Cicatriphilia

Story 1: Pain & Pleasure.

Pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin.

It's like love and hate or black and white.

One cannot be without the other. Without one you cannot have the other. One is born from the other.

It's a conundrum which has plagued human nature and the philosophy of it all; a statement that varies from person to person.

Angela has this obsession with destroying her body through lacerations.

It's a way of distracting herself, a release from stress, sadness, dread, misery, anger, rage - pain.

It's also her form of pleasure; a certain kind of pleasure, something almost akin to arousal, but not quite. It was just easier to explain by saying, 'being the masochist she is, Angela would be lying if she said she didn't get off on it, ' for anyone who would ask her or.. anyone she was comfortable and trusting enough to answer (more than likely, that will never happen). 

It's a typical 'dirty little secret' most with a fragile, shattered mind often have and, with Angela, she's slowly inching her way to taking it to the extreme. Maybe she already has...

Recently, she came across a shop near the outskirts of town. It was during one of those nights where she wasn't in the best mood and she wasn't in the greatest mindset - she wasn't feeling herself, as most would commonly put it.

It was one of those spiritual, wiccan-like shops which carried crystals, oils, and all things of that nature. It didn't have the color-changing LED mood lights and it didn't have the night sky or witch-like tapestries hanging on the walls. It was illuminated by candles, had the aroma of spices which reminded Angela of something seductive or passionate, and there were a lot of feathers around the small shop.

It didn't seem like a store many have come around before, but the owner seemed calm as ever and knew she was a newcomer from the way she simply smiled at her and gently greeted her. "Take your time. Look around. If you have any questions, I'm here to answer them." She said, then went back to her book.

Angela wasn't sure where to start. There were a lot of things that caught her eye, a lot of things she hadn't seen before - small statues, crystals and stones with weird patterns and unfamiliar symbols carved in, candles with just logos and no words or names on it. Then she saw a section filled with potions and elixirs. Curious, she takes a look around. 

There were a bunch of different bottles and jars in a variety of shapes holding different colored liquids. Tags were attached to the cork lids listing all the ingredients the liquids contained.

The Lady watched Angela keenly at the corner of her eye.

Angela skimmed through the shelves, occasionally picking one up and taking a closer look at it, before putting it back on the shelf. They all looked intriguing to Angela, certain liquids sparkling in the light while others had a nice aroma to it. Angela stops at one bottle; it was neatly wrapped with a ribbon around the lid. The liquid was a deep red and it smelled of fresh roses.

Angela picks it up and takes a look at the tag: rose water, rose petals, stems, thorns, 'healing serum,' and cherry flavoring. The bottle was the size of a water bottle, and despite its dark red color, the liquid is clear.

"It's a painkiller." The Lady said. Angela glances at her, then at the potion.

It was stupid what she was gonna say, but she couldn't think of any other ways to say it. "...Like ibuprofen?" She asked.

The lady laughed and nodded. "Yes, but stronger."

Angela raised an eyebrow. "How strong are we talking?"

The Lady's smile widens and she closes her book. "You can have your leg cut off and you will feel absolutely nothing after drinking that. In fact..." She places her book down. "It's supposed to help increase your pain tolerance."

Angela purses her lips. Oh, it was definitely shady, very shady, obviously so. At the same time, she had to admit, the place looks interesting. For all she knows, it's probably just a knick-knack shop and she just bought a potion of water with food-coloring.

Angela looks around the bottle for a price tag; three dollars. She blinks then shrugs and takes it to the counter. The Lady smiles. "Just one?" Angela nods. "Just one." She gives her the exact amount, the Lady places it in a fancy box then bids her a good night.

When Angela got home, it was about six in the morning. The house was quiet and everyone was asleep, so she made sure not to make too much noise as she walked into her room, carefully closing the door.

She places her keys in her drawer, sets her shoes in her closet, hangs her jacket then takes a seat at her desk, placing the box in front of her.

She carefully opens it, unfolding the top which the Lady had skillfully done, then dips her hand in and picks up the bottle, putting it down in front of her and stares at it.

Part of her wants to drink it then do it, or should she do it first then drink it? Would it make a difference? Does it even matter? Angela huffs, and places it back in the box. She decides she'll do it tomorrow morning when she gets off from work.

Angela hides it away in her closet, in the same bag where her toy is, then changes into her sleepwear.

The curiosity quickly falls to the back of her mind. Angela moves on her stomach, slipping her arms under her pillow. A sharp pain pokes at her stomach and she winces.

Instantly, she's reminded of the breakdown she had earlier last night. Angela doesn't even remember what she was crying about, just that she was angry, then relieved once she did the deed.

Angela scolds herself for half-assing cleaning the wound, but at this point, she was sleepy and she can always fix it when she wakes up, everyone will be out of the house by then.

Sinking into the fluffy pillows, she closes her eyes and slows her breathing, her mind emptying all thought, letting her muscles relax, then drift into a deep sleep.