The Marionette of Madness

9

(Several hours earlier in that day)

Mari held his breath as the needle pierced his skin. For as long as this deal had been going on, he still hated giving himself stitches. He took his time though, knowing what awaited him when he finished.

Now that the potion was flushed from his system and he was feeling clear-headed again, he was afraid of what the consequences might be for giving away the first vial. Whoever, whatever, those guys from the night before were, they really wanted the potion for some reason.

Mari took a break from stitching himself up to look at his wrists. His fingers traced the green veins, and he wondered if more would join them soon. They always seemed to get stronger when he was punished. With a sigh, he finished his stitches.

He looked up to see a shadowy shape looming over him.
"All done Dear?"

"Yes Mistress."
He knew better than to fight her when he was already set to be punished. Besides, he was too exhausted to come up with any clever retort.

She smiled, long white teeth showing within the inky blackness.
"Good. Now, are we sorry for what we did last night?"

He nodded, keeping his eyes down.
"Yes Mistress."

She stopped smiling.
"Liar!"

She pushed him back into the wall of the warehouse, and he felt a few bones snap. Those green ropes were back, and his hands were forced out in front of him, palms up, he was on his knees now. She ran a finger over his palms.
"How many of those memories do you have left after last time? Can you even remember your own brother's face anymore? His name? Your own name? Or are you just my precious Mari now?"

He shook his head.
"No, no, I have a name. My name is Dawson, my brother's name is James."
He forced the words out, unsure if they were true anymore. His memories were so fuzzy now.

She tutted playfully, running a finger down Mari's, Dawson's, cheek now.
"We'll fix that soon my dear."

The pain started now, like the shackles on his wrists and neck were full of needles, administering whatever it was that made his veins run green. He would say it was to potion again, but it didn't feel the same. This substance didn't bring the cloudy euphoria or obedience, just pain. Every nerve was on fire.

"We won't be doing that again, will we?"

Dawson couldn't force himself to respond, he tried to focus on keeping his mind in one piece.

She didn't like that. She pulled hard on the string attached to his neck, jerking him forward.
"I asked you a question! Answer me Mari!"

He shook his head, finding the will to speak.
"That's not my name."
It was more a sob than a statement.

The shackles tightened, and Dawson felt whatever the green substance was moving through his veins, burning like lava.

"You know I hate to repeat myself my dear. Now, tell you won't do it again!"

"No Mistress Carmilla. I won't do it again, I swear. Please, make it stop."

She smiled again, and released her hold on Dawson, he collapsed to the ground, holding himself in the fetal position.
"Good, your little decision may have granted an old enemy of mine an unfortunate advantage. Rest up Mari, we're going monster hunting tonight."

Mari shook as the pain flushed from his body. He watched as the green veins climbed farther up his arms, and tried to count what memories he had left.

"I made this deal to save my brother James. He's probably 13 years old by now. I'm 21 years old. My name is..."

His voice trailed off, and he realized which memory she took from him this time. She took his name. He didn't feel sad over this fact, more empty, like it was never there in the first place.

At least she left him the memory of his brother. That was something.

"My name is Mari."