Beneath This Man (This Man 2)

Another thrash connects with my back and I jerk again, my back arching, my head flying back.

‘NOOOOOOOOO!’

The roar I know so well snaps me to the here and now as another burning snap spreads across my back. I buck in shock, the metal restraints clanking loudly above my head. I can’t open my eyes. My head is heavy, my body lifeless and my arms are lacking any blood and feeling in them.

‘Jesus! Ava, no!’ His voice is loud but broken. My body starts swinging slightly, and I feel his warm hands all over me. ‘John, release her hands! Oh, God, no, no, no, no, no, no!’

‘Mother f**ker!’

‘John, f**king hell, get her down! Ava?’ He sounds terrified. I’m grabbed and stroked all over as I feel the tampering of big, clumsy hands on mine above my head. My arms fall down like lead. I’m limp in his arms. ‘Ava? Oh God, please! Ava?’ I’m vaguely aware of being moved.

And then the pain kicks in.

Oh good God!

My flesh feels like it’s on fire, pain emanating from every single nerve ending across my back and beyond. I’m being shuffled about and I can’t even speak to tell him to stop. I’ve never felt pain like it.

‘Don’t let him go anywhere!’ Jesse’s voice is muffled, but I know who he is talking about and through my haze, I realise that I’ve probably just sent Steve to his death.

I need to stop that. I asked him to do this, although I’m wondering why the hell I did right now. I really am completely crazy, but then I remind myself of the reasons behind this. He might not be so willing to do this to himself if he is faced with me following suit. But will he have a drink, or will he get himself whipped again, anyway? God, I hope not. I don’t think I could do this again. Through my dazed state, I realise I might have just started a really big, vicious circle of punishments. Should I have done this?

My crazy side and my sane side are having an argument in my head, and I can hear Jesse’s thundering footsteps and many shocked gasps as I’m carried through The Manor.

‘What the f**k!’ Kate’s shocked voice is distant. ‘Jesse?’

He doesn’t answer. All I hear is John’s low rumble fading into the background along with all the commotion that I have caused. I don’t care. A door slams and a few moments later, I feel the sofa beneath his thighs as I’m cradled in his lap.

‘You stupid, stupid girl.’ he sobs on a cracked voice. I feel him buried in my neck, inhaling into my hair and frantically stroking my head. ‘You crazy, stupid girl.’

I drag my eyes open and stare blankly forward across his chest. I’m in so much pain, but I have no desire to move or voice my discomfort. I feel sedated, like I’m floating on the outside, observing this shocking scene from afar. What if my attempts to make Jesse see my point of view fail? What if he does punish himself again? I couldn’t bear to go through this again and not just because I’m in absolute agony – I couldn’t bear to see Jesse on his knees, accepting lashes dished out by Sarah or by anyone, for that matter. Not that I’m ever going to be able to scrub that image from my mind. It will be etched on my brain for as long as I live. Nothing will wipe it away. Nothing.

I don’t know how long we sit in silence; me staring into the distance, completely detached from the circumstances, and Jesse sobbing into my hair. It feels like hours, maybe longer. I’ve lost all sense of time and realism.

The door knocks.

‘What?’ Jesse’s voice is fragmented and low, and he sniffs a few times.

The door opens, but I don’t know who it is. My eyes have been staring into space for such a long time, I think they may have set in place. I hear some movement close by and something being put on the table in front of us, but whoever it is doesn’t speak. They leave just as quietly, the office door shutting almost silently.

Jesse moves ever so slightly under me, and I inhale on a sharp, painful hiss. He stills. ‘Oh, Jesus.’ He sounds fraught. ‘Baby, I need to move you, I need to see your back.’

I shake my head mildly and press my face into his bare chest. It’s going to hurt like hell when he moves me. I want to delay it for as long as possible. I’m not ignorant to the fact that his own back is a blooded mess and he’s leaning back on the sofa with me on his lap pressing into him. He must be in some serious pain himself. What a pair of crazy arse, challenging freaks we are.

He sighs and rests his chin on the top of my head. ‘Why?’ he croaks, kissing my head. ‘I don’t understand.’

If I could talk, I would be throwing that right back at him. Why exactly?

‘Ava, I need to see your back.’ He makes to move again and pain slices through me. I clench my dry eyes shut and let him move me until I’m sitting up on his lap.

The gravity smacks right into my stomach and I’m suddenly heaving, my stomach convulsing, my body jerking, which only serves to increase the pain further. I double over on his lap.

‘Oh God!’ He places his hand on my back in an instinctive move to soothe me while my stomach decides if there’s anything left inside me to bring up. The hot contact of his hand has me jolting forward on a cry and my stomach deciding that yes, there is something left to evacuate.

I throw up all over the floor.

‘Shit! Ava, I’m sorry. Oh, f**k!’ He pulls my hair from my face and tentatively moves to get better access to me. ‘Fuck! Fuck, f**k, f**k. Ava, what have you done?’ His traumatised voice tells me he has just copped a load of my back. It must look as bad as it feels. I’m desperately trying to get a handle of my retching in an attempt to minimise the pain. ‘I’m going to move you now, okay?’ He grasps me under my arms and stands. I cry out. ‘I can’t lift you without touching you.’ He grunts a few frustrated curses as he tries to maneuver me to the other couch without catching my back.