Moonshine

His Imagination Consuming These Flowers

He heard her murmur, "I will do whatever you say to me in the dark," the words so quiet he almost doubted he'd heard them. Her voice held an unfamiliar hollowness, a sound as if it had risen from some forgotten, unseen part of her soul. He watched her as she spoke, saw the faint tremor in her hands, the slight downward cast of her eyes. The words seemed to fall from her lips as though they were no longer her own, words spoken as if by compulsion, stripped of any real meaning. He couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps she was trying to convince herself, to meet some unspoken demand that she felt bearing down upon her, to satisfy some need that he, himself, had never even spoken aloud, but perhaps unconsciously, he demanded.

And yet, for reasons he could not fully comprehend, she seemed to surrender herself, as if, in offering this obedience, she might recover some piece of herself. It was a strange act of defiance wrapped in submission, one he neither expected nor understood. Still, perhaps, unconsciously he demanded.

But just as she reached the point of complete surrender, when she seemed ready to dissolve completely into the shadowed space between them, something shifted. He saw it in her face—a sudden coldness, a distant ache in her eyes that even he could feel. And then he knew, with startling clarity, that she was already slipping away. She was looking at him with a new understanding, a realization that struck her with such force he could almost hear her heart pounding. In that moment, she saw him, truly saw him, and he felt exposed. She had offered herself wholly, only to recognize too late that he'd never intended to catch her, that to him, she had been a prize, a conquest, something to possess but not cherish. She had given herself to his emptiness, and he had watched, expressionless, as she fell. Because, he is now aware, he demanded something without the slightest intention of returning it.

She was, he thought, beautiful in her suffering, a figure cast down toward some inevitable, unyielding end, like a lone bird falling from the sky toward the hard earth below. She was magnificent in her descent, helpless yet defiant, even as the waves below crashed against the rocks, indifferent to her final fall. Yes, he demanded that fragility. He wanted her weak and submissive.

In truth, she had been nothing but a fleeting possession to him, something he had admired only for as long as her presence had amused him. He had never seen her as his equal, nor even as a lover, merely something he could hold close for a moment to stave off his own solitude. And now, with a single gesture, he extinguished her flame, dismissing her as one discards an old garment, without thought, without ceremony. Yes, he demanded her on her knees. Damn her, so beautiful in her weakness, it's almost laughable.

He had needed her, yes. He had needed someone who could mirror his own reflection, a light that could make him seem grander in his own eyes, one that could absorb his shadows. She, so foolish, had consented. She, who once danced with freedom, had bound herself to him, a man who could not see beyond his own limitations. And when her light grew too bright, when he felt the discomfort of his own inadequacy under her gaze, he'd done what men like him do best, he had bound her.

He had cloaked her in promises and words, twisted his affection into invisible chains, so slowly and subtly that she hadn't even noticed the tightening. And in her blindness, she had allowed it, unknowingly yielding to her captivity. When at last the game grew tiresome, he'd released her without pretense, without excuse, leaving her to plummet, her wings clipped, helpless to break her fall.

If only he hadn't taken her wings, he thought fleetingly, she might have flown. But he had wanted her bound to the earth, and she, in her silent devotion, had surrendered herself to that fate. Now, as he watched her fall, a strange sense of unease crept into him. No, there was no uneasiness, he shall celebrate, because he had given her what she wanted, what she'd whispered in the darkness. Perhaps, he truly demanded her on her knees. Weak, bleeding, afraid, trapped and traumatized. He demanded, and he succeeded. She succumbed, because she wanted it, she demanded it.