Auctioned

Liam/ Allison

                 LIAM

Prick.  Worthless.
      That’s the word she loved to use.
      “Why are you up?” she asks, and my mother’s voice is flat and hoarse.  She’s at the small kitchen table wearing nothing but a ripped nightshirt and a hot pink bra underneath.
      Memories of what life used to be like flash before my eyes.  The laughter and pancakes.  Mom used to cook.  Back before everything changed.
      Now the fridge is always empty and the linoleum floor is always dirty from whatever she did last night with him.  I’ll clean it all up after school.  It’ll be okay.  I can fix this.
      Her eyes are so red as she rocks at the table.  I know she’s high.  I’m old enough to know.  I think my teacher knows.  Mrs. Klintsova keeps asking me questions.  But I don’t tell them anything.  I don’t want her to get in trouble.  She just needs help.  I can help my mom.  I love her.
      She must know that.
      “I never should’ve kept you.  I knew your father was going to leave me.”
      I stare at my mother, not understanding.  Dad died overseas.  “He died at war.”  The words come out before I can stop myself, and I wish they hadn't.  Mom lunges from the table, her ripped night shirt exposing the bright bra underneath.  She smacks me hard across the face, gripping my shoulders and yelling into my ear.

      “You’re just like him!”  She keeps shaking me, and I let her.  She just needs to get it out of her system.  I know she’s hurting.  I wish someone would help her.  Tears roll down my cheeks and that only makes my mom angrier, but I can’t help it.
I stare at the ceiling, not moving.  These memories come to me often, and they only remind me of the fucked up past that made me who I am.  But I’m fine with that.  I’ve grown to realize I can live with knowing who I really am.

      I’m not worthless to Allison .  I can do so much for her.  She’ll put her faith in me, she’ll give me control, and I’ll give her everything she needs.

      It’s important that she has priacy, a place that she feels at home.  I know this, but I hate it.  I want her tied to my bed so I can take her easily in the morning.
      I roll onto my back, the sheets and thick comforter pulling with me.  The dim light of the moon spilling through the slit in the curtains and casting shadows across my bedroom floor.

      She’s doing so well.  She’ll adjust soon.  She’s going to realize this isn’t what she anticipated.

      She thinks she knows what a Master is, what’s required of a Slave… she has no fucking idea.
    
      I can faintly hear the crickets from outside as a smile creeps up to my lips.

      Just as quickly as it comes, it vanishes.  A shrill cry from her room makes me leap from the bed.

      My heart races as my feet slam against the hardwood floors on my way to her.

      Her small frame is twisting under the sheets, fighting them as a strangled scream is torn from her throat.
      “Allison!” I yell, grabbing her hip to pin her in place and her wrists with my other hand.  I still both of her wrists above her head, holding her down with a good bit more strength than I thought I’d need.

      “Allison!, wake up!” I scream at her, so loud that I feel the wretched soreness in my throat.  I imagine hers is worse.  The screams haven’t stopped, and she’s only fighting harder.

      Tears are leaking down her face, although her eyes are closed tightly.
      She may think this is play, or a fantasy come to life.  But for me this is real.  I know she needs someone to heal her, and I so badly want to be her Master. I want to take those terrors away from her, to replace them with the pain and pleasure she needs.