Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Yume Oboro ❯ Chapter 9
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Celestial Reign 
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense / Angst | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.09.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 5.6K | Visits: 189 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense / Angst | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 07.09.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 5.6K | Visits: 189 | Status: Work In Progress
Chapter Nine
Mariku seemed happy. At least, that's what I thought anyway. I could never read his moods since they were so prone to extreme change, but by the way he would always wake up next to me smiling, the way he would hug and love on me, cook me breakfast and give it to me in bed, I had to assume something good happened. He almost seemed excited about something, but I honestly didn't care anymore.
Because this...was life now. I don't know why I torture myself the way I do sometimes, why I was always fighting a losing battle from the start, so when I finally sat back and accepted all of this...it almost felt relieving. However, acceptance didn't mean I had to love it, and that meant that no matter what Mariku did to me, said to me, anything, I still hated him and wished for nothing more than to leave this place and get back to my old life.
His touches...his whispers....everything about him haunted me and even when he left me alone in that little bedroom, the one that was decorated with all sorts of Egyptian knick knacks and such, he was still there. I could still hear him whispering in my ear, still feel him sliding his hand up my thigh and stroking the side of my face like I was his pet, and still see that 'loving' look in his eyes as he raped me over and over. I hated to say it like this, but...he's done it so much, so many times of touching me and defiling me that...it's almost natural now.
How long has it been? A month? Two months? Three? I didn't even know anymore. Time was foreign, normal things were foreign. Even talking seemed strange now, now that Mariku was my only source of contact. I'd barely seen Kisara the whole time I was here, and I was glad for that. She was probably just as dangerous as Mariku, and the less contact I had with her, the better.
Detection and lost were the only things I felt like I could feel now. I wasn't happy, I hated all of this, I hated Mariku, what he did to me, what he said, God, just everything about him, I hated so, so much. I could accept it all day long, pretend to be happy, force myself to be happy, but it did nothing.
Was it really worth it? Should I really just sit back and let this become my new life? I complained all the time for some friends, because I was so lonely in high school, so much that I resorted to talking to complete strangers online because I was desperate for some form of contact with another human, a friend. And in a sick and twisted way, Mariku was right. He'd given it to me, the whole time I thought he was Alice, he was my first friend, the best thing that'd ever happened to me since going to high school, and I loved him for it.
Why should seeing him in person make a difference? Why couldn't things just be the same? He was the same person, the same Alice.
It was crooked, dark and deep and tainted. Mariku was a liar. He lured me into a trap, like a predator, and like the stupid and naïve prey I was, I took the bait and got caught. He would feast on my flesh, tear open my body and rip out as many things as he could before spitting out my bones and tossing me away.
I was a fool. Had...had things been different, had Mariku not kidnapped me and just told me from the beginning who he was, things could have probably worked out. We could've probably even been friends, but...he was twisted, sick, and wrong, and everything he did now canceled out what he'd done in the past.
I hated him, and nothing he did would change that. He would kill me.
As usual, or what had become usual, I opened my eyes to see that same room, the same bed, the same Mariku behind me, his long arm draped over my chest, and it made me sick. I wished I could've puked on the bed or something, but there was absolutely nothing I could do. At least vomiting would make me feel like I was ridding my body of something, but it didn't and would only result in a sore stomach. I didn't move when I felt him shift and contemplated pretending to be asleep, but again, it would do no good. His lips were on my ear and his voice was pooling out that hot breath of his that made me shiver and tie a knot in my middle.
"Good morning, Malik."
I said nothing like I always did, but he didn't seem to mind, only nuzzled his head into the back of my neck, kissing a little here and there. His lips were always cold.
"What do you want to eat for breakfast?"
I looked over at a bookcase that was framed in gold and shook my head, still keeping to my silent treatment. I hated talking to him. It was...too normal and nothing here was normal. How could he act like he did, like nothing was wrong? How could he hug and kiss and squeeze me and tell me he loved me like absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary?
"How does cheese toast sound? Sorry, Kisara forgot to go to the store yesterday, so that's about all we have."
I don't even know why he bothered asking me things. I never talked back, but he seemed content with talking to someone who mimicked a brick wall, and only tugged onto my arm every so often when he wanted a verbal response. No arm tug, so I kept my mouth shut.
"Come out. You haven't been out of this room in a long time, so let's go to the kitchen."
Not normal, nothing was normal, this was all screwed up and twisted, but...it was hopeless. He was dangerous, he was still my captor, the one who played God in my life, the one who could choose to kill me if he wanted, the one who had choked me, drugged me, suffocated me in a tub of water, so I stood up with him, pulling on a pair of pants and a shirt that was lying on the floor, and I followed him into the kitchen.
I should have done this long ago. I should have just accepted this new life from the beginning. Stupid, stupid, I was so stupid to think that I could escape from him, escape from here, fight him. Accepting this long ago would have prevented a lot of hurt, a lot of shed tears, cries, yelling. I was so stupid.
Mariku's hand enclosed itself in mine as we entered the kitchen, almost as if he wanted to announce to everyone that I belonged to him because...I did. He was my keeper, my prison guard, my captor, and as the prisoner, I had no say-so in anything. I did whatever he told me, and he seemed happy with that, and as long as he was happy, I was somewhat tolerant of him. I didn't squeeze back, though, and he gripped tighter, as if sensing that, and I had to force myself to curl my fingers around his own, just to end his crushing grip. No say-so, just silent obedience. Like a pet.
Kisara was in the kitchen, standing over the stove, her long hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she didn't give us hardly any indication that we were there even when Mariku greeted her. I hadn't seen her in a very long time since I was mostly in the bedroom, or she was gone somewhere, but when she turned to look at us, something in me knew that her expression, the dimming in her blue eyes, was not natural. She almost looked sad, but I knew her as a cold-hearted person, someone harsh and hardheaded, so her low voice didn't match well with her at all. "Oh. Hi...Mariku." The steely blue eyes glued themselves to me and I focused my attention on the floor, my toes, Mariku's toes, anything else but her.
Mariku seemed so different this morning. He was smiling a lot, something that didn't happen often, and he almost seemed...bouncy as he trudged over to the pan Kisara had been scraping and flipping away at something in it, bringing me with him since our hands were still attached. I was dragged along like a puppet. "What're you making?"
Kisara didn't answer right away, just stirring and scraping, but even a moron could tell she was making eggs. I think Mariku only asked just to get her to talk. He was still smiling, still squeezing my hand. "...Eggs." Slow to answer, she didn't look up at him, her attention focused on the pan, but Mariku didn't appear to have noticed her rather dejected expression. He just smiled and hugged onto her a little, wrapping the arm opposite of me around her thin frame and pulling her close to him. He was so fucked up...
He brushed his lips against the shell of her ear and finally got a small insignificant squeak out of her. Small and tiny, but it was noise. "I'll take over. Why don't you and Malik go watch TV or something?" He looked back down at me. How could he look so happy? It infuriated me. "Malik, do you want to watch TV while I finish up breakfast?"
No answer, but he should've expected that, and he did.
"Go with Kisara, Malik." His fingers left my hand and I continued to focus on the floor as Kisara took hold of my wrist and led me into the living room where a small TV flickered and buzzed on a small stand. I hadn't been out of the bedroom a whole lot, but looking at the house now, I noted that it wasn't all that big. Maybe only a little bit wider than mine and Isis's apartment. There definitely wasn't a whole lot of extravagant furniture either. The couch looked old and torn in random places, the fireplace was cracked and faded, even the walls and ceiling were faded in color and in need of a new paint job. Despite all of this, the place wasn't dirty, just old-looking.
"Sit," Kisara growled, knocking me back into reality. Crap. I almost forgot who I was with. I feared Mariku more than I realized, but that didn't mean I wasn't also scared of this woman. She was as much my kidnapper as he was. She was the one who tricked me to begin with, even if it was his idea, she took part in it and led me into the trap while Mariku pulled the strings and pounced.
I obeyed, just as I had been doing these past...however long I've been here, and I sat down on the torn and scratched couch. I was given no indication of what day it was, and time was just a blur. Nothing really mattered anymore, and the thought made me depressed, that this was my life, that I would be some sick pervert's toy for the rest of my life if he didn't kill me soon.
I could...I could always kill myself. Yeah...I could walk into the kitchen right now, find a knife, a big one, and slit my throat. It'd be so easy. I would just have to avoid Mariku and Kisara, keep them from stopping me--
No! God, what was wrong with me?! I didn't-I wasn't really thinking like this, was I? No, no, no, Malik, you're going crazy. You don't want to kill yourself. You have...you have to live. For Isis. You have to get back to her, somehow...somehow.
I felt tears peek up and turned away as Kisara sat down next to me, frowning and glaring at the TV as she flipped through channels, muttering swears every now and then about how she hated basic cable. I wasn't going to cry in front of her! I could--I WOULD be strong for once, I--I choked a little, still facing away from her, and then the tears pooled out.
I couldn't do this. What did accepting my fate matter if I was just going to die anyway? What was the point to any of this? All that time of me just sitting back and obeying orders like a dog flew back and the tears that couldn't fall then fell now, and I poured it all out, quietly sobbing into my hands as I reached up to cover my face. I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. This...was just so screwed up. Mariku was in the kitchen, making breakfast like nothing was wrong, he'd told me to come in here and watch TV like a normal person, like nothing was wrong, and here I was, trying to act normal, trying to do normal things, but I was not normal.
I was Malik Ishtar, and I had been kidnapped and raped almost every night for I don't even know how long. My sister is probably killing herself over this, and I can't even tell her that I'm alive--for now. This was real life, and I was probably going to die before I got out of this. You saw people on the news all the time who went missing, suspected of being kidnapped, and those people were usually never found, and if they were, they were almost always brutally murdered in some shape or form. Rarely did they ever get rescued.
I knew. Mariku would kill me. He'd grow bored with me, get used to me, and I'd be just another face in the crowd, another useless and insignificant person that the world would not miss if they were to disappear. I would be that other face you saw on the news, the one whose body they recovered and found slaughtered like a pig. Or, maybe they wouldn't even find me. Mariku was so screwed up, he'd probably bury me himself or dump my body parts in a lake somewhere. I wouldn't put it past him to toss me in a coffin and bury me here where he could keep me forever.
I shook my head, still quietly crying into my hands, my tears pooling out and falling into my lap where they soaked through my pants. This was depressing. I couldn't think like this all the time. But, I had no life anymore, Mariku was my life, so it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. I was...I was nothing anymore.
"God, will you just shut the hell up? I'm sick of hearing some boy whine and cry like a little girl."
Kisara's snarling voice next to me made me jump a little and I bit my lip, trying to stop crying. Maybe Mariku would let Kisara kill me? She hated me anyway. I was confused about her relationship with Mariku. At first, I assumed they were just friends, partners in crime, if you will, but...the things Mariku said to her, the way he touched her and gave her strange looks, they definitely had something more than friendship going on. But...Kisara never really responded to it. Just like I did, she never returned his touches, his kisses, she just sat there like a doll while he played with her. Didn't she love him? If I was his toy, then was she his true lover? Had he grown used to her and decided to stalk young boys and try them out?
Still glaring at the TV, she finally settled on some animal channel that was currently showing a lion chewing the guts out of some helpless prey. She sucked in some air and then spoke again, shocking me when her snarl was gone and replaced by a tone that could be considered gentle. "Malik, just...stop crying, okay? I promise things will be okay, so stop crying."
This was...confusing. And it only made me want to cry more. Don't do that, because it's just a cruel lie. Don't sit there and tell me things will be okay when you know damn well they won't be. More tears flew out, but I managed to stop choking and speak somewhat normally. "D-don't do that. It won't be okay. He'll kill me."
And then she turned to look at me, and I her, and I actually jumped when I saw tears shining in her blue eyes. It looked as if they had once been vibrant and beautiful, but now they were tired, dark, and haunted. "Malik, he...he's not going to kill you. He's obsessed and thinks he loves you. He wouldn't hurt the person he loves."
Her words, her lies, sparked anger in me and I snapped back. "He...the fuck he will! He's already drugged, choked, drowned, and slapped me, so don't sit there and try to feed me that horse shit!" Anger always brought out the worst in me, and it didn't even register with me that I had just sworn at Kisara, at my kidnapper, and I quaked upon realizing this too late, backing down like the coward I was, but she didn't bite back.
Instead, huge tears fell and she covered her own face, letting them pool out and I think that disturbed and scared me more than having her bite and bare her teeth at me. I had always seen her in a bad mood, always snapping at something, punching something, yelling at somebody, so this was...this wasn't Kisara. She didn't cry. She was cold, hard as rock, and crying wasn't an ability she possessed. Yet, they fell, clear as day, big and wet, hitting her pants, soaking through, and her pale face turned red from letting it all out. "...I know, Malik. I'm sorry. I'm sorry all of this had to happen to you. Please forgive us. I can't...I can't leave him. I love him too much. He's my everything, but..." Her hands fell and the dimmed and tired blue of her eyes was framed with blood red now from crying. "He can't...he can't force his love on you like this, and you obviously don't love him." She paused, sniffling, and then, "You have to leave."
I was silent, not knowing what to think of all of this. What...I just didn't understand. I didn't understand Kisara, Mariku, any of it. Trap, trap, it had to be a trap. She was just tricking me, giving me false hope like this, that I could get away, but I was wiser now, I knew lies when they were given to me like this, too good to be true. "No...I can't leave. He...he won't let me." I wiped at my own eyes and it felt so strange, sitting there crying with someone, almost like they understood me, knew what I was going through. Did Kisara know? She said she loved Mariku, but...she didn't act like it. You can say you love someone all day long, but was pushing them away constantly, never looking them in the eye, never giving that person recognition, really love? "He isn't just going to let me run away."
Her pale hand reached over and grasped mine and for the first time ever, I saw Kisara smile a little. "Malik...I can't leave. I'm more trapped than you are, but...you can do it. Don't give up before you even try."
"I have tried. He...he isn't letting go."
Her fingers squeezed around my hand a little, almost in encouragement. "He's in the kitchen now. The door is right there. I'm giving you this opportunity, Malik, so take it." Another small smile. Then, "Run."
Was...was this really real? It had to be a dream, a sick lie. I knew...I'd run to that door, tear it open, and then Kisara would sell me out. She'd yell for Mariku and he would come and catch me and touch me and rape me and-- I shook my head, shivering a little, my eyes glued to the blue ones in front of me.
I was such a coward. I couldn't even save myself from a situation that was all my fault from the beginning. But, Kisara was right. I was given this opportunity, so would I waste it, distrust it and sit back and wait for Mariku to kill me, or would I try, just try, and maybe save myself?
I knew my choice. I wasn't ready to die. I wanted to go home so bad, go back to Isis, even if I had no friends, even if I had to remain alone for the rest of my days, it would be better than being here, stuck as someone's toy for the rest of my life. I was...I was a human being, I was Malik, and I was going to run.
I stood up, Kisara's fingers leaving me, and her lip quivered as tears continued to fly down her cheeks. I whirled around to run through the door, burst through it and break out into a sprint, run as far away as I could go, but...but...
Mariku was there, standing in the doorway of the living room, holding up a couple of plates of eggs, cheese toast, and other assorted breakfast items. That same. disturbing. smile was still plastered to his face, the one that showed he was happy and that nothing was wrong. But...it was wrong. This was wrong, everything was WRONG, and I was still going to run, him there or not. I bolted toward the door and wrenched it open, flying out, faintly hearing shouts and grunts behind me, a crash, the plates of food probably, Kisara sobbing and yelling, and then footsteps pounding on the ground. I ran, not looking back, leaping down the front steps and onto a graveled road, a short little one that ran into a main large one that forked in two different directions. I'd never seen it outside this much, so I had no knowledge of where I was, where this was, or if I was even in the same city or state I had lived in. Mariku never told me anything. We could've been in another country for all I knew, but I had to find people. I had to find someone, anyone.
I took the road that branched to the left, and ran, despairing when I noted just how long and curvy and isolated it was. I could run down that road all day, but how long would it take to reach civilization? How long would it take before I got out of breath and had to rest? No, no, Mariku was chasing me, I know he was, I didn't look back, but I just knew, and I wouldn't let him catch me! I'd run and keep running after he gave out of breath, after he ran too much to keep up with me, because I HAD TO GET HOME! I HAD TO GET BACK TO ISIS, ISIS, sister, I love you!
Running, running, don't concentrate on losing your breath, just RUN, MALIK! You're literally running for your life, so you'll die if Mariku catches you! Run for Isis, run for your sister, run for yourself. You don't want to stay here, you don't want this, so just run, and even when you give out of breath, when your muscles ache and your feet bleed and you feel like you want to die, keep running.
My thoughts fueled me, and I ran faster. I had to be faster than Mariku, I had to be more durable, and the trees and road zoomed by me as I ran, the end of that curvy dirt road not looking any closer than when I first started. It seemed hopeless. There wasn't even any possibility that a city would be around here. I could be miles away, and it might take hours to get to the city, but...I had to do it. I didn't want to die here. I didn't want to be Mariku's stupid pet for the rest of my life.
Run, fly away from his touches, run, Malik, just run, faster, faster, FASTER AND FASTER AND--
The back of my shirt was tugged as was my arm snatched up, and I screamed bloody murder as Mariku was able to quite literally snatch me up and slam me into his body. He didn't waste anytime wrapping his arms around me and keeping me attached to him. I screamed at him, beating him, kicking, flailing, thrashing around at him, screaming for him to let me go, dammit, I WAS GOING TO DIE! "MALIK!" His voice was so loud in my ear, but I kept fighting. I was so. damn. close and he ruined it! I...I just...why? Why? "YOU ARE NOT GETTING AWAY, MALIK, AND DAMMIT I'M SICK OF YOU RUNNING AWAY!" He squeezed me, pulling his arms tighter and tighter and I could feel my lungs quake under such pressure and I gasped, my screaming becoming weaker and my thrashing slowing down.
Fuck...fuck...why was it that he always won? Was this is, then? Running and running, and he still caught me. He was still able to hold me back and keep me with him. I just...I was going to die. That was it. Mariku won. He'd won from the beginning, and he'd just keep winning, so what was the point? I stopped resisting, but that hold he had on me just kept getting tighter, and I was faintly aware that he was dragging me backwards, back toward the house. I'd barely even gotten away from it, so he didn't have to carry me far. I cried, I just sobbed in his hold as he pulled me back up the driveway, swearing and squeezing me tighter when my foot would stumble and he would have to catch me to keep me from falling.
There was no life for me. Running did no good. Fighting only resulted in pain. I couldn't get away from him because he was always there. It was just...hopeless. There was no hope for me. I couldn't do it, I couldn't do this anymore. Just kill me, don't torture me anymore, give me these false hopes only to crush them down into dust. Please, I want to die. I want to die.
The front door was slammed open, banging into the wall behind it, and Mariku released me, flinging me onto the floor. Kisara was gone, but I hardly noticed anything. I was scared, I was still frightened of him, and he was angry, infuriated by my attempted escape, and I could only sit and wonder what he would do to me as he slammed the door back so hard, a painting fell from the wall a little ways over. He whirled back onto me, at my writhing form that sat on the floor, and he bent down, punching me so hard, I was thrown to the side.
I was screaming again, trying to push him away, but God, he was right there! He was on top of me, hitting me, slapping me, punching my face with as much force as he had, and he would scream and yell when my face kept lurching to the side. He would pull it back, slapping it again, switching hands to slap with the other and it just hurt.
I was crying again, my tears falling down and stinging my already aching cheeks, and Mariku was above me, screaming so loud and so much that his words didn't even make sense. It was just loud noise. He leaned off of me, yanking me up by my arm, and I cried out when it felt like he'd pulled it out of the socket. Ignoring my outcry, he pulled me into the kitchen, whirling around to slap me once more when I yelped from his grip on my arm. "STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT, MALIK!" Again, he was shouting, but it was understandable, and the look on his face scared me. He was still mad, still fuming, and the lavender in his eyes was sharp, evil, devilish. He was going to kill me... "MALIK, STOP STARING AT ME LIKE THAT! I DON'T LIKE IT!" His screams had become so cold, almost high-pitched and to a hysteric point, and then his hand flew up, nabbing my shirt collar and yanking me up to his face where he shook me, shouting at me over and over to stop looking at him, that I was faking it, that I really did love him and that me running away was just a cruel joke.
The glint of a knife, he had a knife, he had a knife, he was holding it up to my face, and I screamed and pleaded and cried when it flew, and I only caught the glint, the sharp edge of it, before he drove it into my face.
Pain...stinging, churning, unadulterated pain was all that I felt. I could only stand there and scream, scream, and scream, and cry and yell and scream when blood flew down my face. Warm and rich and thick blood, pooling from the place where it hurt so much. My eye. He'd stabbed my eye. It hurt, it hurt, my remaining eye was slammed shut, hot tears pooling out, and I was shaking, screaming, screaming at him, and he was in my face again, holding up the knife with blood on it, with part of my eye attached to it.
"DO YOU LOVE ME, MALIK? BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, AND YOU AREN'T LEAVING! TELL ME YOU LOVE ME!" He held it closer, and I was so weak, and my eye hurt, and the blood, so much blood, pooling from that one spot, and all I could was cry.
"I...I-I l-l-love y-you!" Pain made my voice shake and quiver, and blood sunk into my mouth when I opened it. Pain, pain, hurt, stinging, aching, ripping, tearing pain. Blood, so much blood. My eye, gone. I couldn't see.
He leaned in closer. "Say it again, Malik! I don't believe you!"
"I-I l-love you!"
A slap to my face, my blood coating his hand now, and the knife fell, clattering to the floor, forgotten for the moment. "I don't believe you!"
"M-M-Mariku, I love you!"
And I was shoved to the floor on my stomach and he picked the bloody knife back up, ripping it up through my shirt, tearing it to bits before he removed it. He tore a long strip from it and fastened it around my mouth, tying it behind my head where my screams of pain were muffled and choked on. He removed my pants, almost ripping them, too, and when I was naked, he too was naked and he shoved me down onto the kitchen floor on my stomach, grabbing my hips and pulling them up where he was raping me again, all over again, and I screamed into the gag, screamed for my eye, for him, for myself.
"I don't believe you, Malik! You ran away! You don't love me, you never loved me, SO I'LL JUST HAVE TO LOVE FOR BOTH OF US!"
Blood dripped in front of me and I slammed my eyes shut, the pain in my lower regions mediocre compared to the hurt in my eye. I was rocked into, back and forth, back and forth, in and out, in and out, and he wasn't stopping. He was laughing behind me, gripping my hips to keep himself inside of me, so that I couldn't rock too far forward.
"I love you, Malik, FUCK, I LOVE YOU!"
Tears and blood and semen were all mixed. There was no pleasure, nothing from what he did, and he did it for a long time. It was so long, being rocked into over and over, screaming into my shirt he'd tied into my mouth, and the pain behind me dulled, the pain in my eye dulled, blood still dripping, coating the floor, and I was spent.
And he finally stopped, climaxing all into me, staying inside me for awhile while orgasmic haze held him, and then he pulled out, breathing hard, backing away from me to lean against the stove, and I slumped forward, tired, so tired, wanting sleep. I closed my remaining eye, tears still making their way out.
"Malik...I...I love you...I...love you..."
I passed out.
Mariku seemed happy. At least, that's what I thought anyway. I could never read his moods since they were so prone to extreme change, but by the way he would always wake up next to me smiling, the way he would hug and love on me, cook me breakfast and give it to me in bed, I had to assume something good happened. He almost seemed excited about something, but I honestly didn't care anymore.
Because this...was life now. I don't know why I torture myself the way I do sometimes, why I was always fighting a losing battle from the start, so when I finally sat back and accepted all of this...it almost felt relieving. However, acceptance didn't mean I had to love it, and that meant that no matter what Mariku did to me, said to me, anything, I still hated him and wished for nothing more than to leave this place and get back to my old life.
His touches...his whispers....everything about him haunted me and even when he left me alone in that little bedroom, the one that was decorated with all sorts of Egyptian knick knacks and such, he was still there. I could still hear him whispering in my ear, still feel him sliding his hand up my thigh and stroking the side of my face like I was his pet, and still see that 'loving' look in his eyes as he raped me over and over. I hated to say it like this, but...he's done it so much, so many times of touching me and defiling me that...it's almost natural now.
How long has it been? A month? Two months? Three? I didn't even know anymore. Time was foreign, normal things were foreign. Even talking seemed strange now, now that Mariku was my only source of contact. I'd barely seen Kisara the whole time I was here, and I was glad for that. She was probably just as dangerous as Mariku, and the less contact I had with her, the better.
Detection and lost were the only things I felt like I could feel now. I wasn't happy, I hated all of this, I hated Mariku, what he did to me, what he said, God, just everything about him, I hated so, so much. I could accept it all day long, pretend to be happy, force myself to be happy, but it did nothing.
Was it really worth it? Should I really just sit back and let this become my new life? I complained all the time for some friends, because I was so lonely in high school, so much that I resorted to talking to complete strangers online because I was desperate for some form of contact with another human, a friend. And in a sick and twisted way, Mariku was right. He'd given it to me, the whole time I thought he was Alice, he was my first friend, the best thing that'd ever happened to me since going to high school, and I loved him for it.
Why should seeing him in person make a difference? Why couldn't things just be the same? He was the same person, the same Alice.
It was crooked, dark and deep and tainted. Mariku was a liar. He lured me into a trap, like a predator, and like the stupid and naïve prey I was, I took the bait and got caught. He would feast on my flesh, tear open my body and rip out as many things as he could before spitting out my bones and tossing me away.
I was a fool. Had...had things been different, had Mariku not kidnapped me and just told me from the beginning who he was, things could have probably worked out. We could've probably even been friends, but...he was twisted, sick, and wrong, and everything he did now canceled out what he'd done in the past.
I hated him, and nothing he did would change that. He would kill me.
As usual, or what had become usual, I opened my eyes to see that same room, the same bed, the same Mariku behind me, his long arm draped over my chest, and it made me sick. I wished I could've puked on the bed or something, but there was absolutely nothing I could do. At least vomiting would make me feel like I was ridding my body of something, but it didn't and would only result in a sore stomach. I didn't move when I felt him shift and contemplated pretending to be asleep, but again, it would do no good. His lips were on my ear and his voice was pooling out that hot breath of his that made me shiver and tie a knot in my middle.
"Good morning, Malik."
I said nothing like I always did, but he didn't seem to mind, only nuzzled his head into the back of my neck, kissing a little here and there. His lips were always cold.
"What do you want to eat for breakfast?"
I looked over at a bookcase that was framed in gold and shook my head, still keeping to my silent treatment. I hated talking to him. It was...too normal and nothing here was normal. How could he act like he did, like nothing was wrong? How could he hug and kiss and squeeze me and tell me he loved me like absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary?
"How does cheese toast sound? Sorry, Kisara forgot to go to the store yesterday, so that's about all we have."
I don't even know why he bothered asking me things. I never talked back, but he seemed content with talking to someone who mimicked a brick wall, and only tugged onto my arm every so often when he wanted a verbal response. No arm tug, so I kept my mouth shut.
"Come out. You haven't been out of this room in a long time, so let's go to the kitchen."
Not normal, nothing was normal, this was all screwed up and twisted, but...it was hopeless. He was dangerous, he was still my captor, the one who played God in my life, the one who could choose to kill me if he wanted, the one who had choked me, drugged me, suffocated me in a tub of water, so I stood up with him, pulling on a pair of pants and a shirt that was lying on the floor, and I followed him into the kitchen.
I should have done this long ago. I should have just accepted this new life from the beginning. Stupid, stupid, I was so stupid to think that I could escape from him, escape from here, fight him. Accepting this long ago would have prevented a lot of hurt, a lot of shed tears, cries, yelling. I was so stupid.
Mariku's hand enclosed itself in mine as we entered the kitchen, almost as if he wanted to announce to everyone that I belonged to him because...I did. He was my keeper, my prison guard, my captor, and as the prisoner, I had no say-so in anything. I did whatever he told me, and he seemed happy with that, and as long as he was happy, I was somewhat tolerant of him. I didn't squeeze back, though, and he gripped tighter, as if sensing that, and I had to force myself to curl my fingers around his own, just to end his crushing grip. No say-so, just silent obedience. Like a pet.
Kisara was in the kitchen, standing over the stove, her long hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she didn't give us hardly any indication that we were there even when Mariku greeted her. I hadn't seen her in a very long time since I was mostly in the bedroom, or she was gone somewhere, but when she turned to look at us, something in me knew that her expression, the dimming in her blue eyes, was not natural. She almost looked sad, but I knew her as a cold-hearted person, someone harsh and hardheaded, so her low voice didn't match well with her at all. "Oh. Hi...Mariku." The steely blue eyes glued themselves to me and I focused my attention on the floor, my toes, Mariku's toes, anything else but her.
Mariku seemed so different this morning. He was smiling a lot, something that didn't happen often, and he almost seemed...bouncy as he trudged over to the pan Kisara had been scraping and flipping away at something in it, bringing me with him since our hands were still attached. I was dragged along like a puppet. "What're you making?"
Kisara didn't answer right away, just stirring and scraping, but even a moron could tell she was making eggs. I think Mariku only asked just to get her to talk. He was still smiling, still squeezing my hand. "...Eggs." Slow to answer, she didn't look up at him, her attention focused on the pan, but Mariku didn't appear to have noticed her rather dejected expression. He just smiled and hugged onto her a little, wrapping the arm opposite of me around her thin frame and pulling her close to him. He was so fucked up...
He brushed his lips against the shell of her ear and finally got a small insignificant squeak out of her. Small and tiny, but it was noise. "I'll take over. Why don't you and Malik go watch TV or something?" He looked back down at me. How could he look so happy? It infuriated me. "Malik, do you want to watch TV while I finish up breakfast?"
No answer, but he should've expected that, and he did.
"Go with Kisara, Malik." His fingers left my hand and I continued to focus on the floor as Kisara took hold of my wrist and led me into the living room where a small TV flickered and buzzed on a small stand. I hadn't been out of the bedroom a whole lot, but looking at the house now, I noted that it wasn't all that big. Maybe only a little bit wider than mine and Isis's apartment. There definitely wasn't a whole lot of extravagant furniture either. The couch looked old and torn in random places, the fireplace was cracked and faded, even the walls and ceiling were faded in color and in need of a new paint job. Despite all of this, the place wasn't dirty, just old-looking.
"Sit," Kisara growled, knocking me back into reality. Crap. I almost forgot who I was with. I feared Mariku more than I realized, but that didn't mean I wasn't also scared of this woman. She was as much my kidnapper as he was. She was the one who tricked me to begin with, even if it was his idea, she took part in it and led me into the trap while Mariku pulled the strings and pounced.
I obeyed, just as I had been doing these past...however long I've been here, and I sat down on the torn and scratched couch. I was given no indication of what day it was, and time was just a blur. Nothing really mattered anymore, and the thought made me depressed, that this was my life, that I would be some sick pervert's toy for the rest of my life if he didn't kill me soon.
I could...I could always kill myself. Yeah...I could walk into the kitchen right now, find a knife, a big one, and slit my throat. It'd be so easy. I would just have to avoid Mariku and Kisara, keep them from stopping me--
No! God, what was wrong with me?! I didn't-I wasn't really thinking like this, was I? No, no, no, Malik, you're going crazy. You don't want to kill yourself. You have...you have to live. For Isis. You have to get back to her, somehow...somehow.
I felt tears peek up and turned away as Kisara sat down next to me, frowning and glaring at the TV as she flipped through channels, muttering swears every now and then about how she hated basic cable. I wasn't going to cry in front of her! I could--I WOULD be strong for once, I--I choked a little, still facing away from her, and then the tears pooled out.
I couldn't do this. What did accepting my fate matter if I was just going to die anyway? What was the point to any of this? All that time of me just sitting back and obeying orders like a dog flew back and the tears that couldn't fall then fell now, and I poured it all out, quietly sobbing into my hands as I reached up to cover my face. I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. This...was just so screwed up. Mariku was in the kitchen, making breakfast like nothing was wrong, he'd told me to come in here and watch TV like a normal person, like nothing was wrong, and here I was, trying to act normal, trying to do normal things, but I was not normal.
I was Malik Ishtar, and I had been kidnapped and raped almost every night for I don't even know how long. My sister is probably killing herself over this, and I can't even tell her that I'm alive--for now. This was real life, and I was probably going to die before I got out of this. You saw people on the news all the time who went missing, suspected of being kidnapped, and those people were usually never found, and if they were, they were almost always brutally murdered in some shape or form. Rarely did they ever get rescued.
I knew. Mariku would kill me. He'd grow bored with me, get used to me, and I'd be just another face in the crowd, another useless and insignificant person that the world would not miss if they were to disappear. I would be that other face you saw on the news, the one whose body they recovered and found slaughtered like a pig. Or, maybe they wouldn't even find me. Mariku was so screwed up, he'd probably bury me himself or dump my body parts in a lake somewhere. I wouldn't put it past him to toss me in a coffin and bury me here where he could keep me forever.
I shook my head, still quietly crying into my hands, my tears pooling out and falling into my lap where they soaked through my pants. This was depressing. I couldn't think like this all the time. But, I had no life anymore, Mariku was my life, so it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. I was...I was nothing anymore.
"God, will you just shut the hell up? I'm sick of hearing some boy whine and cry like a little girl."
Kisara's snarling voice next to me made me jump a little and I bit my lip, trying to stop crying. Maybe Mariku would let Kisara kill me? She hated me anyway. I was confused about her relationship with Mariku. At first, I assumed they were just friends, partners in crime, if you will, but...the things Mariku said to her, the way he touched her and gave her strange looks, they definitely had something more than friendship going on. But...Kisara never really responded to it. Just like I did, she never returned his touches, his kisses, she just sat there like a doll while he played with her. Didn't she love him? If I was his toy, then was she his true lover? Had he grown used to her and decided to stalk young boys and try them out?
Still glaring at the TV, she finally settled on some animal channel that was currently showing a lion chewing the guts out of some helpless prey. She sucked in some air and then spoke again, shocking me when her snarl was gone and replaced by a tone that could be considered gentle. "Malik, just...stop crying, okay? I promise things will be okay, so stop crying."
This was...confusing. And it only made me want to cry more. Don't do that, because it's just a cruel lie. Don't sit there and tell me things will be okay when you know damn well they won't be. More tears flew out, but I managed to stop choking and speak somewhat normally. "D-don't do that. It won't be okay. He'll kill me."
And then she turned to look at me, and I her, and I actually jumped when I saw tears shining in her blue eyes. It looked as if they had once been vibrant and beautiful, but now they were tired, dark, and haunted. "Malik, he...he's not going to kill you. He's obsessed and thinks he loves you. He wouldn't hurt the person he loves."
Her words, her lies, sparked anger in me and I snapped back. "He...the fuck he will! He's already drugged, choked, drowned, and slapped me, so don't sit there and try to feed me that horse shit!" Anger always brought out the worst in me, and it didn't even register with me that I had just sworn at Kisara, at my kidnapper, and I quaked upon realizing this too late, backing down like the coward I was, but she didn't bite back.
Instead, huge tears fell and she covered her own face, letting them pool out and I think that disturbed and scared me more than having her bite and bare her teeth at me. I had always seen her in a bad mood, always snapping at something, punching something, yelling at somebody, so this was...this wasn't Kisara. She didn't cry. She was cold, hard as rock, and crying wasn't an ability she possessed. Yet, they fell, clear as day, big and wet, hitting her pants, soaking through, and her pale face turned red from letting it all out. "...I know, Malik. I'm sorry. I'm sorry all of this had to happen to you. Please forgive us. I can't...I can't leave him. I love him too much. He's my everything, but..." Her hands fell and the dimmed and tired blue of her eyes was framed with blood red now from crying. "He can't...he can't force his love on you like this, and you obviously don't love him." She paused, sniffling, and then, "You have to leave."
I was silent, not knowing what to think of all of this. What...I just didn't understand. I didn't understand Kisara, Mariku, any of it. Trap, trap, it had to be a trap. She was just tricking me, giving me false hope like this, that I could get away, but I was wiser now, I knew lies when they were given to me like this, too good to be true. "No...I can't leave. He...he won't let me." I wiped at my own eyes and it felt so strange, sitting there crying with someone, almost like they understood me, knew what I was going through. Did Kisara know? She said she loved Mariku, but...she didn't act like it. You can say you love someone all day long, but was pushing them away constantly, never looking them in the eye, never giving that person recognition, really love? "He isn't just going to let me run away."
Her pale hand reached over and grasped mine and for the first time ever, I saw Kisara smile a little. "Malik...I can't leave. I'm more trapped than you are, but...you can do it. Don't give up before you even try."
"I have tried. He...he isn't letting go."
Her fingers squeezed around my hand a little, almost in encouragement. "He's in the kitchen now. The door is right there. I'm giving you this opportunity, Malik, so take it." Another small smile. Then, "Run."
Was...was this really real? It had to be a dream, a sick lie. I knew...I'd run to that door, tear it open, and then Kisara would sell me out. She'd yell for Mariku and he would come and catch me and touch me and rape me and-- I shook my head, shivering a little, my eyes glued to the blue ones in front of me.
I was such a coward. I couldn't even save myself from a situation that was all my fault from the beginning. But, Kisara was right. I was given this opportunity, so would I waste it, distrust it and sit back and wait for Mariku to kill me, or would I try, just try, and maybe save myself?
I knew my choice. I wasn't ready to die. I wanted to go home so bad, go back to Isis, even if I had no friends, even if I had to remain alone for the rest of my days, it would be better than being here, stuck as someone's toy for the rest of my life. I was...I was a human being, I was Malik, and I was going to run.
I stood up, Kisara's fingers leaving me, and her lip quivered as tears continued to fly down her cheeks. I whirled around to run through the door, burst through it and break out into a sprint, run as far away as I could go, but...but...
Mariku was there, standing in the doorway of the living room, holding up a couple of plates of eggs, cheese toast, and other assorted breakfast items. That same. disturbing. smile was still plastered to his face, the one that showed he was happy and that nothing was wrong. But...it was wrong. This was wrong, everything was WRONG, and I was still going to run, him there or not. I bolted toward the door and wrenched it open, flying out, faintly hearing shouts and grunts behind me, a crash, the plates of food probably, Kisara sobbing and yelling, and then footsteps pounding on the ground. I ran, not looking back, leaping down the front steps and onto a graveled road, a short little one that ran into a main large one that forked in two different directions. I'd never seen it outside this much, so I had no knowledge of where I was, where this was, or if I was even in the same city or state I had lived in. Mariku never told me anything. We could've been in another country for all I knew, but I had to find people. I had to find someone, anyone.
I took the road that branched to the left, and ran, despairing when I noted just how long and curvy and isolated it was. I could run down that road all day, but how long would it take to reach civilization? How long would it take before I got out of breath and had to rest? No, no, Mariku was chasing me, I know he was, I didn't look back, but I just knew, and I wouldn't let him catch me! I'd run and keep running after he gave out of breath, after he ran too much to keep up with me, because I HAD TO GET HOME! I HAD TO GET BACK TO ISIS, ISIS, sister, I love you!
Running, running, don't concentrate on losing your breath, just RUN, MALIK! You're literally running for your life, so you'll die if Mariku catches you! Run for Isis, run for your sister, run for yourself. You don't want to stay here, you don't want this, so just run, and even when you give out of breath, when your muscles ache and your feet bleed and you feel like you want to die, keep running.
My thoughts fueled me, and I ran faster. I had to be faster than Mariku, I had to be more durable, and the trees and road zoomed by me as I ran, the end of that curvy dirt road not looking any closer than when I first started. It seemed hopeless. There wasn't even any possibility that a city would be around here. I could be miles away, and it might take hours to get to the city, but...I had to do it. I didn't want to die here. I didn't want to be Mariku's stupid pet for the rest of my life.
Run, fly away from his touches, run, Malik, just run, faster, faster, FASTER AND FASTER AND--
The back of my shirt was tugged as was my arm snatched up, and I screamed bloody murder as Mariku was able to quite literally snatch me up and slam me into his body. He didn't waste anytime wrapping his arms around me and keeping me attached to him. I screamed at him, beating him, kicking, flailing, thrashing around at him, screaming for him to let me go, dammit, I WAS GOING TO DIE! "MALIK!" His voice was so loud in my ear, but I kept fighting. I was so. damn. close and he ruined it! I...I just...why? Why? "YOU ARE NOT GETTING AWAY, MALIK, AND DAMMIT I'M SICK OF YOU RUNNING AWAY!" He squeezed me, pulling his arms tighter and tighter and I could feel my lungs quake under such pressure and I gasped, my screaming becoming weaker and my thrashing slowing down.
Fuck...fuck...why was it that he always won? Was this is, then? Running and running, and he still caught me. He was still able to hold me back and keep me with him. I just...I was going to die. That was it. Mariku won. He'd won from the beginning, and he'd just keep winning, so what was the point? I stopped resisting, but that hold he had on me just kept getting tighter, and I was faintly aware that he was dragging me backwards, back toward the house. I'd barely even gotten away from it, so he didn't have to carry me far. I cried, I just sobbed in his hold as he pulled me back up the driveway, swearing and squeezing me tighter when my foot would stumble and he would have to catch me to keep me from falling.
There was no life for me. Running did no good. Fighting only resulted in pain. I couldn't get away from him because he was always there. It was just...hopeless. There was no hope for me. I couldn't do it, I couldn't do this anymore. Just kill me, don't torture me anymore, give me these false hopes only to crush them down into dust. Please, I want to die. I want to die.
The front door was slammed open, banging into the wall behind it, and Mariku released me, flinging me onto the floor. Kisara was gone, but I hardly noticed anything. I was scared, I was still frightened of him, and he was angry, infuriated by my attempted escape, and I could only sit and wonder what he would do to me as he slammed the door back so hard, a painting fell from the wall a little ways over. He whirled back onto me, at my writhing form that sat on the floor, and he bent down, punching me so hard, I was thrown to the side.
I was screaming again, trying to push him away, but God, he was right there! He was on top of me, hitting me, slapping me, punching my face with as much force as he had, and he would scream and yell when my face kept lurching to the side. He would pull it back, slapping it again, switching hands to slap with the other and it just hurt.
I was crying again, my tears falling down and stinging my already aching cheeks, and Mariku was above me, screaming so loud and so much that his words didn't even make sense. It was just loud noise. He leaned off of me, yanking me up by my arm, and I cried out when it felt like he'd pulled it out of the socket. Ignoring my outcry, he pulled me into the kitchen, whirling around to slap me once more when I yelped from his grip on my arm. "STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT, MALIK!" Again, he was shouting, but it was understandable, and the look on his face scared me. He was still mad, still fuming, and the lavender in his eyes was sharp, evil, devilish. He was going to kill me... "MALIK, STOP STARING AT ME LIKE THAT! I DON'T LIKE IT!" His screams had become so cold, almost high-pitched and to a hysteric point, and then his hand flew up, nabbing my shirt collar and yanking me up to his face where he shook me, shouting at me over and over to stop looking at him, that I was faking it, that I really did love him and that me running away was just a cruel joke.
The glint of a knife, he had a knife, he had a knife, he was holding it up to my face, and I screamed and pleaded and cried when it flew, and I only caught the glint, the sharp edge of it, before he drove it into my face.
Pain...stinging, churning, unadulterated pain was all that I felt. I could only stand there and scream, scream, and scream, and cry and yell and scream when blood flew down my face. Warm and rich and thick blood, pooling from the place where it hurt so much. My eye. He'd stabbed my eye. It hurt, it hurt, my remaining eye was slammed shut, hot tears pooling out, and I was shaking, screaming, screaming at him, and he was in my face again, holding up the knife with blood on it, with part of my eye attached to it.
"DO YOU LOVE ME, MALIK? BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, AND YOU AREN'T LEAVING! TELL ME YOU LOVE ME!" He held it closer, and I was so weak, and my eye hurt, and the blood, so much blood, pooling from that one spot, and all I could was cry.
"I...I-I l-l-love y-you!" Pain made my voice shake and quiver, and blood sunk into my mouth when I opened it. Pain, pain, hurt, stinging, aching, ripping, tearing pain. Blood, so much blood. My eye, gone. I couldn't see.
He leaned in closer. "Say it again, Malik! I don't believe you!"
"I-I l-love you!"
A slap to my face, my blood coating his hand now, and the knife fell, clattering to the floor, forgotten for the moment. "I don't believe you!"
"M-M-Mariku, I love you!"
And I was shoved to the floor on my stomach and he picked the bloody knife back up, ripping it up through my shirt, tearing it to bits before he removed it. He tore a long strip from it and fastened it around my mouth, tying it behind my head where my screams of pain were muffled and choked on. He removed my pants, almost ripping them, too, and when I was naked, he too was naked and he shoved me down onto the kitchen floor on my stomach, grabbing my hips and pulling them up where he was raping me again, all over again, and I screamed into the gag, screamed for my eye, for him, for myself.
"I don't believe you, Malik! You ran away! You don't love me, you never loved me, SO I'LL JUST HAVE TO LOVE FOR BOTH OF US!"
Blood dripped in front of me and I slammed my eyes shut, the pain in my lower regions mediocre compared to the hurt in my eye. I was rocked into, back and forth, back and forth, in and out, in and out, and he wasn't stopping. He was laughing behind me, gripping my hips to keep himself inside of me, so that I couldn't rock too far forward.
"I love you, Malik, FUCK, I LOVE YOU!"
Tears and blood and semen were all mixed. There was no pleasure, nothing from what he did, and he did it for a long time. It was so long, being rocked into over and over, screaming into my shirt he'd tied into my mouth, and the pain behind me dulled, the pain in my eye dulled, blood still dripping, coating the floor, and I was spent.
And he finally stopped, climaxing all into me, staying inside me for awhile while orgasmic haze held him, and then he pulled out, breathing hard, backing away from me to lean against the stove, and I slumped forward, tired, so tired, wanting sleep. I closed my remaining eye, tears still making their way out.
"Malik...I...I love you...I...love you..."
I passed out.