Flower in the Dark

I didn’t get any sleep last night, I went back to my room and tossed and turned on my bed, unable to shut out her cries. I could have muted the speakers, but the sound of her was almost a soothing presence in the dark.

I don't feel guilty though, how could I feel guilty when she never told me no? Although once I started, I don't know that I would have been able to stop had she tried to deny me. Violet knows I enjoy her tears and cries, and I definitely enjoy her little gasps of pleasure as she comes around my fingers and cock.

Once she was soundly asleep, I slipped into her room again, listening before entering with her daily food and water. This time I carried something new into the room for her, the sketchpad and crayons. Scrawled in the top right corner of the front page I wrote a message for her:

My little flower,

I saw your pictures in the dust and thought you’d like something better for drawing. Use this as your canvas, but remember how I like to use your body as mine. -Z

A small smile lifts the corner of my mouth as I imagine how she will react to my little note. I walk away from her room, satisfied and in an unusually good mood. I go down to the kitchen and make some coffee. I might be calm for once, but I’m still fucking tired and need the caffeine boost.

I turn to the window, looking out at the garden. I heave a sigh of annoyance at the sight of the overgrown mess that it’s become. I haven’t been caring for it as I normally would. A certain flower called Violet has been keeping my attention, and I’ve been restless and antsy because of it, needing out of the house and a goddamned break from my head to fight the urges. Not that it did me any good the other night.

I punch the wall next to the window, remembering the damn mess I still have to clear up. I spot the pile of ruined clothes still sitting in the hallway where I left them last night, and sigh again. I pick them up, they’re all stiff and they fucking reek. I shove them into a sack and go out to the car, throwing it into the trunk without looking. I turn and glance up at Violet’s window. I see nothing through the wooden panels that block her view and her escape. I put the car into drive, and leave, now not looking forward to the day that looms ahead.

20

Violet

I wake with a jolt, the sound of a door slamming and then a car accelerating away from th

e house rousing me from my restless sleep. I still ache all over and feel mentally and physically drained even though I must have slept the evening and whole night through. It’s still early in the morning if the faint light filtering through the crack in the window beams is any indication.

I take in my surroundings again, as always, hoping for something different when I awake each day when something catches my eye on the table that usually only holds the food he brings me. Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders I edge over to the table, curiosity getting the better of me.

Getting closer, I see that it’s a big sketchbook and a pack of fifty colored crayons. I glance over at my dust drawings. He must have noticed them when he had brought me food and realized that I’m bored. My heart squeezes at the gesture, but my stomach sinks, because if he is bringing me things to entertain myself with, then he is probably planning to keep me here in this room. Loneliness envelopes me like a shroud, and I hug my arms tightly around my body, feeling chilled all of a sudden.

I turn my back on the table and wander into the bathroom, wanting my clothes and hoping they are dry. I don't want to feel so exposed and vulnerable right now. To my annoyance, the jeans are still really damp due to the poor ventilation. Grumbling to myself, I leave them where they are. I won't put them on because it would only make me even colder and then possibly sick.

I grab my cut up blouse, bra, and panties, relieved to feel that they are dry and quickly pull them on, feeling better almost instantly now I have some sort of clothing on. The ruined blouse hangs open, but I tie it at the bottom in an attempt to cover myself up. To cover my panties and bare legs I wrap the blanket around my hips, tying it like a wrap skirt.

Feeling a lot more human now that I’m finally somewhat dressed, I go back to the pad and pick it up, inspecting it closely. It seems to be quite high-quality paper, good for artwork. Although that isn’t really my talent, I appreciate the distraction it will bring. I open it to the first page and see a message at the top which I quickly read. My heart freezes, and the art book slips from my hands as they fly up to cover my mouth and the small sob that escapes. He has finally answered one of my pleas, to know who was holding me. He has signed the message, “Z”

The signature feels familiar, and I wrack my brain trying to recall where I have seen it before. Then it hits me like an eighteen-wheeler truck going full speed down the motorway; ShadowZ952 had always signed his messages with a simple “Z”, where I had later signed mine with a “V” to match his. I know exactly who he is now, and it fucking shatters my already fragile heart into a million crystalline pieces, and each fragment cuts even deeper into my soul. He had been my world for a while. He was someone I could turn to, and I had trusted him with secret parts of me. Then he had to go and ruin it all by doing all of this. I will never be able to forgive him.

21

Z

What a shitty fucking day, first I had that goddamned mess to clean up, which dragged me away from the house, then when I walked passed Violet’s room I see that she has shoved a note under the door addressed to me. I freeze at the sight of the paper, surprise stopping me in my tracks. I bend down and pick up the folded over paper with a crayon handwritten “Z” on the outside, I open it and curse my own damn stupidity.

Z,

FUCK. YOU!

-V.

She has figured it out then. Regret claws at my chest, not for what I had done, not for what I wanted to do to her, but for what I will do to her. Regret grips me because I have been a complete fucking idiot by revealing myself to her. She will never let me near her again. I look out the window to the garden outside. Then look away. No, I don’t want it to end, not when I’ve barely had her.

I storm down the hallway to my room, throwing the door open so savagely that the handle dents the already battered walls. It swings shut slowly. I walk across the room to sit on my desk chair, shove my hands into my hair, pulling at the strands. What the fuck am I going to do?

I glance at the monitors, noticing that she’s not on the screen. She must be in the bathroom. I see the pad lying on the floor, crayons scattered around it, and I smile for the first time since I left the house this morning. She may be fucking pissed at me right now, but at least she’s using my gift. I was hoping to slip into her again tonight, but that message tells me I should probably keep my distance.

I head to the shower to wash this fucking nightmare of a day off of my skin, wishing I had my little Violet on her knees in front of me, taking my cock in that sweet little mouth like a good girl.

Pleasure and a vision of Violet sweep over me. “You’re going to swallow my cock, little flower, I’m going to feed it to you inch by inch,” I say, edging it further into her sweet little mouth.

Her eyes are watering, lips spread wide around the length of me, all red and pouty.