My Kind of Love

Lesson Seven:Openness - Orrick

Rules to Remember

1. First impressions are everything.

2. Respect is given to the one holding the whip.

3. Fear the pretty monster before the ugly one.

***************

I ran down the steps careful, not to trip myself as I rushed to see what my father wanted. My body was reluctant to leave my Siamese. I take one last glance behind me as my foot hits the last step. A quick release of air escapes from my lips. "Count to three," I say aloud, "then, go see what he needs now." The small talk to me doesn't work. I'll never stop being that little boy afraid of his father. I hate thinking those words. I'm not afraid. Fear isn't something I feel. It's something I make my cats feel when they disobey me. I chuckle. The weight of fear removes itself from my shoulders and press on.

My feet begin to follow the familiar path to his office. I smooth down the front of my shirt, stalling for time before knocking on the door. Thoughts fill my head as I start to raise my hand. I've done so many things I've shouldn't have. Hell, most of them could probably land me in jail. Sweat begins to bead on my forehead as thoughts begin to form. I can't help but think of the girl from last week. I can still feel her soft skin beneath my hands. The silkiness of her short black hair caresses my body. I can see the way her blood pooled in the bend of her arm.

  It dripped from the small cuts the whip made each time it bit into her. I try to shake the image away, but it just becomes more vivid. Her squeaky breathy screams had filled the room. I was so afraid the maid would come, or someone would call the police. I couldn't stop myself. I had to continue. Even when she begged me to stop I didn't. By the time, it was over she was exhausted from crying. Fresh and dried blood clung to every part of her small body. I was so proud of myself; satisfied even. I wanted to keep. Lock her away and bring her out only when I needed to. I undid her chains and washed the blood away. I petted while I bathed each part. Her brown eyes opened and widened in horror.

"Yo..yo...you're crazy," she stuttered out when she focused on me. "When I get out of here I'm telling."

I knew she would feel that way when I started to clean the wounds. I went too far this time. Normally I built up to this type of intensity. Someone who wasn't use to being whipped would never be able to handle that much pain.

"I want out, or I'm calling the police," her hoarse voiced screamed. I could hear the pain in her voice. I didn't know what to do.

I had dreaded hearing those words. I had gotten carried away and I paid for my carelessness. In the end, I just helped her get dressed and showed her out. Telling her as she went to make sure next time she didn't go home with strange guys. No matter how cute they are.

I hoped that wasn't what this was about. A gruff laugh interrupted my thoughts. My father never laughs at least not in front of me, he hasn't. One last thought of the girl upstairs before I knock. I will need to be careful with my new kitten unlike I was with the last girl. If I wanted to keep her, I would have to be careful not to break her.

My hand raises and comes down on the door. The laughter stops abruptly.

"Come in," my father calls. The door opens slowly and I walk in.

"You must be Orrick," a voice calls. My head turns towards it. Sitting opposite my father is another man. He runs his fingers through his balding hair as he smiles over at me. "I've heard so much about you," he finishes. 

My eyes travel over to where my father sits. "You called me, “I ask. His cold eyes turn back to the man before he speaks. 

He points to the man, "This is Evan." I reach out to shake his hand. His grasp is firm; his smile never leaves his face. I realize right away that this man is nothing like my father. "Evan works for me, but I have to admit he is also a dear friend of mine. 

 I have to stop myself from laughing. That man had no friends. Isn't that what he's always telling me? 'Friends were for the weak,' he would say or 'the only reason you call someone a friend is to get them to do what you want'. To keep him from seeing my smirk, I look at my shoes. I see now; everything that comes out of his mouth is a lie. 

"Orrick," my father continues. "I've told you countless time that you are wasteful. Spending that kind of money on a feather! A feather! What were you think?"

I give a sigh of relief. I didn't even know I was holding that breath. I hesitate before I start, swallowing the lump in my throat. I would not let him belittle me in front of his "friend" like this. "It wasn't just a feather," I tell him.

"It wasn't just a feather," he mocks. "Do you hear this Evan? It wasn't just a feather." He laughs at his own joke, shaking his head in disbelief. "I've decided with Evan's help here that you were going to learn a lesson in the value of a dollar. From today on you'll be staying with Evan and his family."

"What," I blurt out. "Dad..."

"Don't Dad me Orrick. You've brought this on yourself. I'm constantly telling you not to waste your money on those "toys" of yours. So it's time you learned a lesson. You'll be given an allowance of 300 dollars every two weeks to live on for the rest of the year."

"That's unfair. 300 hundred dollars isn't enough to live on. Father, how am I su..."

"Enough," his voice bellows out. "You have done nothing to make me think that you are capable of following in my footsteps. I'm the one who should be complaining. I am the one stuck with a son like you. It's time you learnt to be a man, and with Evan's help hopefully you will be. Now enough of your noise, go pack and be ready to go."

I was being dismissed. I hated my father for the way he acted in front of others. I close the door behind me and make my way to the stairs. I sigh, slowly walking up the steps to my room. My hand on the knob of my door, I compose myself before going in. The last thing I want is for Siamese to see me this way. With my head high and my back straight, I open the door and walk into the room. 

Her body is relaxed in its bonds. She smiles when I walk towards her. "We can't play anymore, sorry," I tell her.

"Oh," she pouts. "I wanted to continue." I can't help but smile at her while I remove the straps around her wrists.

"They'll always be a next time." 

"I hope so." She finishes removing the remaining straps. "When will the next time be?"

"Soon. Now get dress, I have to start packing. I'll give you money for a cab," I tell her, going in my pocket. "Just go straight when you get down the steps, and you'll see the door. Just tell the doorman to get you a cab." I kiss her on the cheek, turning my back on her. I can hear her starting to shuffle around before the door opens and closes. I sit on my bed, my head in my hands. My mind can't wrap around what my father wants to. I get up, kicking the bed in frustration.

***************************************

Evan's car pulls into a driveway. I look up at the house as I get out of the passenger seat. I still don't want to believe I'm stuck living with this dull man and his possibly uninteresting family. The entire ride over all he did was talk about his allergies and how he hopes I'll get along with his daughter. I shake my head. I hope she doesn't look like him. I could use something to relieve my mounting stress. The thought makes me smile. A live-in kitten. That would be immensely entertaining. I look up when I realize the man is talking to me.

"...Just shut the trunk once you're done and come on inside." He turns and walks up the stairs stopping to say hello to someone before going inside. Probably the daughter, I think, grabbing my suitcase. I pull one out and place it beside me. I reach in to grab the next one when I feel someone looking at me. I turn around and see Evan's daughter. She leans over the railing of the porch; her hands running up and down something green and black. 

 I stop what I'm doing. A smile is starting to form on my lips. "I'm Orrick," I tell her. She smiles and waves. She's shy, I think. Good. I smile back and walk up the steps. She turns to me, her fingers still dancing along the black object. My eyes follow the movement of her hands, the smile fading as I realize what she's holding. I laugh. A whip. I've never seen one like it. She glances down at her hands before looking back up.

"I'm Remi," she says. "Welcome home," She smirks and walks back over to a hammock at the end of the porch. A hand reaches out when she's close enough and pulls her down inside it. 

 I walk back down the steps to the car to get my bags. As much as I hate to admit it, I think living here could be fun, especially with her.