The Pretty Poison

PART 26 - Chapter 16

PART 26 – Chapter 16

Rachael is nowhere to be found. After that day in the Rings, she disappeared with nothing but the whisper of her existence itching at the back of my mind. Four days of torture and fear that she might kill me in my sleep. I’m sure as hell not looking forward to her return but I need her back. If she’s going to be gone for good, I will make sure of it myself.

Westley pulls on his shirt and checks the alarm clock. Last night I slept here at his trailer with anger on my mind. I asked him if anything was going to happen but he told me he was too tired and that he just wanted someone to sleep beside him. Too tired my ass. His day with Lucy was so ‘unbelievably boring’. I only nodded last night because what he said was true. It was unbelievable.

This morning I wake up to find him rolling out of bed. Usually I wake him so I know something’s up. He quickly gets dressed and in a craving to misbehave, I pluck one of his cigarettes from the nightstand. The performance yesterday needs to be cleaned up and costumes are to be repaired but other things weigh heavier on my mind. I take the little green lighter and the spark takes my attention for a while. The flame is so beautiful, so delicate, and so deadly.

“Get out,” Westley orders suddenly. I glance at him ready to light up and for the first time in a long while, I stay put. I disobey him because I want to and it feels good. Taking a drag makes me cough a bit but I’ve done this before. The smoke releases from my mouth in a long and heavy sigh while my shoulders relax. My thumb lets go of the lighter and I toss it on the little table. I refuse to be his good little servant anymore.

His stare seeps into mine and I can feel the tension growing. It burns like the Poi I use; as innocent as it may seem, this kind of danger has consequences. My eyebrows rise as if tempting him to accept my challenge but inside I’m churning in fear. He storms over and takes my cigarette between his two fingers, smiling and nodding at my audacity.

“Cute,” he says in a falsely impressed tone. He stands there for a moment while I wait in the slow inevitability. The beat of my heart pounds in my chest as I struggle to keep my nerve. But when his hand flinches forward to slap me, I cringe and wait for the sting. I don’t want another black and blue.

Nothing happens.

Humiliation burns my skin when I see the look of pure arrogance dances across his features. He can call anyone’s bluff and he saw right through mine. A chuckle is muffled by the cigarette welcomingly set in his grin. After a drag of his own, he leans in and places his lips on my cheek. It would feel pleasurable if I wasn’t so repulsed by him right now.

“Still my little bitch,” he whispers proudly. The smoke in his breath hisses through my hair and on my ear as he exhales. My cheeks feel his all too common grip making me whimper as I’m forced to face him. “But if you fucking touch my smokes again, you’ll be unable to perform for a month. Get it?”

I nod with tight lips, barely holding onto the notion of obedience. This isn’t being afraid, it’s self-preservation. I grudgingly whisper, “Got it.”

“And this is where I say… good.” With my release, a rougher grip on my arm pulls me out of the chair and shoves me toward the door. I stumble forward with the lack of balance but quickly straighten up. If I’m done here then I want to leave with a dignity, even if it is forced.

My bare feet stride out of his room and climb down the steps to the front door. Before actually leaving the trailer, I glance down at my half-naked state of dress. Glitter from last night’s show covers the entirety of my arms, my legs, and my stomach. I’d take a bet Westley’s sheets are as sparkled up as I am. Spread the herpes, Masque would have said. Every time she helped with costumes it was always brought up. Glitter is the herpes of the creative world.