Owned by Him (rewrite)

36. Being Taught of Pain

We all mess up. Once in a while, we mess up real bad.

Into the rich tapestry of black, came woven puffs of grey; the cloudy night. A visible mass of vapors had floated high above the ground, curling and twisting upon the chilly atmosphere. It was the type of coldness that reached into my bones, as if my heart were a door left wide open to the icy wind, slamming only to open again.

"I'm watching. Why haven't you started yet?"

When Marvel asked me, I was still sitting on his bed, unmoving yet anxious. Trimming down the agonizing silence, he resumed our connection.

"Oh, is that it?" He gave out the notion I didn't get at all. "Unfortunately, I'm not so fond of such peculiar objects, but I might have something whose shape is quite similar."

He walked toward another side of his bedroom and pulled the top drawer, taking something out of there.

"I bought this in an auction last year, but I haven't tried it since. You can use it and at the same time do me a favor by checking if it's working," he said, throwing that thing to the bed so I could see it from near. "After all, it's an ancient item."

There lying an antique revolver in front of me he had just thrown, featuring a gold trigger, cylinder, and loading lever, it was also heavily engraved. The ivory stocks, now colored with age, had a wonderful carving on the panels. I stared at it for a while but was unable to comprehend the relation behind it and what he wanted me to do.

"Be careful. Who knows if it's loaded," he warned me about the danger I still didn't know where. "If you make any false movement, not only it could destroy that bastard's sperms inside you, it could also shatter your guts."

Something in Marvel's words served me the taste of pain I hadn't yet experienced but understood already. It was the sort of pain that burned, an invisible flare above my skin. But, Marvel was cold. Too cold he gave me only ice that froze my mind. It took over a portion of my sanity. To deal with its corruption vicious enough, without the ability of new thoughts, I was staggering, staring at him with dread.

He... didn't tell me to do "that"... with this thing, right?

"I'll be patient with you, so you can start any time you want since I'm going to enjoy every bit of it," he exhaled deeply as he continued, preventing himself from seething after seeing me going through denial. "Just remember that patience is the last thing I can do properly."

He took a seat on the couch that was facing the bed where I was sitting, looking straight at me. The wavy smoke drifting in the air was from his newly lit-up cigar, spreading the fragrance of an intricate blend of high-quality tobaccos. He took in enough to fill his mouth and then blew it out delicately, repeating until his cigar started producing thick white fumes.

My cowardice thought Marvel would be the one doing it, even though while being angry, I believed I would be able to handle his rough method, but...

I'm restless and anxious when I'm about to do something big, and so those emotions have become markers for me to find my bravery, to go forwards, to tell myself that I'm worthy of success and that by doing so, I can bring goodness to my family.

I was naive to think that everything would be as easy as I wished it to be.

Knowing that this time Marvel might not tolerate my mistake, I still stupidly hoped for his consideration.

Hearth-like aromas of cedar, fresh ground coffee, cinnamon, and leather emanated from a sweet zest punctuated a luxurious finish. In the duration of the smoke session, Marvel carefully removed the label of his cigar. He left it for a while so that the heat of the cigar would loosen the adhesive, and it would be less likely to damage the cigar's wrap when he took it off.