Playette

“No.” My father screams dropping to the floor, touching her face, which isn’t moving.

“Kid, run.” I’m pushed as another loud bang sounds.

I don’t know what to do.

My legs still have blood on them, there’s fresh clothes in my hands and they stay there as I start to move.

My eyes spring open and I can’t help the tears that leave them as they fall freely down my cheeks remembering that day, the worst of my life. My parents loved each other more than I could ever dream of. They loved me with a fierceness that I’m afraid I will never experience again.

It breaks my heart.

All over again.

Every time I think of them, my heart shatters a little more.

“Your tears are like music to my soul. I want them all the time.” Jasper sits on the floor, against the door with his knees up, as he watches me.

“Why am I waking up?” I ask, not even bothering to make an excuse for the fact that I’m crying.

“Because I choose it.”

“Just do it already. What pleasure do you get from this?” I ask, waiting for him to tell me why.

He pushes up from his seated position, and turns to walk out the door. “I’m still trying to work myself up to it, Isadora. Killing you is proving to be harder than I thought, and it won’t be one of my finer moments,” he says as he walks out. His words hurt, more than they should. I should have been easy to kill, he should have been easy to kill. But our emotions have come into play, and no matter how much I try to deny all of them, they are there and evident. Now, if I could only slow my pounding heart when he enters a room, or dry my hands, sweaty with the need to touch him, this could be so much easier.

19

Jasper

Have you seen an angel sleep? I have, and what a fucking angel she is.

I came into the room with a purpose in mind—to kill her.

It’s an easy task. I’ve killed people as easily as I breathe. It’s natural to me. It is, after all, what my father taught me to do. Who he wanted me to be.

I’m exactly what my mother beat into me.

When I walk back into the room she’s asleep again. Isadora’s tears are dried on her cheeks as I sit down next to her. Running my hand down her bare leg, I start to untie her one leg at a time. When she’s free, I lift and carry her to my father’s bathroom, turning the shower on and placing her on the floor. She wakes as I climb in fully clothed and sit behind her, holding her to me. When she starts to move, my arms lock firmly around her body.

“I need to pee,” she states.

“Pee then. The shower will wash it away.”

Her body relaxes into mine as the water becomes warmer. I push her hair back and kiss her neck until she falls into me.

“I still hate you,” she says.

“I know,” I reply. “I know.”

Tears fall freely now.

Reaching for the shampoo I start to wash her hair as she lays back on my chest and then rinse it out. She stays where she is not moving. Grabbing the loofah, I wash her body, around her tits and down to her pussy until she’s all clean and smelling like magnolia blossoms.

“She would tie me up, in her bathroom… and whip the fuck out of me as if I was a damn toy. With a bottle of wine in her hand and a whip in the other. Her father was a master with the whip and taught her how to use it effectively. She was brilliant… in so many ways,” I tell her then kiss her neck.

“How can you say that?”

I shrug. “Sometimes you have to look beyond the hurt to see something else. I saw it in her. Always did, even on that fateful day.”

“I watched my mother die in front of me. I wasn’t meant to, I don’t think,” she tells me, but I already know her story. However, I’ll let her tell me anyway.

“Maybe you weren’t meant to,” I tell her. “Maybe that’s what made you the woman you are today? You needed that strength, and that strength came from witnessing what happened to your family.”

Her head starts shaking back and forth. “No, I don’t believe you. Watching the people you love be murdered… ah fuck! The hurt does nothing but break your soul and tear your heart into pieces.” Isadora pushes up and away from me, she’s standing looking down at me while I’m still fully clothed. “You’re incapable of love. And that’s not your fault, Jasper. That shit’s the fault of your mother not showing you how love is meant to be.” She takes a deep breath and her tits rise as she does. “My mother showed me what love is. I was given that and more, but it was violently taken from me.” She steps out of the shower, as if I’ve given her permission to do so.