My Killer

Lingering taste

His lips on mine weren't what woke me, no Michael's lips were occupied elsewhere, they were nibbling ever so gently at my throat. It was his hand, the one he had slipped between my legs that jolted me awake.

My eyes flew up only to stare at the white ceiling above. I was lying flat on my back with the monster slung halfway over my form as he made himself at home between the moist folds of my lower lips. The tip of his right index finger found the sensitive bundle of nerves a mere second before my hand closed half-way around his wrist, desperately trying to pull his hand away. The whole room swam before me, echoes of yesterday's laughter ringing in my ears, and I could feel it in the back of my throat.

"I... I think I'm g...going to be s...s..sick..."

My breaths came out in short shallow gasps, I could feel the bile, an ever-present threat on the verge of forcing its way up my throat, it made my panicked words into a broken mess as they left my chapped lips.

Michael didn't even hesitate, nor did he question the statement, if it was just me trying to get out of his forced fondling or if I was truly about to be sick. No, he just scooped me up in his arms and carried me into the bathroom. My whole body shook from the grizzly combination of being freezing cold along with the bout of nausea that threatened to spill forth.

Michael deposited my mass on the floor next to the toilet, but not before pulling the plush grey carpet, using just his foot, over to the toilet. My knees rested on the soft fabric as I leaned over the bowl, and not a second too soon. Yesterday's late-night snack accompanied by some very expensive wine hit the porcelain with a splash.

Michael held my hair up through it all, his flesh warming my trembling form up from behind. Shivers wrecked my body as I emptied my bowels. Tears trailed down my cheeks only to drip down into the bowl below, salt mingling in with the sick, with the dreadful remains of yesterday. Images haunted my mind. Images that made my stomach twist even harder. I could hear the distant echo of our joined laughter. I had actually laughed with him, with Michael. I had enjoyed his company. I had played his fucking game, I had...

Ugh...

My stomach cramped even harder, it hurt so fucking much. I couldn't quite explain it but for some reason what had happened between us yesterday felt way worse than spreading my fucking legs for him, for Michael. I had laid myself bare before him in a whole other way, I had been me with him, my actual fucking self. For one late night, Michael had seized to be the monster, he had merely been a man to me. I had laughed with that man, I had smiled with him, I had conversed with him, I had simply chosen to forget just what he truly was, a monster. For one night he had been just a man and I had been a woman that found his company to be utter enchanting. Sure, I could always blame my sudden forgetfulness on the blasted wine. But deep down I knew differently. I had seen a side of Michael last night, a side that I wished to the gods that I could simply unsee. Michael had made me drunk last night and it wasn't just the wine that made me feel that way. No, I had been drunk on him, on the man himself, on Michael.

Monster... he's a fucking monster...

He... he... he kills people...

This here, this is nothing but a fucking game to him Soph...

Don't be so fucking daft... you know what he can do... what he will do again...

He... he's a monster...

I continued to breathe in a desperately shallow manner despite my stomach having settled somewhat. My mind was plagued by the sordid remains of yesterday. It was truly killing me.

Michael let go of my hair before slowly standing up, leaving the nest of strands to fall down around my head like a curtain. Shivers wreaked through my body as his cocooning warmth left me behind on the bathroom floor.