The House in the Lake

Sneaking into His Room

Ok! I admit what I did was stupid. It felt nice. Really-really nice, but it was stupid. I mean... You can see what was going to happen next, can't you?

He would grab me and start kissing me, and then turn me around, laying me on the couch and, well... I would be unable to resist. He is stronger than me. Probably. He is a semi-God. Well, not exactly, but he must be strong. And even if I did try to argue, instead of helplessly fighting back, he would say I kissed him first. I mean... It's the natural outcome. What else should I have expected?

And he did nothing of the kind. He just smiled, so happily, and said a "Thank you" and that was that! Why? He said he likes me, didn't he? Then, why?

And this irritates me!

And the fact that it irritates me, irritates me even more!

Did I actually want him to do what I described? Or do I want him to come into my room at night, when I'm sleeping naked - he seriously hasn't given me any clothes! - and rape me? Well, not violently, of course, but...

I don't know. Honestly? I don't know! I'm afraid, a part of me wants this. He is hot! He is. And cute. And that makes him even hotter. But he nonchalantly demanded... asked for... the death of so many people. Didn't he? So, why would I ever want to have sex with him?

But I do. I don't want to admit it, not even to myself, but I do. Why else do I clean myself so thoroughly before going to bed? Or why else do I feel a little disappointed when I wake up in the morning after nothing has happened? Night, after night, after night I have been expecting him, and I just pretend I didn't. So, Ok! There! I admit it. To myself. Not to him!

And, by the way, that wasn't a figure of speech. Three nights have passed, and this is the fourth. And I'm in the bathtub, glancing at the door every now and then, and it's not out of fear he might come.

And you know what? Even during the day, when we are together, he doesn't do anything "suspicious". Yes he always wears just his trousers. And yes, he lies in my lap at almost every chance. And twice or thrice I lay in his. Well, he challenged me to do it, the first time! And it was nice - yeah - so I did it again. What? If I hadn't done it, he would have lain in mine. What's the difference?

But other than that, he doesn't do anything to show me what a magnificent person he is. He doesn't try to convince me not to kill him. He doesn't try to seduce me. And, of course, he doesn't try to take advantage of me. He just talks with me about every insignificant thing. He asks everything about me, but he doesn't force me to tell him anything. Just what I want to. And he takes care of me.

Nothing too much. Nothing like what he would do, if he wanted to impress me, or to seduce me. He just prepares my breakfast and meals, and simple things like these. And it's nice being here, with him. What can I say? It is!

And he is always awake when I wake up, and he doesn't go to sleep before me. Does he actually sleep? I don't know.

And as he had promised, he had provided everything I would need, or even want. Not clothes, none at all, but everything else. I don't even know if the room I'm staying in, and the bathroom attached to it, existed before I came here. In any case, they are very welcoming.

No keyholes, no locks, no door latches. I thought this was for him to come and go as he pleases. But, as I said, he doesn't do that. Once I close the door, he doesn't even ask to come in. He says, "Goodnight", though, when I turn off the lights. How does he has electricity in the middle of a lake? The same way, I guess, he has everything else.

So, I'm back in bed, and turning off the lights.

"Good night, Kane! Sleep well!"

"Good night!"

But tonight I'm not sleeping! Well, not immediately, I mean. I wait. I hear his room's door closing. I wait. An hour passes like this.

Then, reluctantly I get up. I don't put on my shoes. I don't want to make a sound. I probably could have worn my filthy clothes, but I don't do that either.

"I've just had a bath," I say to myself, but probably just to excuse my behaviour. And, as silently as I can, I open my door.

A five thousand years old wooden cabin would make many cracks and sounds, you would expect, but, thankfully, it doesn't.

I'm approaching his door. I hold my breath as I place my ear against it. I can't hear anything else, but my throbbing heart. Carefully, fearfully, I slowly open the door. And I enter the room.

There is a dim light all over the room. Not too dim. It's coming from him, of course, but I'm not surprised. I was expecting that much. He is lying on his bed.

Naked.

Uncovered.

On his side, slightly curled. So sweet! So innocent!

I close in on him. I can't help but admire his beautiful body. Uncontrollably, the tips of my fingers seek to touch him. My arm stretches, and they do so. They caress his soft skin. Slowly. From his elbow up to his shoulder. Then back to his elbow, and then on the side of his belly and lower. Oh, dear Gods!

I pull my hand back and press it against my chest, and turn around to look elsewhere. Anywhere but his...

"Just look around the room! Don't think of it! You came here to search his room and find out his dirty secrets!"

And so, I look around. There is nothing much to see. It's practically an empty room. There is the bed, and there is a night stand next to it. No shelves, no closet, not nothing. Just the bed and the night stand.

There is a small box on it. A small, plain, wooden box. It doesn't look at all important, but I know it is. Because, you see, it's the only thing he actually has. I guess, whatever else he needs, at any given time, he just conjures it up, right then and there, only to dispose it when he doesn't need it any longer.

I approach the box. If he has any dirty secret I can find, it must be inside this box. I know it! I pick it up. I look at it. I want to open it. I want to look inside it. I want to find out what he is hiding from me. In there!

But it feels so wrong!

I want to do it, but I can't do it. What if... what if it's not a dirty secret? What if it's not his diary of the massacre? What if... Who cares??

But still, what if?

I replace the box on the night stand. I realise I hadn't noticed how it was placed, before picking it up, so, probably, he will know I tried to look in it. He probably will think I actually did. That's bad, but also it's a good thing. When he won't believe me I haven't looked in it, I'll know for sure he is playing with me.

How can he put his life in the line for a... game?

I look back at him. He is still there, lying peacefully, smiling cutely. I forget I'm not there on his invitation, and I sit on his bed, and gently caress his beautiful face.

"Tell me you are not a murderer, Lugh. Just tell me that!"

I'm begging him to tell me he is innocent. I know! But, wait! Begging a divine being, even without speaking it out loud, is a prayer, isn't it? Oh, fuck! He must have heard that!

I look at his face. I try to see if he will smirk, or if he'll open his eyes and look back at me. He doesn't. Nothing seems to change, not even for a moment. Probably he doesn't hear the prayers when he is asleep. That's good.

I kiss my index and middle finger and gently press them against his lips. Then, I stand up and turn to leave. Oh, dear! I hadn't noticed that! I'm hard.