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Diabolic

She stirred from a deep sleep, on edge, instantly alert in the heart of the darkest part of night. She felt a chill despite the heavy heat clinging to her naked body. She was covered in sweat and dirty secrets.
Spreading her limbs out wide, she patted down blood red linen in search of her pj's.
"When did I take it off?" she frowned, puzzled, not remembering.
Running her hands over familiar places, she trailed fingers slowly down trying to remember why she'd shed her flimsy slip.
Her dream niggled at her, it was a piece of a very blurry puzzle.  She struggled to remember what, who, where...

As if in a trance, she trailed her index finger from behind her left ear, along her jawline, to parted lips, plump and moist.
She found collar bone: defined and hard; and her sweet spot in the centre, hers now to dabble with.
"This is my beginning...and it will be my end" he'd say, loving her and hating her in the same breath. A voice from the past with a choke hold on her present.
The voice belonged to the devil that controlled her crazy switch with subtle nuances, with chosen words, with deliberate absence...
In doing nothing, in being, in not being.
The devil that wore CK.
And signed his name with a flourish on papers that spelled undesired, undone, unwed; but from whom she could never escape.

Fingers found curves and etched over ribs; protruding and pronounced. It underlined peaks of pain and pleasure.
"Going in circles...round and round, always back..." he'd say wanting her, and wanting to devastate her.
Kneading and pinching.
Kisses like butterflies and caresses like cotton candy.
The hands that belonged to diablo that made her forget herself without trying, without thought, without agenda and  left her without hope.
Diablo that wowed crowds.
But left her lonesome in Alcatraz with a mind that never knew silence.

Susan felt the satin of her slip as her left foot reached the edge of the bed. She could make out the white, shiny fabric by the light of the moon forcing it's way through heavy summer curtains designed to keep the light at bay.
She drew it up, and slipped it on. It clung to her. She switched on the antique bedside lamp and  tiptoed to the bathroom; afraid of what she'd awaken.
Her captor had ears like a bat, and she seldom slept.
"Where are you going, dear," asked the crone, eyes like a hawk, "can't sleep?"
"No, I'm fine, Mother, it's the heat!"
"Good! Wouldn't want you wandering off, now, would we?"
Stopped in her tracks, Susan turned back to her room.
She heard the crone muttering, addressing her son, her tone harsh, her voice raspy, "I'll take care of her, don't you worry, my boy," she said, over and over again, laughing her absurd dry laugh till she coughed.

She could feel him here the most, in their darkened bedroom with the high, hard bed and rough carpet. Could feel him steering her in the never ending dark
Her hands on his ass, softly cupping, then tapping lightly, till it went smack at his insistence and she could feel him shake.
"Harder...love me harder!" he'd beg, her strokes coming harder, faster.
Her heart belonged to him, as did her demons.
Lucifer that left.
And left his mother to guard her.

"You are mine!" he screamed at her, months after the divorce was final. She had felt safe for a while, had remained in the house she'd gotten in the divorce settlement. Then the shift, a piece of furniture out of place, her drawers disturbed, photo's moved and the feeling that someone was watching...
He came, in the dead of night,  and he didn't come alone.
"Punish her!" she egged him on.
"Pull of her nighty! Do it!"
He was dragging her out of her sleep, dragging her by her feet, off the bed, onto the floor. He sat on top of her, squeezing the breath out of her. Leaning forward, he whispered in her left ear: "I can't think without you."
Lying naked on the floor, she looked up to find his mother staring at them, a look of triumph etched on her face.
And in that moment Susan lost her mind.
She grabbed the lamp and crashed it over his skull. He cried out in pain as blood trickled from his ears.
"Call an ambulance!" she shrieked, "we have to save him."
"You just did, dear," said his mother in the softest tone, "I'll take care of you, don't you worry, my girl, I will never leave you."
She said it over and over again, laughing her absurd dry laugh till she coughed.
And when she had finished burying her son in the basement, she took Susan by the hand, steering her into the darkness.

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