“Pain and suffering grants us unimaginable power.” – Notes of X
X
Tuesday, August 20th, 2013. 09:18 a.m.
The razorblade is blunt, but it’ll have to do. I’ve ordered a new one from the assistant I have here in the hotel, but she’s rather slow in getting her shopping list done. While shaving, I contemplate whether I’m going to give her another chance or kill her and get a new one. Of course she can’t quit; that would mean she could talk. Nobody talks about me. I do not exist. Therefore, they do not exist either.
When I’m done I rinse the razorblade and put it down. Noise in the bedroom alerts me. I step aside and look. Jay is still tied to the bed, and when she sees me looking, she raises a cocky eyebrow. I used a rope this time, but it seems to do the trick. She hasn’t tried to escape in a while, but I keep expecting it to happen. Having her tied up relaxes me, because I know she can’t escape and be killed. For some reason that thought angers me. I wanted her dead myself more than anything, but now that I have her, I don’t want anyone else to kill her. That right is mine alone.
Except, I don’t just want that anymore either. I want her completely. Her body. Her soul. Her mind. I want to do with it as I wish. To do the things I never could when …
I sigh. It was such a long time ago. I don’t even remember what it was like to claim her without having to chain her up. Of course, I’ve always been into the kinky stuff. She used to be into it too. If I try hard enough, she might remember and learn to appreciate it.
But the way she’s looking at me now, with annoyance and boredom, it makes me feel abominable. I am not just that monster. I’m also a man who knows someone like her needs pleasure and fun in order to feel appreciated. And when she feels appreciated, she might be more inclined to submit to me, which is all that I desire. I want to see her offer her heart to me, willingly, and for that to happen, she must crave all of me, even the blackest pits of my soul.
I smile and shake my head, stepping back to the faucet to wash my face. Soul. What a load of nonsense. As if I even have one.
All I crave is her. All I want is her, completely. I know she’s only giving it to me because her life’s on the line, but I want it to be more than that. I will make it so that she’ll only ever want me, even when she can choose not to. That even if I were to free her, she’d still come back to me, no matter what. Utter devotion.
As I lift my head the mirror is my sudden opponent. I watch the beads of water roll down my face, across the hideous mark that covers the place my real eye used to be. I’m taken aback by the confrontation. The mirror shows me the broken man I do not wish to see. The man who lost it all because of the girl in the adjacent room.
That day was detrimental. A decision that never should’ve been made. Forbidden fruits that shouldn’t have been plucked. That day I was forced to become the monster I am today.
***
Monday, January 23rd, 2009
For a month I have listened to the beeping of the machine keeping me alive. The constant sound is a painful reminder that I’m still here in this world. That everything they’ve done to me was real. That I’m really in a hospital, lying in a stone-cold bed, watching the world pass me by. I’m constantly in pain. My face burns and itches, but I can’t scratch. A bandage covers everything. I’ll never get used to this.
I’d prefer death over this place, because if there’s a hell on earth, it’s right here.
Saturday, March 28th, 2009
The doctors tell me it could take years to recover, but I don’t allow myself that much time. Even with only one eye I will make it work, somehow. I will recover quickly and reclaim what’s been taken from me: my dignity.
Today is the day they take off my bandage. The careful unwrapping makes me furious, because I’d much rather rip it off and be done with it. I want to see what’s happened. I want to see what those fuckers did to my face. When he’s finally done, I pick up the mirror on my cabinet and hold it in front of me. Terror flows through me, an inferno of rage setting my veins on fire. My eye is gone, my face destroyed. What’s left is a vicious remnant of their attack. Loose skin and horrid scars running all the way up to my skull. My hair is split in half as it no longer grows on the burned skin. All that’s left is ruin and misery.
I’ve become a monster.
I was burned to ashes, along with my soul, but I will rise and make them pay.
Friday, June 19th, 2009
It’ll take some time to get used to the fake eye they just installed. I keep looking at it in the mirror. Somehow it looks like I’m staring at a completely different person. Not just physically, but mentally too. I’ve changed. Not for the better.
I got into contact with an old partner of mine, who I know through my family: Antonio. He told me he could introduce me to the organization he works for. I’ll be an assassin for hire with them. I’ve already said I’ll do it. I want them to train me, teach me how to kill an assassin just like me. They’ll train me for years to come and I’ll earn some good money working for them. But I won’t stop until I’m the fastest, most skillful killer alive. And then I’ll murder them all.
***
Tuesday, August 20th, 2013. 09:25 a.m.
I smash the mirror to bits.
Over and over again until there is nothing left and blood seeps from my pores. I don’t feel any pain, just anger. I am wasting valuable time here. After I interrogated Al, I thought about killing the one who’s behind all this. However, I decided not to. Instead, I want to make his life miserable. And I just happen to have the perfect idea …
“What’s happening in there?” Jay yells.
I grab the trashcan and shove the pieces of the mirror inside. Then I walk out the door and show her my bloody hands. Her eyes widen.
“See this? It’s because you took the tape off the mirror,” I say.
She makes a face, riddled with guilt. Good. Guilt is the first step toward pleasing someone, and I want to be pleased badly.
“It’s quite despicable to make a man see his own scars.”
“It’s also quite despicable for you to keep me tied up.”
I smile. “Touché.”
“Even though you said I would gain more freedom if I did what you asked.”
I walk back into the bathroom and rinse my hands under the water. I think about it for a second. If I give her a reason to be more grateful and content, she might be easier to handle, which is a plus considering what I’m going to do when I have my plan ready.
I step out of the bathroom and stand in front of the bed. “All right. If you will behave I will take you to lunch.”
She tempts me with those daring eyes of hers. Crawling onto the bed, I move on top of her. Her breath falters as my lips touch her belly. My tongue darts out to trace a line all the way up to her chest. Her chest rises but doesn’t fall as I reach her tits. She’s wearing nothing but panties, and although I would love to ravage her right now, a promise is a promise. Besides, I’m getting quite hungry myself.
I raise my head to her eyelevel and lean in, licking my lip. Her eyes follow my tongue desperately. I wait, tentatively moving closer and closer, until my lips are on top of hers. My kiss is greedy, because I need to taste her. Her mouth is open, ready to receive me. Not long ago she refused to give me what was mine, but now … now she is ready. She lets my tongue in as I probe her mouth with eagerness. I lick the roof of her mouth and kiss her harder, my cock growing equally as hard.
A growling stomach interrupts us. I take my lips off hers and look into her eyes, which fill with confusion. Her desires are showing, and she hates it. A cocky smile forms on my face. I love to see it all. But then another growl follows. I’m not sure which of us it was, but it’s definitely time to grab something to eat.
Oh well, I’ll fill up her pussy some other time.
***
Jay
Tuesday, August 20th, 2013. 10:14 a.m.
I stuff the food in my mouth like a ravenous pig. I’m so freaking hungry and this sandwich isn’t enough to quell the need for food. Maybe it’s the side-effects from withdrawal, but I don’t care. Anything to get my mind off the drugs is good to me.
X smirks as he watches me eat, whilst he’s still cutting up his sandwich as if that’s the most normal thing in the world. Who the fuck cuts up a sandwich into bite-sized pieces anyway?
Not that I care. I’m already glad I have some food in my mouth and that I’m finally out of that hotel room. I was dying for some fresh air. When I first saw the sun and blue sky again I felt the urge to run and never look back, but I knew X would shoot me in an instant. He doesn’t feel for me yet, and I know he’d do anything to keep me exactly where he wants me to be, which is close to him.
I can tell from the gun he carries around everywhere he goes. It’s a silent threat, even under the table. He’d pull the trigger anytime I even tried to make a move. Screaming wouldn’t be of use either; X would kill them all. I don’t want that on my conscience.
Oh well, guess I should be happy I even got out of the hotel. It’s a good first step.
I’m in the midst of eating my sandwich when a man walks into the diner. His wild hair and scruffy beard immediately draw my attention. He throws a blunt into an ashtray on a table and walks to the cashier to make an order. He stinks of marijuana and alcohol, so I hold my breath. When he’s made his order, he turns around and waits. His eyes fall on me. I stop eating. The sandwich drops onto my plate. The man just looks at me, but my legs are shaking, my eyes widen, and my heart thumps erratically.
“What’s wrong?” X says.
My nose twitches and my lip trembles. Tears fill my eyes. X’s brows lower as he follows my eyes and looks at the man that fills my head with screams.
So many screams. Nobody could hear.
I try to push it out, but it’s no use; the memories come flooding back in. This man and his drugs; he was the one who got me to use them. The one who got me addicted. He kept taking my money, kept stuffing my hands with drugs, kept needing more, kept wanting more. Until I had nothing left to give except my body. I needed the drugs so badly … but I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my body. Not at that time. It was long ago, before I joined the club … when I was still in my teen years, wandering the streets. I don’t remember a lot about my life prior to the streets and the hustling. However, I do remember this guy who picked me up when I was low. This guy … the man who abused me and used me for his own pleasure in exchange for drugs.
I panic and shoot up from my chair.
“Sit. Down,” X commands.
I shudder as a tear runs down my cheeks. This man … his face is imprinted on my retinas. The urge to run is too strong. I scoot my chair back and step away, backing up slowly. X gets up from his chair, confusion preventing him from acting. He doesn’t get it. I don’t even get it. All I know is that I have to get away from the man at the counter.
“Get back here,” X says through gritted teeth.
“I can’t,” I say.
He comes toward me as I keep backing up, holding out his hand while the other is firmly clenched around his gun.
“I can’t be here,” I say. “Please. Don’t make me stay here with him.”
X’s eyes widen and then he looks back at the man in front of the counter, who is watching us with a suspicious eye. X glances back and forth between me and him, then grabs my arms and pushes me outside.
“You know him?” he whispers as we exit through the door. X hauls me into an alley behind the diner.
“Yes,” I say. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”
I turn my head, but X grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “Tell me what he did.”
I swallow, my voice soft and croaky when I say, “He abused me … took me against my will.”
X frowns. “What? When?”
I glance at the ground, feeling scrutinized. “Long ago. He was the one who got me drugs. After a while I couldn’t pay anymore …”
X’s face darkens, his eyes narrowing as he says, “Then we’ll make him give back what he took from you.”
***
Tuesday, August 20th, 2013. 12:00 a.m.
I’m staring at the worst scum on this earth. This piece of shit defiled my body. He’s tied to a chair in a warehouse on the other side of town. X managed to put something in his drink that made him sleepy. Before he passed out, he told the diner manager he knew the guy and would take him to a bus stop. Of course he didn’t. He’s here now, and will be punished for what he did to me.
X steps aside when he’s done tying him up. The man screams his lungs out, but the sound doesn’t penetrate the cloth stuffed in his mouth. Seeing him like this makes my blood boil. Crazy thoughts run through my head now that he’s unable to move. Thoughts about cutting him up and taking from him what he stuck inside me. Vicious, murderous thoughts.
It’s wrong. This is not me. I don’t want to be like that.
X walks toward me, his eye glistening with joy. A gratifying smile rests on his lips. He rummages in his pocket and takes out a knife, flipping it open. “I carry this one around all the time, just for occasions such as these.”
He holds it out to me. I stare at it, wondering what to do. One part of me wants to take the knife and ram it in the man who sits in front of me. The other part wants to use it to threaten X and run away forever. Sweat drips roll down my forehead. What do I really want?
Taking my hand, X puts the knife inside and closes it. It’s heavy and full of implications. I don’t move. I can’t. X walks around me and places his hands on my shoulders. His warm breath tickles my ear. “Look at him.”
My eyes dart from the knife toward the man screaming in the chair. The scruffy, red-eyed, broken-toothed man sitting in front of me. I see the things he did to me, over and over again.
“You hate him so much, don’t you?”
I nod.
“Hate gives us power, you know,” X continues. “Hate makes us strong and invulnerable. Hate gives us a goal. Hate is what you use to get what you want,” he lisps. “And you want to punish him.”
X’s fingers dig into my shoulders. His words are like poison seeping into my brain, consuming me. I look down at the blade. It’s trembling in my hand.
“You want to slice him up, and make him pay for what he’s done to you. The son of a bitch deserves it, doesn’t he?”
“Yes … but I can’t,” I mutter. The words get stuck in my throat.
“Don’t let the fear take control,” he whispers. “Take the reins.”
The knife drops from my hand. Bile rises in my throat. “I can’t cut him up.”
“Then what do you want, hmm?” he asks, looking over my shoulder. “Do you want him to pay or not?”
“Yes …” The word comes out in a single breath. The man screams inaudible words, but I know it’s because he heard me say yes. The look in his eyes tells me he remembers what he did all those years ago. He knows what’s coming for him.
X takes his hands off my shoulders. The sound of metal being pulled out of leather rings through my ears. When X’s hand reaches forward to show me the gun, I hold my breath. He takes my hand and places the gun inside. Turning my hand to the side so the gun is aimed at the man in front of me, he lifts my arm and leans his head on my shoulder.
“Do you want this, little bird?”
I gasp, not knowing what to say. A part of me desperately wants this to end. Another part screams to pull the trigger.
“There’s a bullet in there that’ll go straight into his heart if you’ll allow it. He’ll be gone from this planet.”
“But … I don’t know.”
“You do.” X puts my fingers on the trigger. “You know how to use a gun.”
He helps me aim. Sweat beads roll down my face as I face the man who used me. He’s begging me with his eyes not to do it, shaking his head. He whimpers, but I feel no pity. Not for him. In full force the memories of what he did to me flood back in. Pain, so much pain. Not just physically, but mentally too. I was torn apart. A girl used and abused on the streets. He took advantage of me. He made me feel like shit, and I remember all of it. It hurts. He deserves nothing less than the same. I want him to feel it.
X pushes down on my finger. “Kill him. End your suffering.”
My fingers do the rest.
Bam. The gun fires. One shot, right through the head. His eyes turn blank, his head drops to the side. Blood seeps from the wound between his eyes. And then it’s done. It’s over. He’s gone. My mind and body are set free from this nightmare he placed upon me.
My hands are shaking as X pries my fingers loose and takes back the gun. I’m still gutted by what just happened. Not just because of meeting this man again. Not because of all the things he did to me. It’s because he’s dead now, and I was the cause of it.
“I’ve never killed someone,” I mutter.
X smiles, stifling a laugh. “Now you have.”
