Page 17 of Sin of Love
9
CAPTIVITY - DAY 12
There’sno sleeping or waking here. No dreams. No rest or respite. There is only the Dark Empty and the Bright Empty. I don’t prefer one over the other—they are the two sides of a corroded coin.
Now is Bright Empty.
Eyes blink.
Fingers curl.
Legs ache.
Metal clinks.
“You’re awake. Good.”
I’m always awake.
The speaker is a woman I used to know as Maggie. My employee. My friend. Sometime a while ago—I can’t remember when—I learned why. How…
I can’t remember.
“Are you ready to behave?” she asks.
I think about nodding and what it would mean. I know—or think I do—what would happen. Showers and massages and delicious food. Clothes, a haircut. All the fine things. Just like the first time.
I remember that, at least.
I shake my head.
Maggie—Margaret—scoffs. “Fine by me. You’re going to die in here, you know.”
I want to smile.
A door slams—metallic THUNK.
Dark Empty.
* * *
DAY 15
Scissors. Snip. Snip. Silk between my teeth. Rough knot behind my head. My tongue trapped.
FLASH.
Hair ripping. Silk gone.
Dark Empty.
* * *
DAY 17
In the Dark Empty, a man kneels at the head of the cot I’m shackled to. He’s brushing my hair and humming a nursery song. I’m not afraid, because I recognize his touch. Gentle and safe. It helps me ignore his scent, which belongs to the Devil.
“Marco?” I ask. Or try to. My voice is insubstantial, little more than a textured exhale. How long has it been since I spoke?
