Black Iris

His Puppet.

Iris

I dreamt about her.

In my dreams, Ophelia was soaked right through, her hair hanging in tendrils around her pale, bruised face. It was daytime, and she was standing in the sun, staring at me. I realised that she was standing in my parent's driveway, in front of the house I grew up in. As I realised this, she turned and walked inside. I followed.

When I walked through the door, I couldn't see her. Instead, Blake and my mother were there, talking. They were fighting about something. They were fighting about me.

"You're tearing her away from us! You can't keep doing this!"

I heard someone say my name behind me, so I turned to find Jackson sitting on the stairs, grinning.

"Come on, mommy!" Then he jumped up and started running up the stairs.

I ran after him, filled with joy. I followed him through the halls, running and running, chasing his little head of curls. Then, I suddenly realised that we weren't in my parents house anymore. We were in Blake's house, the one that burnt down, and all of a sudden I was no longer chasing Jackson. I was being chased.

Ophelia was beside me again, running with me, sobbing, pleading with me.

"Please, Gwen, you have to save me from him."

I tried to speak, tried to tell her it was going to be okay, but no words came out.

Then she started screaming, crying out, and I knew that Blake had gotten her. But I kept running. The screams followed me, taunting me. Then, I hit a dead end. I stopped short, and knew I had to turn.

And as I did, something in my head clicked and I realised that it wasn't Ophelia that was screaming and crying out.

I woke up slowly, groggy and begrudging, not wanting to pull myself out of sleep, whilst also knowing I had to.

Something was wrong, and I couldn't ignore it.

I heard sobbing, and a voice in the distance, begging, please please let me go.

Still heavy with sleep, I forced myself out of bed to go investigate.

The sounds were coming from the Blake's playroom, and when I reached the door, I didn't bother knocking. I pushed it open and froze for a second, taking in the sight.

Blake was standing over the Canadian girl, his face filled with rage. She was cowering as he lashed at her back with a leather flogger. Thalia's back already bright red, the skin broken in places where blood was sleeping through.

"What the fuck, Blake?" I screamed, rushing in and grabbing at his arm. He faltered at my voice, and matched my gaze as I tugged on his arm. I thought for a moment that I'd stirred him, pulled him from whatever hell state he was in.

Then he smirked at me.

"What, you want in on the fun?" He sneered. I could smell the liquor on his breath. "Wanna have a go at her too? Shove her head in the sink a few times?"

I recoiled, bile rising in my throat at the memory. But then Thalia let out a whimper and I pulled myself out of it.

"Stop it, Blake." I said. "Hurting her won't solve anything, and you know it."

He grinned. "Sure it won't. But it sure feels good, doesn't it, Iris."

He pulled his arm away from mine, and glanced down at Thalia, then back up, giving me a sickening smile.