Black Iris

United front.

Merry Christmas ya filthy animals!!!

Iris

The week before the trial began, I was back living with Blake, as I'd never truly left. He was highly strung and angry, and taking all his frustration out on me.

He had already been giving me 'treatment' almost every day, punishing me for minor transgressions or things he straight up made up.

He didn't hit my arms, though. Nowhere anyone could see. He couldn't risk anyone noticing anything in the trial, the media catching sight of a bruise on my arms or throat.

So it was other forms of punishment.

Servicing him from under his desk during work hours.

Hitting my stomach, where no one would be able to see.

Torturing me with clips and weights.

Forcing my mouth open with horrid and uncomfortable devices and making me cry from humiliation.

At one point, he shattered a wine glass on the floor, just to watch me clean it up nude, and the memory of doing the exact same thing when he was tormenting Ophelia made my skin crawl.

Ophelia.

God, I missed her.

It had been over two weeks since she came to my apartment that night, and I thought about her often. I wondered if I'd gone too far, probed too hard. If I was the reason she had to go through this trial.

I had grown complacent, forgetting everything I did to her.

Everything from drawing her away from the target building that fateful day, to holding her head under that water.

Fuck, I hated myself for it. For all of it.

Which was why I continued to let Blake take his frustration out on me. Because I deserved it. All the pain he gave me.

Which was why I was so shocked when on Saturday, he refused to hit me.

"No, my Iris," he said, when I presented myself on my knees around midday, after he had cried out in frustration from the case files he was combing through.

I frowned, confused. "Sir?"

"I'm not hitting you right now. I have things to do. Though, I wouldn't mind going out this evening, taking my mind off this shit. How does that sound?"

The thought terrified me. But I just quietly nodded.

He hummed. "Good. Now, go do some work. You need to know this case as much as I do. I can't have you blurting out something untrue when you're put on the stand."

I quickly shook my head. "I won't, sir. I wouldn't betray you like that. We're connected, aren't we?"

He paused, looking across at me. "Glad to hear your training is finally sinking in, Iris."

I had to stop myself from cringing. Instead, I ducked my head and left his office.

I returned to my own stack of files and folders and absentmindedly combed through them. In truth, I wasn't reading a single word. Instead, I was thinking about Blake, and Ophelia, and the sickening loop I was trapped in. I couldn't distinguish what was me and what was him, how much of this I was doing for him and how much I was trying to help her. I wanted to help her. I wanted to take Blake down. But he was messing with my head, with my body, making me think differently. I couldn't think clearly.