Flower in the Dark

44

Z

My arm is raised and poised to strike, but I'm frozen, and I can't bring it down. I can't fucking do it. Violet, my little flower, she is my damn weakness, and I need to end her life, but I can't.

Anger and want are tearing through my mind like a hurricane, destroying everything, and in the debris all I can see is her. I look at the face of my little flower. Her eyes are wide and frightened but resigned to her fate. I squeeze the handle so tightly that I feel the skin on my palm split and blood starts to run down the blade, dripping onto her fair skin, marking and staining her with my blood.

I take a deep and shuddering breath, feeling my resolve wavering. I lower the knife a fraction, watching Violet closely. She inhales, holding it, no doubt wondering what will be next. I let out a shout of frustration and anger, and hurl the knife across the room where it sticks in the wall, right down to the hilt. We both follow the knife's progress and then look back at each other. I'm breathing hard again, and my blood feels like it's burning in my veins.

My eyes narrow on the woman beneath me, Violet. Her face is pale and her cheeks are still damp with our mixed tears. I lean forward and lick the tears from her cheeks, the sharp intake of breath pushes her chest up and her tits lightly brush against my chest.

“I want to fucking hurt you. I want to paint your skin crimson and see you as a cold flower, pale and bleeding beneath me. But I can’t. I can’t bring myself to fucking end you,” I whisper against her cheek, my lips teasing the edge of her jaw.

“So don’t do it. Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me Z,” She cries softly.

&nb

sp; “I promise not to kill you, but I can’t promise that I won’t ever hurt you,” I admit.

She's shaking, her emotions are all over the place, confusion, fear, desire, and fuck knows what else all flash across her face one after the other, making it impossible to read her. I would ask her what was wrong, but considering what I nearly did, I'd be better off letting her kick me in the balls than ask such a fucking ridiculous question.

I move from on top of her and sit on the edge of the bed, putting my face in my hands, pulling on my hair. She puts her hand on my shoulder, and I shrug it off, not wanting her to touch me. She shouldn't want to touch me after what I nearly did and wanted to do. She puts it back, and I shrug it off more violently this time. When she puts it there for the third time, I snap and throw it off, following it around and pinning her down by the wrists.

“Are you trying to fucking push me right now Violet? I demand roughly, my voice low and angry.

“No, I’m trying to fucking tell you I’m not afraid right now,” she answers back, defiance all over her delicate features.

"Well, you should be. You should always be afraid of what lurks beneath the surface. I am not kind. I am not gentle. I will hurt you, bruise you, and take what I want. You are mine!" I bite out, my fingers digging into her soft skin and probably leaving the bruises I just warned her about.

But I don’t care, because I want Violet painted with my marks. I want my bites on her neck, fingerprints on her hips, and my fucking cum all over and inside of her body.

I want to claim this woman and make her mine in every way I can, over and over again. I will take, I will mark, I will claim.

45

Violet

The pressure of his fingers on my skin is borderline painful, but I am still here and still alive. He is right here in front of me, and I don’t think I can let this go, let him go. My eyes retrace the journey of the knife, noting its placement in the plaster. He doesn’t miss this, and his hand finds my throat, squeezing gently, not to hurt me, but to threaten.

“Don’t you even think about fucking trying it,” He hisses at me.

My eyes dart back to him. His black eyes are narrowed and his face is contorted with a quiet fury that is slowly building.

My blood runs cold when he squeezes a little tighter, limiting my supply of oxygen. I start to struggle beneath him, trying to free my hands from his grasp. My vision is starting to blacken, and when I go slightly limp he loosens his hold on my throat. I gasp and sputter, inhaling huge gulps of air. He doesn’t even shift an inch, just watches me with those cold, empty eyes. Any hint of feeling that I had seen lingering in the depths is noticeably absent.

“Such a pretty flower, pinned and helpless, trapped like a butterfly underneath a glass,” He sneers down at me, his voice strangely calm as though merely observing, rather than being the cause.

His demeanor is totally different. I feel like I’ve unlocked the door to a stranger, one who is more than capable of hurting me, even killing me. Despite what he promised only moments ago, that he would never take my life.

The uncertainty that is swirling through me turns my stomach, cramping inside me, and an insane idea hits me.

"Z, I think I'm coming on my period, can you buy me some feminine products when you go out next?" I ask, making sure to keep my voice light and even, trying to diffuse the tension that is filling the room like smog. Much to my complete surprise, it seems to work.

"What?" Z says, snapping back to his normal arrogant, but distant self, an expression of mild horror his face.

I reiterate my request, “I need sanitary pads and…”

He cuts me off with a shudder, letting go of me. “Right, okay then. Got it, lady stuff.”