ChapStick (ManxBoy)

Chapter 3 - Blood roses

Chapter 3 – Blood roses

Chapter Music – The Gates of Hell from the Bayonetta Soundtrack

“Oooomff,” ski-mask guy huffed as he laid me on the bed. My weight might’ve pulled him because he bucked and collapsed on top of me. Was I that heavy? I flinched as pain registered to parts of my body that were battered and bruised. His weight over mine was quite overwhelming.

He looked away the instant my eyes met his. He retracted from the bed, stood up, and faced the wall behind him. What was going through his mind was beyond me. Wait, did he like me? I had read somewhere that captives develop feelings for their abductors. I guess this was the opposite.

I felt like a ragdoll, and must have looked like one too, as I lay sideways with my left arm draped over my torso. Never had I felt so exhausted and sapped of life. I felt miserable and of no use. I wasn’t sure if this was how abductions were like. What did this man want with me? I’d no clue.

I winced at the searing pain that burned from my right hip. I tried to turn the other way to relieve me of its blistering ache. However, each movement I made felt like an open wound rubbing against sand paper. I couldn’t help it so I yelped in agony. He heard me and started to pace back and forth frantically. He balled his fists on top of his head then let out a huge growl of anger.

‘Was he some sort of psycho, unstable man?’ I didn’t want to entertain the thought. I was uncertain of his intentions, nor of what his thoughts were. But what I saw clear was that he was troubled. Water pooled around my eyes. It drowned my vision. He noticed this, and as a response he knelt against the foot of the bed. He stroked my hair to try and calm me down, “…p-please…” I choked my pathetic plea as I brought my one hand close to his cheeks. I was depleting energy fast. I didn’t have much left in me. He pulled away slightly. His eyes regarded me with worry.

A part of me wanted to exploit his weakness. If it meant my freedom I would. With that intent I brought my hand closer to his face. I wanted to unmask him but I refused. He relaxed and pressed his cheek against my palm, mildly rubbing against it. Touching another person without fear of getting slapped or punched made me feel human again. His contact felt like panacea.

Without averting gaze, he searched his jeans’ pockets. It took him quite some time to pull whatever it was from behind him. He brought an object between us that was made of gold. He uncapped it and turned the base to reveal a beautiful shade of rose. He leaned closer. It made my heart speed. He smoothed the balm over my top lip and said, “This’ll help with the swelling.”

My mouth agape caught the tip of the balm. Our eyes locked for a couple seconds. I felt a spark. He resumed smoothing another shade on my lips. He retracted and I saw his mask move as he smiled. I nodded my thanks at the humane gesture I was given. I guess not all captors were bad.

The balm smelled of cherries. It reminded me of the fruit-bearing trees in Long Dong, China. I would sleep under those trees on a carefree day and not have a care in the world. I came from a family with parents who were not always around. I never really knew them. Growing up in a temple with monks wasn’t something I found ideal, yet I was replete with gratitude. I was always told I was the youngest of nine, but my memories only reminded me of six. It made me wonder.

I just turned fourteen with no clue as to how many years I had left given my dire situation. With sadness fueling my emotions, I wasn’t able to hold back the tears. Anguish was a waterfall that streamed down the side of my temples. I sobbed at the memory of how uncomplicated my life was before all this. Before this nightmare began and molested my soul with horrors unforeseen.

I heard a phone ring. It was his. He placed the cylindrical balm tightly in my right hand, and balled my fingers around it. He steeled his spine, stood up, and took the call, “yes … I know … I’ll leave him here,” he mumbled while he sporadically nodded his head in between responses.

He cut the call then turned to look at me. His eyes were a haze of emotions, miserable and brooding. He mouthed a firm yet affectionate goodbye. I felt abandoned. Where was he going? My trance was broken as the door opened. A woman walked in. He whispered something inaudible to her. The lady nodded then looked straight at me. My heart jumped to my throat.

I caught his words, “take care of him,” his message before departing. He gave me one last look. I held his gaze for as long as I could. He nodded then stepped out the door, and out of my life.

Heels clacked towards me. The lady crossed her arms over her chest and said, “I heard that you needed time to heal.” Even with the moonlight, it was hard to make out what she looked like. She moved like a snake as she slinked in the darkness. She ripped a syringe from a packet then pushed the applicator up. It made the formulation spit from the needle like a snake hissing venom. I fought her off with everything I had left. I threw my hands at her as much as I could for fear of what the needle could do to me. She stabbed my open hand with the syringe and the venom connected. I saw her image split in half as my vision declined to complete darkness.