-includes stories containing supernatural beings, monsters, demons, ghosts and so on..
my tumblr: thedarkestriversnymph
warning: may contain triggering/sensitive content such as violence, mentions of blood, gore, depictions of unhealthy attachment...
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Oppression.
—that's what he felt like. Bitter and rotten; a foul piece shoved into your mouth forcefully with the threat of death by strangling hands if you didn't swallow.
Life was a daze. Of the worst kind—with days fleeting and fading, seasons morphing and changing, yet you remained chained in the same rusty shackles, binding you to a fate you had tried to outrun once only to permanently face the consequences. The whispers never stopped nagging at you, tugging and pulling you in all kind of directions, wishing to manipulate you, to possess your sanity in the dark of the night to drive you to rip free of your restraints, to smash the lock that kept you in place and run away without ever looking back again.
Except if the key to end all your suffering was a breathing, living bundle huddled up against your chest, that needed love and care, but also money, it was a different story. This being was what kept you trapped in a glided cage of gold. You could never abandon a part of your flesh and he knew, the shadow flitting over your form knew, he possessed you afterall, had driven himself into the most concealed and treasured parts of your soul vigorously, relentlessly until he could proudly claim to forsee your every move and slipped whisper.
"—isn't she the cutest?" he would breathe against your skin, scorching hot, as if flames were mounting eagerly, racing against eachother to claim you as their victim. "Just like her mother." he then would always coo, curling a possessive arm around your waist to secure his ownership. Honey sweet praises and empty promises were all that left his mouth; luring you to momentarily fall for a sweet illusion of normalcy and safety, almost forgetting your worries. Almost. Because he was a creature of the night, a man birthed from nightmares alone—your cursed fate and now the father of three of your children. The pretty collar called necklace, a very misleading name, was now a permanent accessory and freedom a word that tasted funny on your tongue—for you would never feel it caress your cheek and soothe your aches ever again.
For you were cursed. Cursed to forever remain shackled to the beast that had consumed your individual identity reducing you to bits and pieces, even you yourself didn't recognise anymore. You were a broken puzzle, incomplete with stains—splatters of colours and children scribbles with permanent markers—something you didn't know anymore, that you feared to get to know.
"Love" the devil called out for you, startling you from the nice silence that would settle, brushing a hand over your side to coerce your trained muscles into the familiar dance, warming, melting, slickening. It was vile to be betrayed by your own body like that, for it to crave what the mind loathed; what a perverse joke.
"—How were the kids? Any troubles? Missed me?" his breath tickled the shell of your ear. Eyes hungry as ever, as he regarded you with the same ferociousness that he shown years ago. "They were good." you were short, more troubled by your own flesh's carnal wiring than interacting with him. However—somewhere far in the back of your mind, you knew that he didn't like it whenever you were scarce of words—or perhaps he did, he enjoyed reading you like an open book, tracing the lines of your face like printed words, relishing in the barren state of your soul.
"Baby—" his breath chilled you*, "*be honest with me. Something wrong? You look troubled." You felt his fingers dig between your brows softly rubbing circles into the same spot as he loomed over you—like a wolf ready to swallow a lamb.
The food quietly sizzling was now the least of your worries, as the aroma wafted through the kitchen—which by the way was so expensive your old apartment's entire worth couldn't duel with it. Ah, your old life. The times when you were still you, not this fake, superficial, ditsy, cheap abomination of a glorified and romanticised sex doll—
"Baby, focus." you felt fingers clamp down on your cheeks, gripping so tightly you swore you felt the pain travel down your throat and settle in your lungs.
"Sorry" it was a short apology, with your eyes wide and filled with respect that had been whipped into you, as trepidation curled up your spine to squeeze your heart.
"It's okay." he smiled—which was so very misleading. Usually a smile was something soft, hinting at something human, but not with the devil. The devil only smiled when he wished to—he didn't have to have a reason for smiling, he just did, he smiled to scare and intimidate, as a warning.
And you should have known by now that the devil would never just accept one of your wrongdoings. So slipping his hands further downwards to grasp and caress the fragile muscles and bones connecting your mind and body—his grin stretching until it disoriented into a crazed delirium he snapped.
Air was was now as scarce as your words had been. His hands were the enemy, the fiend that would always betray you and as he strangled you once again, you let tears slip, crying not at the burning in your throat or at the marks that soon would blossom—but at the pitiful state the fragmented you was in.
"—stay with me. C'mon, try to fight f'me? For the kids—whatever you prefer, really. Just stay." he chuckled, scarring your battered heart further.
Evil was in his glaring browns, something animalistic taking ahold of him, as the monster took shape and form in front of your blurred gaze, two horns spreading from his scalp like budding roses.
"You're mine. Mine, all mine. Hah. You know that you're mine, mine to love, to use, to kill, to—" he gasped for air, perfectly slicked back curls scattering, "Don't test my patience. Don't even think about trying to escape. You know I will do it."
The aroma of the meal wafted through the air, the sizzling quiet and simultaneously loud. Your head pulsed in hot pain, fingers instinctively clawing at his hands to beg for a release you didn't wish for anymore. Even as your eyes threatened to flutter shut and you felt his trembling arms engulf your numbed limbs, you just couldn't bring yourself to worry.
Not anymore, not when the chains called your children were his spawns, the ones he threatened you with, always, every day, relentlessly. Not when death was the gentle embrace your heart throbbed for. Not when all your dreams had shattered and had grind to dust. Not when he had so thoroughly destroyed your core—that there was nothing left of the real you anymore, nothing left of a person, just a mindless doll.
"I am sorry" he sobbed, and now you felt even more suffocated, as your oppressor continued his reign over you. No matter how sweet the scent of boiled meat mixed with vegetables might have been—all you could taste was bitter regret at letting death flee your grasp.
"I am sorry"—well you were truly and unbashedly sorry, for ever being born.
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