Perspective: Puppet Master

Hey there, thank you for reading :) I've been writing Puppet Master for a few months now, and, although I love the story (or what it will be, eventually, because it will get interesting I promise ;) ) I've kind of been playing about with perspective a bit. I wanted to get into Tori's head and establish what I think she will be now, as she will obviously be growing throughout this story, she is only seventeen when we start, and I started to play about with the first chapter. But the thing is, I kinda love it, and don't know what to do anymore, so please leave me a comment and tell me what you think? It would be MUCH appreciated thank you :)

It probably all set off on the Richter Scale when I lost my parents; that’s when it became an unhealthy attraction for me anyway. Until then it was just a crush, but after? Well, afterwards I clung to him. Avidly.

See, the thing is, when you lose nearly everything, you become obsessed with the idea of keeping hold of the moment, of the things you have in that moment, of the people in your life. So, when they knocked at my door to tell me Mom and Dad had flipped the Saab over the central barrier, that they’d died almost instantly, I clung to a doorframe at first.

A doorframe.

And I crumpled to my knees, because I’m quite weak, or at least, I was then. That was, oh God, about thirteen years ago now. I was sixteen.

I was mollycoddled, my whole life, because I was the baby girl. Mum suffered ten years of X chromosomes before I came along; toy trucks, and muddy knees, and then I arrived.

Mum used to knit, all the time you could hear the metal clink clink against each other, she taught me once, but I’ve forgotten how. Anyway, two days after she found out I was a girl, she knitted this pink blanket, in the softest wool imaginable, and I remember the policemen wrapping it around my shoulders while I cried, obviously worried to leave me in the state I was in.

And I remember hating it because I’d never had a moment in my life before that, that I would cry, and there was nobody there to hold me. It was the worst feeling in the world, maybe that makes me selfish? I don’t know, I couldn’t really care less, people grieve how they grieve.

Kind of the same way that we love I guess. No love will ever be the same for two people; mine’s obsessive, and it completely overwhelms me. I get jealous, and possessive, and completely irrational, and I’m not prepared to apologise for a second of it.

Because I also give him everything I have; everything I am belongs to him.

Jayden arrived, like the proverbial knight in shining armour, wrapping his arms around the defenceless damsel. I dug my fingers so hard into his back he must have felt like a cliff edge while he pulled me to him. I felt like trying to claw him into my soul so that he could never leave me.

It’s quite pathetic when I look back at it, but I still don’t regret it.

I couldn’t, even if I tried.

I don’t know how long we stayed that way; I only know that the black shirt he wore for work was soaked through to his skin with my tears by the time I pulled away. It was the first time I ever felt him struggle to let me get away. I didn’t register that then, but, with hindsight, now that I know what I know, it was there.  

I was preoccupied then, though, completely lost in the realm of my own fantasies because his body was so close to mine, and my stomach felt tighter, my entire body heavy with the intensity of the lust that drove through my veins.

It’s all chemistry: blood pounding through your body, and the heat that tingles through you at their touch. Chills, and sparks and white lightning that floods you.

I’d loved him forever, but never with his chest pressed up against me, never with his lips just millimetres away.

I suddenly remembered it was because I was always afraid, always nervous, I could never be so close to him without the blushes, and I bit my lip, dropping my gaze to his chest, because his eyes would surely turn to frost in a second. He’d push me away, gently but firmly, and I’d be lost again.

“I um, I wet your shirt Jayden,” I whispered, I was so god damn nervous around him, even though I’d known him forever, and he’d looked out for me since I was six years old, standing beside my two brothers while they fought my battles for me. That was my life, I was a princess in an ivory tower, and one day, Jayden would save me from it, and look after me forever.

I was a child, he always says that when we look back at it, and he’s right; even though I wanted him so badly, it was a child’s love that I had for him then. A hero worship, and if he’d have taken it, it would have consumed me.

I was idly running my hands across the thick ropes of muscle across his chest and his stomach, it felt like stone underneath my fingers, but there was scorching heat coming from him in waves. I don’t think I knew the effect it would have on him, but he groaned, pulling my lips to his, and with a whisper soft touch, he was kissing me.

“Don’t bite that lip baby, you could bruise it.”

And he pulled it between his own teeth, gently sucking at it until I was moaning and squirming underneath him. Somehow, I’d ended up with my back against the cold leather seats of my Mum’s Chesterfield Sofa, and he was leaning across me, pinning me in place with his mouth over mine.

And God, it was bliss, and I knew exactly where I wanted to be until hell froze over and a meteor hit the planet: Beneath him.