back all day, and making me sweat. Luckily my hair is long enough to keep my neck covered or it would be sore by now.

I throw my tools into the rundown shed at the end of the garden, hidden by foliage from the willow that weeps over the stream that bubbles on the boundary. I pause to observe it, watching as fallen leaves slowly float past and continue downstream. Another barely-there smile touches my lips as I recall the time that this tree and stream offered me privacy when I brought the last flower down to see it, Heather did like the water…

I turn away and shield my eyes as the sun breaks through the bank of clouds, which is edging closer and getting blacker by the minute. I should head inside and shower. As much as it would be quick to just stand outside and get soaked by the approaching rain, I would rather stand under a hot shower than in a cold deluge.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, so I hustle back to the house and enter through the back door, just before the downpour begins. Quick, sudden, but satisfyingly predictable. I’m used to the abrupt change in the weather we have here. I move to close the door, glancing once more at the tree, and then sliding my eyes over to look at the patch of freshly dug earth with a sneer. “You sure were a mouthy little bitch, and I enjoyed watching you suffocate on my dick and then the stream at the end of the garden. Heather…”

26

Violet

Once I had recovered enough to move around again, although I was still stiff and sore from when he had fucked me, I inched to the shower, feeling the need to wash him off of me, although a part of me liked the way his scent lingered on my skin, and his taste in my mouth.

“Pull yourself together Vi. Stop being ridiculous, you shouldn’t even like what he does to you.”

I shake my head, hoping to shrug off the memories, and the way I could still feel the pounding and throbbing between my legs. I was getting wet at the thought of him, the forceful way he takes what he wants, and gives me painful pleasure in return. I shudder, a sudden need overtaking me. I stand in the shower, the lukewarm water cascading down my body, the rivulets on my skin making watery tracks.

I slide my hand down my stomach to my pussy, finding that it’s wet, and not just from the water. I push between the slick folds, my juices and the water making it slippery. I bite my lip, trying and failing to suppress a groan, which bursts from my mouth. It doesn’t take much before I’m quaking and coming all over my fingers, gasping and panting out my release. “Z,” I moan as I reach climax.

As the high fades and I slowly come back down, shame and horror hit me right in the stomach, “What the fuck did I just do?”

I just got myself off while thinking about Z, the guy who is holding me captive in a locked room inside his fucking house. “Oh God,” I moan, putting my head in my hands, turning off the water and sinking to the floor of the shower.

After sitting on the tiles until my ass and legs are numb and my skin is covered in goosebumps from the cold, I drag myself up and dry off, grabbing my blanket and wrapping it tightly around myself.

I need to lie down, I feel so fucking disgusted with myself right now, and I can't bear to face my reflection in the reflective acrylic mirror. I'm scared of what I might see in my eyes if I look too closely. I move wearily over to the bed and lay down closing my eyes and trying to shut it all out. I concentrate on taking deep, even breaths until I feel myself relaxing and being claimed once again by sleep.

A blinding flash and resounding crash wake me from my fitful sleep, and I sit up disoriented, trying to work out what is happening. I hear rain thrashing at the windows and the tiles on the roof, then another flash and rumble happen in quick succession. I laugh at myself. It’s only a thunderstorm.

I kneel up on the bed and move so that I can watch it through the gap I made in the boards. I suck in a breath at the raw power and beauty of the storm raging beyond the glass. I wish I could run outside and dance in the rain, taste the water as it runs over my face, feel the breeze on my skin. I want to be out in the rain, even if it is with him.

I get up and run to the door, banging and calling for him. Something I never thought I would do, but right now I actually want him to come to me.

27

Z

I get out of the shower and hear her banging on the door and calling out for me. I look at the screens, watching her and listening to her calling out my name, wanting me.

I want her too, but I'm not going to cave to her again. I need to build up my walls. She’s started cracking them, but the foundations still hold strong. It'll be worse for her if they crumble away to dust. I will take and take until there is nothing left for her to give, and she ends up broken and ruined like the others.

A twisted part of me wants to see her broken, but I don’t want her perfection to be destroyed until she is beyond repair. I will tear her down and then nurture her right back up again, but I will do it my way. I let her call and pound until her voice is hoarse and her fists are weak and aching from her efforts before I go to her.