Unnatural Instinct: Free

29.

Numb.

That's the best word to describe yourself. It's all you have room to feel now. There is more to you, somewhere deep down inside: sadness, rage, despair. It's like a lake, the water that ebbs and ripples. At least there's movement there. At least there's life.

Otherwise, you're dead. You're a walking skeleton. After what the leaders put you through for those two weeks, the torture and humiliation and degrading, soul-destroying whispers, you're like a walking husk.

But the lake—the lake is still there, waiting to spill its banks.

Sometimes you touch it. You dip your toes into it, and just for a flicker of a moment, all your thoughts and emotions and dreams come rushing back. It's so overwhelming that you struggle not to burst into tears.

But it doesn't lost long. Those poisonous words, those terrible tortures, the leaders' compassionless eyes—they press down on you like a heavy weight, squashing out of you any semblance of what you once were.

Some of them smiled. One of them even laughed, even as you screamed and cried and begged. You can still hear that laughter, like a ringing in your head. As for their words—you've forgotten them, thankfully, though they've somehow buried themselves somewhere deep down in your soul, like wooden stakes you can't wrench free. Forever a pain. Forever an ache. Those words—those feelings. Is this what happened to Wanda?

How you ache.

You're a good woman now, as they told you to be. You're doing a good job. You're quiet and content and helpful. You do everything someone asks of you. And most of all—Derrick is happy. That's your job now, to make him happy. You should be happy you're making him happy, but you can't. Not quite.

You're not completely dead ... not yet.

But you are fading. Fading away into nothing. What happens when you vanish? Will you know anything at all? Will that lake dry up? Will you finally just completely and utterly accept your lot in life? Perhaps you'll even be happy.

You don't know how long you've been standing at the window for, gazing towards the shelter and the forest. They mean something to you. Looking at them makes you feel just that little bit, something more than just the numbness. You don't even have to dip your toes in; the water reaches out for you, lapping at your feet.

You try to remember his name. You try to remember who he was. A bat takes off from a tree, squawking loudly in the quietness of the night. It strikes something in you. Just for a moment it makes your heart leap. Gripping the window ledge, you strain your mind, trying desperately to grip onto a tendril of memory, now lost amid the numbness. Then the bat disappears and all you can do is stare in confusion.

Laughter. Screaming. You rub your foot against your ankle as you press your lips tightly together. Please, stop. Please leave me alone.

Corruption.

You are corrupted, befouled and unworthy. A woman. Unclean. A lowly, sinful woman. Nothing could be worse.

You turn at the feel of a heavy, warm hand on your shoulder. It doesn't surprise you. Few things surprise you in your numbness. Your body reacts automatically, like a machine. Smile. Bob your head. Lower your eyes. He must only see your contentment. You must do a good job.

You must do a good job.

'Are you coming to bed?' Derrick says. He's wearing only his pyjama pants. His golden hair flows over his broad shoulders, turned blue in the moonlight.

You nod and make towards the bed, but he stops you with a soft hand against your cheek. 'Tell me what's wrong.'

'Nothing's wrong. I am content.'

He frowns as his eyes dart between yours. You lower them again.

'No,' he says. 'Look at me.'

Your raise them back to his.

Gazing at you, he smooths his thumb across your lips. He grips both your shoulders as he frowns more deeply. 'You're sad.'

That smile again; it always springs to your lips so quickly. 'No. I'm happy.'

'You've been up at the window the past three nights. What are you looking for?' He presses his lips together, his forehead crinkles up, as he looks past you into the night. 'Are you looking for him?'

Him.

'Who?'

He stares at you. Then his forehead smooths out, his lips part, and he's kissing you softly on the mouth. 'Come to bed.'

You obey, letting him drag you gently back. He lowers you onto the bed. You smile up at him as he crawls over you. His mouth is back against yours as he fumbles with his pants. Then he's pulling your nightie up to your waist and slipping your underwear off. Like a good wife, you spread your legs.

Nestling in between them, he nuzzles your neck as he gently prods the tip of his penis against you, searching for your entrance. He finds it and slides into you. He goes slowly, his lips upon your lips, his eyes gazing into yours.

The bed creaks beneath your rocking. Wind blows against the curtains. The room vanishes. The bed disappears. Derrick no longer exists as you let yourself sink to a safe place, to the waters down below. You stand, watching across its fathomless distance. The lake is so big it vanishes into the moon-lit horizon. You safely stand away from the lapping edge, refusing to get your toes wet. You don't want to feel anything, not during this.

Vaguely, you can feel Derrick picking up the pace. Vaguely, you can feel him inside you, like a distant tickle you'd rather not know about. Like a flea on your shoulder. Like a nit in your hair. Like a fly that won't stop buzzing around your head.

Finally, he finishes. You curl your toes in the sand.

Other than a sense of relief, you feel nothing. No pleasure. No disgust. Just a deep numbness which turns your body and mind cold.

Once he rolls off you, you return back to the room, though you swear you can still hear the lapping of the water against the sand.

Derrick's thick forearm is draped around your waist as he spoons you. You can feel the warm stickiness of his cock against your backside. You can feel his long, deep breaths. The bed is sticky beneath your hip. You'll have to wash the sheets tomorrow—again. He isn't asleep yet, stroking your belly button with his thumb, his chin braced atop your head. You get the feeling he wants to speak but all you want to do is sleep and get away from tonight as fast as possible.

Like every night.

You close your eyes before he can ask you anything. Sleep comes swiftly.