Tabula Rasa

“Why? I thought...”


He took a long, deep breath as if he were one of those toys that had to be wound up before it could express itself. “Until very recently, the only person in the world I cared even a little bit about was myself. I can fake empathy pretty well under the right circumstances. Most people don’t notice because most of their empathy is just as fake. Everybody’s wrapped up in their own shit, so maybe we’re all just pretending, and it’s not just me.”

He stopped and seemed lost inside that thought for a moment. Finally, he managed to untangle himself from it to continue. “I don’t trust myself with you if I like hurting you... given the other things I like.”

As if he had to spell that out for me. He thought murdering people was fun. He thought hurting me was fun. He loved it when I cried and begged him, so exactly how little would it take for him to cross over to the thrill of killing me?

If I was a smart woman, if I had any brains inside my head at all, I would have done what he asked. You’d think without memory to take up much space in my brain that I’d have more room for deeper cognitive reasoning.

But instead, I went to the bed and picked up the rope, then I went back to Shannon and pressed it into his hand. This was insane. I was insane. My captivity with Trevor must have broken me. In a sense I’d been born in captivity. I didn’t remember a time I had ever been free. Now I needed the ropes and the cage to feel safe—even when I knew I was anything but.

Shannon’s hand closed over mine and the rope as he looked hard into my eyes. “If you cross this line with me, we aren’t going back.”

“Is it going to end in my grisly murder?”

“I hope not.”

I believed he meant it. But how could I know? He was so good at faking everything.

“I thought you weren’t a Halloween monster. I thought you were always in control.”

“I’m going on past performance. I might be wrong.”

And I might never get my memory back. I might always live in this gaping void, this endless eternal twilight, this space where lost souls wandered and moaned in hallways in the dead of night.

He seemed to consider the point we’d reached for a moment, as if he could rewind the night to before I’d walked in on the orgy, as if we could go back to the happy roommate illusion we’d been living in.

There was no time for me to change my mind, as if I could bring myself to. I was terrified of him and what he was capable of, and yet I needed him to fuck me more than I’d needed anything since I woke in the pirate ship.

He tossed me on the bed and began tying my hands to the headboard much like he’d done in the motel room that night. I still couldn’t believe I’d handed him the rope. But in only a few moments he’d created a gnawing hunger inside me that I knew only his cock could satiate. I needed him inside me like I needed air.

I was certain that no amount of touching myself in the darkened room down the hallway would ever calm the desire he’d ignited. I needed to be perched on the knife-edge of living and dying. I needed to be so swept up in the present moment that I had no time to worry about the giant pieces of nothing inside my head or the giant pieces of lies Trevor had put there.

This was the only space and place in which I could be free of all of it.

Shannon spent a good ten minutes securing me to the bed frame, spread out before him like a buffet he would no doubt take his time with. Briefly, a panic settled over me, some primal deep thing... maybe something attached to a memory. I didn’t know. Because whatever it was refused to crystallize into a fully formed vision or thought.

“Elodie,” he said calmly, his hand pressing gently over my belly, stilling my movement.

I looked up sharply, trying to shake off the weird feeling. “Yes, Sir?”

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then this is the way it happens. Or not at all. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He didn’t have to sell me on this. Really, he didn’t. If he wanted to sweetly make love to me in what I assumed was the standard normal way, I would have probably found it unappealing in general, judging from what had just happened and the way I’d reacted to it. Despite my wild attraction to Shannon, I had a sneaking suspicion that much of that attraction was this dark sexual layer that I may not have seen consciously, but somewhere, deep inside my mind, in the places untouched by the amnesia, I’d recognized... something.

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