Post by chasseur on Oct 6, 2011 16:59:45 GMT -5
Ever since I accepted Jaden's offer, I've developed a whole new appreciation for showers.
Not that I fell victim to the stereotype that those of us whom grow up near the French fall victim to-- you know the one, with the hatred of bathing-- but before, it was just part of my evening routine, after using the toilet and before brushing my teeth. Now, though… it is the end of being in bondage, when I can shed the expensive dresses and shoes, the materialistic shackles that he forces me to wear and just simply be... me. It must sound pathetic, I'm sure, but it's the truth. Between the overly revealing way he makes me dress and the way that he forces me to act, I feel like I am nothing more than a puppet dancing at the end of that bâtard's strings. I didn’t want to strike Toby, or even so much as lay a finger upon the shoulder of the monster in human's clothing that holds my heritage hostage, but it's either that… or I lose the chance to ever find out the truth. So I swallow my pride-- and more than a little of Jaden's bullshit-- and I put on a smile so fake that it cuts into my soul and I dance when he wants me to dance. I know it won't last forever, for what little comfort that's worth, but the light at the end of the tunnel seems to be so very, very far away… but I can see it, and that is enough for me to carry on. And as soon as I have what I am after, the moment that he sets me free? I'm going to take those fucking strings and I am going to strangle the life out of him, embedding one of those painful stilettos he makes me wear in the middle of his forehead, right between those beady little eyes--
…wait, what am I thinking?!
Forcing those thoughts out of my mind, I let the hot water wash them-- and him-- off along with the sweat of the day, the make-up that still feels alien when I put it on in the morning and the hairspray that still makes me gag when I apply it. As the soap and shampoo do their job, I begin to feel more… human, more real, more myself. The warmth surrounds me, the steam cocooning me as I make the metamorphosis from someone's bitch to my own person… and by the time that I turn the water off and open the curtain, I feel as if I am reborn. Snagging the towel, I give my hair a quick rub before wrapping it around my frame, the terrycloth's slight itch something that I pay no need. Not at all caring if I leave wet footprints, I make my way over to the fogged-over mirror. For a moment, I consider doodling in it, drawing hearts and arrows and flowers as if I were a child again… but I shake my head, instead raising my hand to give it a single swipe--
And the eyes that meet mine in the mirror's reflection gleam from the deeps of the Abyss.
Non--
Jaden moves before I can recoil, his massive hand rising to catch me beneath my jaw. I can feel his thumbs digging into my skin as he uses that grip to force me back against his chest… and the feel of the buttons of his suit coat pressing against my back is more of a relief than I can ever give words to. Ignoring how I tense up at his nearness, he nuzzles his nose in the dark dampness of my hair, taking a deep inhale before he speaks.
Not that I fell victim to the stereotype that those of us whom grow up near the French fall victim to-- you know the one, with the hatred of bathing-- but before, it was just part of my evening routine, after using the toilet and before brushing my teeth. Now, though… it is the end of being in bondage, when I can shed the expensive dresses and shoes, the materialistic shackles that he forces me to wear and just simply be... me. It must sound pathetic, I'm sure, but it's the truth. Between the overly revealing way he makes me dress and the way that he forces me to act, I feel like I am nothing more than a puppet dancing at the end of that bâtard's strings. I didn’t want to strike Toby, or even so much as lay a finger upon the shoulder of the monster in human's clothing that holds my heritage hostage, but it's either that… or I lose the chance to ever find out the truth. So I swallow my pride-- and more than a little of Jaden's bullshit-- and I put on a smile so fake that it cuts into my soul and I dance when he wants me to dance. I know it won't last forever, for what little comfort that's worth, but the light at the end of the tunnel seems to be so very, very far away… but I can see it, and that is enough for me to carry on. And as soon as I have what I am after, the moment that he sets me free? I'm going to take those fucking strings and I am going to strangle the life out of him, embedding one of those painful stilettos he makes me wear in the middle of his forehead, right between those beady little eyes--
…wait, what am I thinking?!
Forcing those thoughts out of my mind, I let the hot water wash them-- and him-- off along with the sweat of the day, the make-up that still feels alien when I put it on in the morning and the hairspray that still makes me gag when I apply it. As the soap and shampoo do their job, I begin to feel more… human, more real, more myself. The warmth surrounds me, the steam cocooning me as I make the metamorphosis from someone's bitch to my own person… and by the time that I turn the water off and open the curtain, I feel as if I am reborn. Snagging the towel, I give my hair a quick rub before wrapping it around my frame, the terrycloth's slight itch something that I pay no need. Not at all caring if I leave wet footprints, I make my way over to the fogged-over mirror. For a moment, I consider doodling in it, drawing hearts and arrows and flowers as if I were a child again… but I shake my head, instead raising my hand to give it a single swipe--
And the eyes that meet mine in the mirror's reflection gleam from the deeps of the Abyss.
Non--
Jaden moves before I can recoil, his massive hand rising to catch me beneath my jaw. I can feel his thumbs digging into my skin as he uses that grip to force me back against his chest… and the feel of the buttons of his suit coat pressing against my back is more of a relief than I can ever give words to. Ignoring how I tense up at his nearness, he nuzzles his nose in the dark dampness of my hair, taking a deep inhale before he speaks.
I half-expected you to use Suave or some other off-brand shit… but your hair, ma petit chéri, it smells lovely. Whatever you're using, you have my permission to continue with it.
The French leaving his lips, combined with the condescension in his voice and gleaming in his eyes, causes me to tighten my jaw. Even though I know it won't end well, I can't help but verbally strike back.
Let go of me, you perverted son of a--
Ah-ah-ah… is that any way to treat the man that did what you could not in getting those adoption records unlocked?
He chuckles, his breath hot against my ear. Dimly, I feel his other hand sliding across the towel around my waist, cradling me closer-- and when I stiffen in disgust, his smirk grows wider.
That's what I thought… but I'm not here just to, ah… sample the goods.
It takes all of the self-control I have to not lash out with one of my feet, or with one of my elbows, or anything to get him off of me, then to ensure that he never eats without a tube ever again-- not only would that silence the lead he's offering me, but he's bastard enough to press charges and get me deported, something that would take decades to appeal. That doesn't stop me from glaring daggers into the mirror, though. He chuckles, his hand sliding up from my jaw to pat me on top of the head as if I'm some sort of… of dog instead of a thinking, breathing human being that wishes that looks could kill.
I've convinced Rivera to book you in a match against Toby's precious little girlfriend. You're going to go down that ramp, ma petit chéri, and you're going to end her. I want you to break every bone in her body, do you understand?
My eyes widen all over again. He wants me to do what?! Adamantly, I shake my head back and forth, a few wet strands of hair striking Jaden across the face with entirely too little force for my liking.
N-Non, I will not! She's just an announcer! I'm not going to hurt--
Except for how you will… because if you fail? You can forget about ever finding out who your birth parents are. If you succeed, however, then I will be a happy man. And trust me, Skyler...
Once again, the… the bâtard leans down, his lips right next to my ear. His tongue flicks out, and the feel of it against my skin makes my breath hitch despite myself.
You want me... to be a happy man.
His tongue makes another pass… and I cannot take it any longer. My left elbow connects soundly with his side, a grunt escaping him-- but more importantly? His grip loosens, and I'm not above scrambling down and away from him like a scared child. Putting as much distance between the two of us as I can, I grab the first thing I can-- my curling iron-- and I brandish it like a weapon, knowing full well that I'm going to need everything at my disposal to take him down should he charge. Instead, though? That laugh, that damnable laugh escapes his lips as he shakes his head a bit, his tone condescending.
Such a feisty, fiery girl… just the way I like them. Don't let me down, Skyler.
Licking his lips at me one final time, he exits the way he came. No sooner is he out of sight do I bolt over, closing the door and locking it-- and I even shove the little decorative table that is festooned with candles and potpourri in the way, for good measure. Only when I'm sure that everything is as secure as it's going to get do I let myself quake, my breath coming in starts and stops as I struggle to keep from just breaking down and crying. That won't do any good… and for a moment, I wonder if anything will, if it's worth all of this mistreatment and falseness to get the answer to the question that has haunted me since I was a child. A few deep breaths and I know how to ground myself, to bring back rationale and the confident woman where a scared little girl currently stands, her knees knocking together from fright. Even after the hot water has long since ran out, I scrub and I scrub… but I never quite feel clean. At this point? I doubt I will ever again.
I'm so sorry, Skye… but I have no choice.
I'm so sorry, Skye… but I have no choice.